Competition

by Jackie

pixie7@gte.net

Stanley, Ray, Fraser, and Dief watched in earnest as Lynda's Academy class came into the gym to do their bi-weekly defense class. The three had managed to get some free time, and finally were able to come down and see Lynda practice. It was down to over a month left before Lynda would officially graduate, and things were getting tense.

The class instructor, Officer Timothy Howard, walked onto a set of blue mats while the class sat around them. Howard was dressed in the Academy sweats, while the students were wearing the sweats and sparring gear. Lynda had her hair done up in a ponytail.

"Okay, class, it's time to begin with the one-on-one sparring," Howard explained. "Who would like to go today?" He looked around the room. Not one person raised his or her hand.

"Come on, Lynda," Stanley whispered. He was dressed in a white T-shirt, tan sports jacket, dark jeans, and his biker boots. "You could kick anyone's butt in this class."

"Lynda, how about you?" Howard nodded at the young woman. Lynda got to her feet and walked into the middle of the set of mats. Her sparring gloves and boots were already on. "And we'll team you up with . . . Christopher. Come on, Xavier."

Lynda groaned softly as Christopher Xavier stood up and took his place facing Lynda, but only Fraser noticed. He was dressed in his brown uniform and holding his Stetson in his hands. "Hmm."

"What 'hmm'?" Ray asked. He was dressed in a brown Armani suit. His long overcoat was slung over his shoulders.

"Nothing."

"No, Fraser, that 'hmm' was something," Stanley retorted. "Now spill it."

"All I was thinking about was that Lynda doesn't seem to like Christopher very much."

Howard held up his hands, motioning for silence. "Okay, fighters, bow to me." Lynda and Christopher bowed to Howard. "Bow to each other." The two bowed to each other. "Ready positions." Lynda and Christopher stood in their defense postures. "Fight."

Christopher wasted no time, and charged Lynda, who easily dodged his incoming punch. She delivered a sidekick, but Christopher knocked it away. For almost three minutes, both fighters delivered their own series of punches, kicks, and other moves. Neither one seemed to be above the other.

Then suddenly, Christopher faked a sidekick. While Lynda dodged it, Christopher delivered a roundhouse, connecting the side of his foot with Lynda's face. She went down hard on the mats.

Howard stopped the fight, then knelt beside Lynda as she sat up. "You okay?"

Lynda held onto her nose, as blood trickled slowly through her fingers. "Yeah, I'm fine." She glared up at Christopher, who glowered back at her.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up?" Howard suggested.

"Sir, not to sound rude or anything," Lynda said, "but if this was a real situation, I wouldn't have the option of telling my attacker to wait while I get cleaned up." She stood up and wiped the blood from her face. "I'd like to continue."

"Point taken, Kowalski," Howard agreed as he stood up. "You may continue." The fight resumed.

Lynda redoubled her efforts into getting one hit on Christopher that would win the match. She tried roundhouses, spinning back kicks, jabs, and any other move she had been taught. Nothing. Suddenly, she thought of Fraser and a secret move that he guaranteed would work on any attacker. She stopped fighting and just stared at a point behind Christopher. "Great Scott! Turtles!"

Christopher turned to look . . . and received a single punch in his left eye. He fell backwards on the mat, then clutched his eye in pain.

"Point!" Howard shouted. "Lynda wins."

Lynda smiled sweetly as she put her hands on her knees. "A piece of advice for you, Chris. Never let something distract you in a fight. It's not a good thing."

Chris glared hard at the woman standing over him. Anger bubbled inside him, and he just went after her. He jumped on her, pinning her wrists to the ground with his hands. He punched her in the face. Lynda managed to knee him in the groin before Howard, along with Ray and Fraser, pulled Chris off of her.

"What the hell is your problem?" Lynda asked as she stood up. The only thing holding her back from charging Chris was her father, who gently had her by her arms.

"You're my problem," Chris answered trying not to grimace under the extreme pain he was in.

"That's enough!" Howard shouted. "Xavier, hit the showers. Now!" Chris released himself from Ray and Fraser's grip, then marched - well, limped - angrily out of the gym.

"Jerk," Lynda muttered under her breath.

Howard sternly looked at her. "You're just as much to blame, Kowalski. That last comment you made was wrong. You knew it would make him mad."

"But, sir -"

"I don't want to hear it." Howard held up a hand, silencing her. "Hit the showers."

Lynda sighed. "Yes, sir." She walked quickly out of the gym.

Howard shook his head. "Honestly, you think two adults could be grown up enough not

to act like that. Okay, everyone, go on and practice your warm ups." He walked off the mats and let his students practice. He smiled warmly as he went over to the four visitors. "I'm Officer Howard. Thanks for helping."

"Detective Ray Vecchio," Ray smiled. "And this is Detective Stanley Kowalski, and Constable Benton Fraser." Dief growled slightly. "And Diefenbaker."

"We're Lynda's friends," Fraser replied.

"And father," Stanley added.

"Lynda's mentioned you three on numerous occasions. Dief, we already know. I'm sure you're aware that she's been bringing the wolf to class most of the time."

"Actually, he's my wolf, and I'm responsible for his actions. I apologize for any trouble he's caused."

"Oh, Constable, the Academy doesn't mind. In fact, Diefenbaker's been used in demonstrating some police K-9 procedures for those interested in K-9 positions once they graduate."

"And just when were you going to tell me?" Fraser asked Dief. Dief just sat on his haunches and yawned. Fraser shook his head. "Ingrate."

"So, what's the deal between that guy and Lynda?" Stanley asked.

"Ever since the first day of classes," Howard explained, "Lynda and Chris have been competing for the top of the class. I will say I'm thoroughly impressed by their skills. Both are equals, in the classroom, in the gym, and on the firing range. Sometimes, however, they tend to compete just a little too seriously. Did you know that they were both the Valedictorians of their high school? They have exceptional high school records and achievements."

"We knew Lynda was," Fraser answered. "And that could account for her competitiveness."

"Really?" Stanley asked. "How so?"

"From what we know about Lynda," Fraser explained, "she's never failed at anything she's set her mind to." Fraser turned to Howard. "Did Lynda lose to Chris in some manner during training?"

"Three times," Howard answered. "Once in the classroom, once on the firing range, and once in the mats."

"Well, we've known Lynda long enough to know she doesn't like losing very much," Stanley said.

"Chris is the same way," Howard replied. "But he seems to take it more personally than Lynda. Lynda at least tries to make an effort and not lose her cool, but Chris just seems to find the one thing that causes Lynda to, in fact, do that."

"Which would be . . .?" Ray asked.

"I don't know. I'm never around when it happens, and Lynda never wants to talk about it with me."

"Then it's most likely something very personal," Fraser remarked.

"Do he always state the obvious?" Howard asked.

"Always," Stanley and Ray answered.

"Look," Stanley sighed. "We'll talk to Lynda. She's more likely to open up to us and tell

us what's going on."

"I'd appreciate that," Howard nodded. "She's going to be a great cop, but she needs to get rid of that anger she has."

Nothing more was said as Lynda came into the gym. She had changed out of her sweats and into her Civilian Aid uniform, her brown suede jacket over that. Her face was cleaned up, but a small bruise was starting to form on her nose where Chris had kicked her.

"Ready, Lynda?" Stanley asked.

"Yeah, let's go," Lynda answered as she slung her backpack over her shoulders. "Officer Howard, I'm sorry about what I did earlier."

"Apology accepted, Lynda," Howard smiled. "Have fun at work. Oh, and put some ice on that nose."

"Thanks. I will." The fivesome walked out of the gym together.

"So, you wanna tell us what's going on?" Ray asked as the five walked into the usual hubbub of the 27^th District Squad Room.

"What do you mean?" Lynda asked as they walked over to her desk. Lynda took off her jacket and hung it up on her coatrack.

"Lynda, you know what we mean," Stanley replied.

"Chris, right?"

Stanley nodded. "So, what's the deal?"

"Could someone get me some ice first?" Lynda asked as she gingerly touched her nose. "My nose is really hurting."

"I'll get it," Fraser volunteered. He left to go to the lounge.

"The reason Chris and I are at each other's throat all the time is because I know who he really is," Lynda explained.

"What, is he some undercover FBI Agent, too?" Ray joked.

Lynda fixed him with a Look. "That wasn't funny, Ray."

"Sorry," the Detective apologized.

"Who is he?" Stanley asked.

"He's a fake," Lynda answered just as Fraser came back. He handed Lynda a small bag of ice. "Thanks, Fraser." She put the ice to her nose. "Oh, that feels so much better."

"What do you mean he's a fake?" Ray asked.

"He cheats," Lynda replied bluntly. "At everything. On his tests, on the firing range, and even when he fights."

"Do you have any evidence?" Fraser asked.

"Yeah, I overheard him," Lynda answered. "He was talking with one of his friends who was helping him."

"How could he do that without being caught?" Stanley asked.

"Simple," Lynda answered. "His friend is able to get computer access to every single test without getting caught. On the firing range, he's able to switch targets to make it look like he shot a perfect score. And in fighting, he uses illegal moves, but he's so swift that no one catches him . . . except me."

"Does Chris know that you know?" Fraser asked.

Lynda nodded. "Yes, he does. In fact, he constantly taunts me with it."

"Have you told Officer Howard this?" Ray asked.

"I can't. There's no way I can prove it. It's Chris' word against mine, and right now the Probation is still fresh on my record. Who would you believe?"

"You," Stanley answered. "We've known you too long to know that wouldn't lie about something like this."

"Thanks," Lynda smiled. "But the fact remains that he's going to be a police officer, and not be qualified for the job. Not only is it wrong, but it's dangerous. I don't want to have someone on the force like him. He'll likely become a bad cop, which means it'll be harder to fight criminals. Knowing him, he'll be *helping* the criminals, and not his fellow officers."

"Then we have to stop him," Ray said.

"How?"

"By doing a little investigating." Ray reached in his Armani jacket and pulled out a miniature tape recorder. "If you can get him admitting to cheating recorded on one of these little babies, then you can take it to Officer Howard. You'll have all the evidence you need. Let me show you." He pressed the rewind, then play. "'But the fact remains that he's going toooooo-" Lynda's voice abruptly cut off as the recorder broke down. Ray fiddled with it. "I thought I fixed this thing." He banged it against Lynda's desk.

The Mountie raised his eyebrows. "Ray . . . Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray."

"What?" Ray looked up.

"Did you press the little red button?"

"Fraser, if you ask me that again, I'm going to shoot you." He sighed. "Stupid machine."

Lynda looked slightly amused. "Oh, yeah, I'm really sure we can catch Chris that way, Ray."

"Oh, and I bet you have a better idea," Ray looked upset as he tossed the recorder in Lynda's wastebasket. "One hundred dollars right down the tube."

"Actually, I do." Lynda turned to her computer and switched it on. After it warmed up, Lynda typed quickly onto the Department's main system. "I can access the Police Academy from here, and find out who's had access to the test from three days ago. Remember, we had out third to last test on December first."

"Did you get it back, yet?" Stanley asked.

"Yeah, I got a ninety-five."

"Good job, Lynda."

"Thanks . . . okay, we're in. Just a few more keystrokes, and . . . voila!" A screen was pulled up. "Uh oh." Lynda quickly turned away.

"What's wrong?" Ray asked.

"That's the copy of our next test," Lynda said. "I don't want to see it. I'm going to earn my grade, unlike certain other people who'll remain nameless."

"Very noble gesture," Fraser remarked.

"Noble, yeah, but who's going to get this program up and running?" Stanley asked.

"Fraser, I can talk you through it," Lynda offered. She got up from her seat and let the Mountie sit down. "Okay, Fraser, type this is word for word." She let loose with a series of complex commands.

Fraser's fingers swiftly moved over the keys until another screen appeared in place of the test. "I think this is it, Lynda."

"What's it say?" she asked, not turning around.

"It say 'Exam Number 5' dated December 1^st."

"Okay, that's the one, Fraser. Now, type in this command." Lynda dictated some word

to the Mountie who typed them down. A new screen came up. "Is there a new screen up?"

"Yes, it has names, dates, and times," Fraser answered.

"That's it, then. Could you print it up?" Fraser obliged. Lynda took the printed copy from her printer and looked at it. She smiled. "Good work, Fraser."

"You got something?" Ray asked.

"Yeah," Lynda answered. She grabbed a pen from her desk. "Between last week and the actual test date, there were nine times this particular test was accessed."

"So?" Stanley asked.

"Seven were by Howard," Lynda replied. "He tells us in class that he doesn't make the final decisions for the test until the night before."

"And the other two?" Ray asked.

"By an unknown source," Lynda circled two lines. "One was dated November 30^th at 12:17 AM, and the second was on December 1^st at 12:54 AM."

"But couldn't it have been accessed by Officer Howard on another computer?" Stanley asked.

"Not likely, Stanley," Fraser spoke up. "The Chicago Police Academy system works on access codes. Each of the instructors had his or her own access code. That means no matter where that particular officer is, they have to enter their access code before being allowed into the system."

"But wouldn't that mean that whoever got in wouldn't have been allowed to get in in the first place?"

"Not necessarily, Dad. Sometimes, computer programers put back ways into their programs when they first create them. They're called trap doors. These things allow the user to bypass normal security procedures and access a computer program. In fact, that's how I'm able to access most things if I don't remember the specific codes."

"And you think that Chris' friend used this trapdoor to get a copy of the test for him?" Ray asked.

Lynda nodded. "That test was hard, even for me, and you three know how much I studied for it."

"So, what now?"

"Well, I'm going to need to trace the code back to Chris' friend. If we can connect him to this guy, then we can prove Chris has been cheating and get him expelled."

"How long will it take?" Stanley asked.

"Who knows," Lynda said. "But I'll work as quickly as I can." Fraser got out of her seat and let her sit back down. Immediately, she began typing, looking for the specific codes that would link the computers so she could begin tracing.

Stanley, Ray, and Fraser knew that leaving her would be the best thing so she could get things done faster. As they walked over to Ray and Stanley's desks, Welsh's door opened and the Lieutenant walked out. Behind him were three of the most prominent people in Chicago: the Governor of Illinois, Rachel Thomas; the Mayor of Chicago, William P. Harold; and the Superintendent of Police, Mark Read.

"Okay, everybody, listen up," Welsh's voice boomed over the hubbub. Everything quickly quieted, and all the room's occupants gave their undivided attention to Welsh. "For the past hour I have been speaking with Governor Thomas, Mayor Harold, and Superintendent Ian Read about a new program that is going to greatly affect the Chicago Police Department within the next month. Governor Thomas."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Governor Thomas smiled. "For the past four months now, I have been working with Mayor Harold and Superintendent Read on the possibility of creating a new program. The Detective Division of the Chicago Police Department is, in our opinions, the most important division in the entire department. In the last year alone, more than 3,000 arrests were made, half of which included gun, drug, and illegal substance smuggling. Thirty-five percent of those cases were made by the District 27^th Detective Division alone."

"Thanks to Fraser," Stanley whispered to Ray.

"The new program we have in mind," Mayor Harold took over, "would allow an individual who met certain requirements to immediately take the Detective's Examination upon graduation from the Police Academy. We strongly feel that with the proper training, a graduate could join the rank of Detective without having to wait for almost ten years. This, in turn, would provide the CPD with more able-bodied officers to utilize their skills as Detectives, providing more protection and investigation for the people of Chicago."

"The program took three months to get approved by the State," Superintendent Read finished up. "The last month was spent selecting candidates who would be evaluated. Only one person out of the three chosen will be allowed to take the Detective's Examination after graduating. Upon passing the examination, that person will then be given the full rights as any other Detective for three months. If, after those three months, we are satisfied with the results of the young Detective, that person will remain as a Detective permanently. Then, the program will initialized for others to begin training." There was a low murmur among the officers. "I think the entire Division will be happy to know that one of the three candidates chosen to be the first Detective is your own Civilian Aid, Lynda Kowalski."

Lynda looked shocked, just like everyone else in the room. "M-m-me?" her voice squeaked.

Mayor Thomas smiled warmly. "Miss Kowalski, we have been reviewing your history and we are all very impressed. You have great fighting capabilities, a great high school record, and just an overall impressive lifestyle that would make you a good cop. And ever since you started working for the District 27 Detective Division, we have noticed an increase in crimes that have been solved with your help. If you were to make the rank of Detective who knows how many more case will be solved. Would you please consider our offer?"

Lynda opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She cleared her throat, then opened her mouth again. Nothing. The words would not form in her mouth.

Stanley smiled. "I think that's a yes," he said. Lynda nodded furiously in agreement. There was a smattering of chuckles from everyone.

"The final choice will be made by Friday," Governor Thomas explained. "Good luck, Miss Kowalski." The Governor, Mayor, and Superintendent left the Squad Room.

Lynda, still unable to talk, slowly sat in her chair, not sure what to say. Stanley, Ray, and Fraser, along with Francesca, Welsh and Huey and Dewey walked over to her desk.

"Hey, congratulations, Lynda," Stanley smiled proudly at his daughter.

"Detective Lynda Kowalski," Ray thought about it. "Has a nice ring to it."

"That would be weird," Francesca remarked.

"Yeah, if she *did* make the rank of Detective," Huey replied, "then she'd be the youngest Detective in the city."

"Try the world, Jack," Dewey retorted. "Sort of like a Doogie Howser, except as a cop instead of a doctor."

"But why me?" Lynda asked, her voice finally coming back to her.

"Lynda, no one deserves this honor more than you do," Fraser said.

"Exactly," Welsh nodded. "In all my time as Commander of the Division, I have never seen anyone with the skills and capabilities that Lynda has. Even Elaine wasn't nearly as good, and that's saying a lot."

"Well, I'll do my best, sir. It would be kinda cool if I was chosen."

"'If'?" Stanley asked. "Try 'when'."

"Yeah, if they don't chose you, then they shouldn't be having that program in the first place," Ray nodded firmly. "I mean, how many Chicago officers can say they've been trained by two Chicago Detectives and a Canadian Mountie?"

Lynda smiled. "Sir, do you know who the other two candidates are?"

"Yes. They're both in your class, Lynda so you should know them. Claudia Fisher and Christopher Xavier."

"What?!" Lynda jumped out of her chair. "You can't be serious!"

"Whoa, Lynda, what's the problem?" Huey asked.

"Yeah, take a chill pill or something," Dewey agreed. "You're a bit too uptight."

Lynda was too busy with Welsh to give the Duck Boys a Look, so Stanley did it

for her. "Sir, please tell me you're wrong."

"May I ask why you seem upset?"

"Because Chris doesn't deserve to even be in the Academy," Lynda answered. "He lies, he cheats, and he's a bad person in general."

Dewey raised his eyebrows. "Huh?"

"Maybe I should explain," Fraser suggested. "The four of us - that is, Lynda, Ray, Stanley, and myself - have reason to believe that Chris has been manipulating his way through the Academy classes."

"Any proof?"

"He's told me right to my face," Lynda answered. "Ever since I first found out, he's been purposely taunting me with the fact that only I know and there's no way I can prove what he's done."

"Until now, anyway," Ray replied. "Show 'em what you got, Lynda."

Lynda handed Welsh the paper with the dates and numbers. "I was able to access the dates one of my old tests was accessed over the computer. There were two instances, one on the night before the exam, of an unknown user accessing the information. I'm working on tracing it back to one of his friends, we can connect him to the crime, and he can be expelled. He'll probably also be eliminated from the program."

"Okay," Welsh nodded. "I'll have to inform the Superintendent about this -"

"Sir, no!" Lynda lashed out. "Uh, I mean . . . I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to lash out like that. It's just that with my previous record with the Academy I doubt they'll believe me unless I have some hard evidence."

"Fine, then get it. You only have one day, so get busy." Welsh left and went back to his office. The Duck Boys and Francesca went back to their desks.

"So, how are we going to work this?" Stanley asked.

"*I'm* getting a new recorder," Ray said.

"I can follow Chris around," Lynda suggested. "Maybe he'll slip up and end up incriminating himself."

"First, get that information traced," Stanley said. "You find out who this guy is, then we'll pick him up. You think anyone besides you would be able to say Chris is friends with this guy?"

Lynda nodded. "Of course. No one in class likes him much. Rumor has it that he's part of a local gang."

"Which gang?" Ray asked.

"The Silver Dragons," Lynda answered.

"Ew," Stanley and Ray grimaced. "Very nice group of teenagers."

"No kidding," Lynda agreed. "Rumor also has it that Chris is their leader."

"Then he's more dangerous than we previously thought," Fraser said grimly. "If that's the case, then when he graduates from the Academy, he'll be able to keep the police off the Silver Dragons, providing the gang with inside protection."

"Then let's get to work," Stanley said.

"Hey, look," Lynda said as she stood up, "would it be okay if I got Alana and Annie to help me?"

"Why?" Stanley asked.

"If I'm going to be doing my investigating at the Academy, I'm going to need some help. They'll both be able to keep and eye on things, and provide distractions in case I need them."

Stanley and Ray looked at each other. They nodded.

"Okay," Ray replied. "Just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"Hey, this is me we're talking about," Lynda protested.

"Exactly," Stanley said. "So be careful. I don't want to get a phone call saying I have to come bail you out of jail for B&E."

"I will. Oh, Ray, can I borrow your lock picks?"

"Why?" Ray answered as he reached into his Armani jacket and pulled out a small leather case about the size of an eyeglass case.

"Well, if I'm going to be doing any investigating, then I'll need to be able to . . . get into certain areas."

"Lynda, you're not an official officer," Fraser said gently. "If you're caught, then you'll be charged with Breaking and Entering. They'll expel you out of the Academy and off the program."

"I'll have to take that risk," Lynda answered. "I just couldn't live with myself if I sat idle by and watched Chris become an officer."

"Isn't there a possibility we can do an investigation without doing anything illegal?" Fraser asked the three.

"There isn't time, Benny," Ray answered, handing Lynda the small case. "You know how to handle lock picks, Lynda?"

"Ray!" Fraser admonished his friend. "You're encouraging her."

"I can handle them, Ray," Lynda said, ignoring her mentor. "Thanks."

"No problem," Ray smiled. "Just return them in one piece, or you owe me fifty bucks for a new set."

"Is anyone listening to me?" Fraser asked.

"I'll be careful with them," Lynda said as she put the set in her jacket pocket.

"I guess not," Fraser answered his own question.

"So, if you become a Detective," Francesca thought aloud as she came back, "then that means -"

"She'll be able to give you orders, Frannie," Ray interrupted.

"Not that she listens to them anyway," Stanley answered wryly.

"Har, har," Francesca sneered. She muttered something under her breath in Italian as she walked away.

Lynda frowned. "Hey, Frannie, watch what you call my father."

Francesca stopped and turned around. "You understood what I was saying?"

"She speaks fluent Italian," Ray folded his arms across his chest.

"Yeah," Stanley did the same thing. He glanced down at Lynda. "Uh, what did she call me, Lynda?"

"Trust me, Dad, I can't say. I'm too much of a lady. Ray, you tell him."

"Come on, Stanley, Fraser. Let's go." The two Detectives and the Mountie left. Lynda could see Ray tell Stanley exactly what was Francesca said. She could see her father turn beet red.

"Frannie!"

Lynda laughed before returning to her work.

Lynda stood with her friends, Alana Ryle and Annie Entzminger, near her car in the Academy parking lot. She had managed to start her computer on tracing the unknown source at Division, but then there was nothing else to do until it spit back a name or a location. So, Lynda and Dief left the Squad Room and went back to the academy, in hopes her two friends would still be there. They were, and Lynda explained what her plan was to them. She leaned against her car, arms folded, and waited for their answers. It didn't take long.

"Are you nuts?!" Annie said loudly. "You want us to do what?!"

"Oh, come on guys," Lynda pleaded. "I need your help."

"No way," Alana shook her head furiously. "I don't want to get involved."

"Yeah," Annie agreed. "Are you looking for a death wish, Lynda? Chris is the leader of the Silver Dragons, and you want to go up against him? Why?"

"Because if he becomes a cop, then he'll be able to provide the Silver Dragons with protection from the police," Lynda answered. "They'll be unstoppable."

"Look, we know that," Alana said, "but there's not much we can do. Besides, isn't this a job for the police; your father, and Ray, and Fraser, for instance?"

"They're already involved," Lynda answered, "but they need someone who can investigate from this point of view. I know more about this place than they do. I'm going to get them the evidence they need, then they'll arrest Chris and everyone involved."

Annie peered closer at her friend. "Lynda, is there something you're not telling us?"

"Like what?" Lynda asked, petting Dief. The wolf sat in the backseat and watched the three humans.

"There's another reason you want Chris out of the picture," Alana said. "What is it?"

"Am I that easy to see through?" Lynda asked. Annie smiled and nodded. Lynda sighed. "Okay, I'm not supposed to tell you this yet, but while I was at Division, the Mayor, the Governor, and Superintendent Read informed everyone that a new program was going to be initiated after Graduation. Three candidates from our class are being evaluated for this program. On Friday, one will be chosen for the program. That person will be allowed to take the Detective's Examination after graduating. If that person passes the examination he or she will be allowed to legally become a Detective."

"Whoa," Alana whispered. "Is Chris one of them?" Lynda nodded. "No wonder you're so determined, Lynda. You know how dangerous he would be if he became a Detective."

"So, will you help?" Lynda asked.

"Sure," Annie nodded. "You can count me in."

"Me, too," Alana agreed.

"Thanks, guys," Lynda smiled. "Let's go back to my place and get some stuff we'll need. I'll explain exactly what your roles will be." They got in the car.

"So, who are the other two candidates?" Annie asked as they buckled their seatbelts.

"Claudia," Lynda answered as she started her car and drove off.

"No surprise there," Annie smiled.

"And me," Lynda said quickly.

"You?" Alana asked. Lynda nodded, smiling.

The shrieks of delight that were emitted from the 57' Chevy could be heard for blocks as Lynda drove north on Lake Shore Drive.

"This is Pixie to Maxima, do you copy?"

"Copy that, Pixie. I hear you."

"Kitty? What about you?"

"I hear you, Lynda."

"Pixie, Alana. My codename is Pixie."

Alana sighed and removed her earpiece. "I still don't know why we have to have codenames." She looked around Lynda's computer room. The three girls were in there amongst the clutter of electronics and other surveillance equipment, trying out some of Lynda's equipment, including the wristwatches she finally got around to repairing. Dief was lounging out, licking a lollipop that Alana had slipped him.

"So, how do you feel about this entire thing?" Annie asked as she took her earpiece out of her ear and cleaned it off.

"What do you mean?" Lynda asked as she set configurations on her laptop.

"About the possibility of becoming a Detective. I thinks it's really cool."

"So do I," Alana smiled. "It's a great honor to be chosen for this program, Lynda. Aren't you excited?"

"Right now I'm trying to make sure we nab Chris and get him out of the Academy. I'll be excited afterward."

"How do your friends feel about it?" Annie asked. "And your dad?"

"They're all really happy for me," Lynda answered. "I'm kind of surprised, though. I mean, if I do get this position, then I'll be the youngest Detective ever. Everyone down at Division has worked for eight, nine, or more years as a cop before they even took the Detective's Examination. I don't know how they'll feel about me being their equal without the same amount of experience under my belt."

"Lynda, you already work alongside them," Annie said. "We've seen how they treat you.

They treat you like an adult. I don't think much will change if you become a Detective."

Lynda smiled as she grabbed a package of high speed film. She added it to a small black bag that was filled with other surveillance equipment. "Thanks, guys." She slung the bag over her shoulder. "Ready to rock and roll?"

"Let's do it," Alana smiled as she and Annie followed Lynda out of the bedroom. Dief joined them.

The three young ladies were en route from the apartment to the firing range when Lynda's car phone rang. She picked it up. "Hello?"

"Lynda, it's me," Stanley said. "Your computer was finally able to trace the computer belonging to the unknown user."

"Great," Lynda replied. "Who is it?"

"Uh . . ." Stanley reached for a printout. "A Vince Klein. 234 Oak Street. You know him?"

"Not directly," Lynda answered. "Have you got a picture of him?"

"Yeah."

"Is he five feet, ten inches, with brown bushy hair, brown eyes that slant inward slightly, and a big nose?"

Stanley looked at Klein's picture. "Yeah, he is."

"Great," Lynda smiled. "Then that's they guy I saw talking with Chris about the computer."

"Okay, Ray and I'll go get him."

"Dad, Annie, Alana, Dief, and I are on our way to the firing range," Lynda said gently. "We're going to need hard evidence that Chris is linked with this guy. You're going to get mad, but I think you should wait until the four of us get some more evidence."

"Lynda, the candidate is going to be chosen tomorrow," Stanley said frustrated. "You

don't have much time."

"Exactly, Dad. If you go and get Klein now without hard evidence, Chris will hear about

it and it'll be harder to catch him. We may even end up not catching him at all."

"So, what are we going to do?" Stanley asked. "Sit on our butts until you call?"

"That's exactly what you're going to do," Lynda said. "I'll be in touch." She hung up.

Back at the Squad Room, Stanley started open-mouthed at the receiver, then looked up at Ray and Fraser, who were standing near his desk. "I don't believe it. Lynda just hung up on me."

"Now, Stanley, I'm sure she didn't mean to."

"Fraser, she *hung up on me*."

"So, what's she say on us getting Klein?" Ray asked.

"She wants us to wait," Stanley said as he hung up the receiver.

"Why?" Ray looked confused.

"She says we're going to need more hard evidence than just Klein."

"Like what?"

Stanley leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk. "I don't know. All I

know is that she and her friends are going to the firing range."

"Then let's meet her there," Ray said. "I don't know about you two, but I want to know

how exactly she's planning on doing this." He grabbed his coat off his coatrack and put it on. "You with me?"

Stanley jumped from his chair and grabbed his sports jacket. "Yeah," he answered after putting it on.

"Now, look, Lynda asked us to wait until she called," Fraser said.

"Fraser, I'm not a patient person, remember?" Stanley said. "Now, come on, pitter patter,

let's get at 'er."

He and Ray walked together out of the Squad Room. Fraser sighed, then shook his head. "They never listen." He walked quickly to catch up with his partners.

"How long is this going to take?" Annie whispered, slightly impatient.

"Just a few more minutes," Lynda whispered back.

"That's what you said fifteen minutes ago," Alana hissed.

"Well, look, any of you two know anything about picking locks?" Lynda looked up from

the doorknob she was trying to pick with Ray's picks. They shook their heads. "Good, then let me concentrate." She jiggled the pick in the doorknob. A loud click came a few seconds later. Lynda smiled. "We're in." She turned the doorknob and opened the door easily. 'Let's go." She hurried inside, with Annie, Alana, and Dief behind her. They looked around the lobby of the Academy building. It was empty, as was the rest of the building.

"Where to?" Alana asked softly.

"Firing range," Lynda answered. The four headed down a corridor to the firing range.

They went into the firing range and looked around. Dead silence. They walked down and looked at the separate booths, where each student shot. Lynda went over to the one that Chris was assigned to. She dropped her bag and began searching it.

"So, what are you looking for?" Annie asked.

"Evidence that Chris doesn't shoot as well as he wants us to think he does."

"And you're going to do this . . . how?"

Lynda raised her eyebrows. "I'm not sure. Listen, why don't you guys go and keep a lookout, okay?" She reached in her bag and pulled out three wristwatches and earpieces. She handed two to Alana and Annie, and put the third set on.

"But what about you?" Alana asked.

"I'll be fine. Now, go keep an eye out just in case someone decides to show up."

"But how are we going to explain ourselves?"

"You'll think of something," Lynda said as she rummaged around in her bag. "Now go."

Annie and Alana left the firing range, while Dief went sniffing around. Lynda poked and prodded the booth for anything unusual, but there was nothing she could find. She sighed as she stood up and looked around. Her eyes settled on the targets about fifty yards away.

Working on a hunch, she walked over and examined Chris' assigned target, or the machine that held it in place. Knitting her eyebrows, she peered closely at it. This was her first time this close to one of the target, but she knew something was not right.

As she was running her fingers along the side of the machine, a group of small, elongated cylinders popped out from the front of the machine. Lynda nearly jumped out of her skin as she fell backwards onto the floor. She sat there, gasping for air, then looked up. The cylinders were gone.

Lynda stood up, then began examining the machine again, her curiosity getting the better

of her. She ran her fingers along the side again. The cylinders popped out again, then retracted in less than a second. Lynda grinned. She now knew how Chris was able to 'shoot' a perfect score every time.

She was on her way back to the booth when she heard Alana and Annie shriek. Lynda held her breath. Someone had discovered them. And now, Alana and Annie were going to pay for her stupidity. I never should have asked them to get involved, she thought as she ran back to the booth and ducked in it.

She heard approaching footsteps. Lynda knew that besides Annie and Alana, there were three other people. Lynda deduced the unknowns were male, late thirties, two wearing boots. She shook her head. Now was not the time for Fraser's teaching to be going through her mind. She needed a plan, a way to get out in as little trouble as possible. She needed -

"Kowalski?" a familiar voice called out.

Lynda held her breath.

"Come on out, Kowalski," two deep voices shouted. "You're surrounded. There's no way out!"

Lynda carefully raised her hands as she stepped from her hiding place. She saw Fraser,

Ray, her father, Annie, and Alana standing there. The Detectives were grinning and laughing. Lynda scowled as she lowered her hands.

"Oh, man, I wish I had a camera for that," Ray laughed.

"Very funny," Lynda frowned. "What are you guys doing here? I thought I said wait

until I call."

"Yeah, but we don't like waiting," Stanley said. "So, we decided to see exactly what

you're up to. Got anything?"

"Actually, yeah, I do." Lynda herded everyone over the target machine. "Watch this."

She triggered the mechanism that shot the tiny cylinders out, then quickly retracted. Everyone stared.

"Whoa, what was that?" Stanley asked.

"The way Chris was able to 'shoot' a perfect score," Lynda smiled. "Every time the class

shot on the firing range, he must have triggered this machine to put holes in the targets, making it look like he shot a perfect score."

"But if was shooting at the target, then wouldn't there be extra bullet holes?" Ray asked.

"Not necessarily, Ray," Fraser said. "There is a way you can shoot something without having to actually shoot something."

"Huh?" The Detectives looked confused.

"Blanks," Lynda replied.

"Precisely, Lynda," Fraser smiled. "Chris could have loaded blanks into his gun. To

everyone else, it would appear that he's shooting regular bullets."

"Fraser, buddy," Stanley said, "good theory, but the guns are given already loaded to the

students. There's no way that Chris could replace the real bullets with blanks without being noticed."

"Unless the bullets were switched beforehand," Annie spoke up.

"Yeah, what if the guy who gives us our guns is in on this?" Alana asked. "Everyone is

assigned one gun for the entire course. Chris could have gotten the guy to load blanks into his gun every time we came to the firing range."

"How you gonna prove it?" Ray asked. "Good thinking, but unless it can be proven that

this is even really happening, we're at a dead end." He turned to the three young cadets. "And you're sure Chris is shooting from the same booth every time?"

"Yeah," Lynda nodded. "Just like with our guns, we're assigned the same booth every

time." She thought for a minute. Suddenly, her eyes brightened. "Omigosh! Of course!"

"What?" everyone asked.

"Yesterday, a Channel 8 news crew came by to do a segment on the Academy," Lynda

said. "They interviewed Chris right after his 'perfect score' on the range. Chris was showing off his target on camera. If we can get that tape and the target he used yesterday, then we can prove that Chris has been cheating."

"Lynda, we threw away our targets yesterday," Annie said.

"But trash isn't picked up until tomorrow," Lynda retorted.

"And how is that going to prove that Chris is doing this?" Stanley asked.

Lynda ran back to her bag and took a notepad of paper out. She ran back, tore a sheet off

and secured it where a target would normally go. Then she triggered the mechanism. The cylinders shot through the paper, then retracted almost instantly. She tore the paper off and handed it to her father.

"See?" she asked. "The cylinders punched through the paper from the back, causing the openings to face forward. The target's the same way, I bet."

"Good job, Lynda," Stanley said, smiling. "Let's get down to the Channel 8, and get that

tape."

"You guys go, okay?" Lynda said as they walked back to the booth where Lynda's bag

was.

"And what are you going to do?" Ray asked.

"Find out who's in charge of handing out the guns," Lynda answered. "I also want to

search the area where the guns are kept."

"Be careful," Stanley said.

"I will. I'll be fine."

"What about us?" Annie asked.

Lynda smiled up at her friends. "You've both been a big help, thanks, but I think it would

be best if you left and went home. I don't want you to get into trouble if we're caught."

"We're staying," Alana said firmly. "We want to help nail Chris' butt to the wall."

"Fine," Lynda said. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"All three of you be careful," Stanley warned. He left with Fraser, Ray, and Dief.

Lynda sighed before picking up her bag. "Well, let's get to work, shall we?"

"May I help you?" a brunette secretary asked as Fraser, Ray, Stanley, and Dief walked into the Channel 8 News lobby.

"Chicago Police," Stanley said as he pulled out his badge and showed it to the brunette.

"Detective Kowalski, Detective Vecchio, and Constable Fraser."

"Are you a Mountie?" the brunette asked Fraser, eying his uniform.

"Yes," Fraser answered. "I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father

and, for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, I've remained attached as Liaison with the Canadian Consulate."

"Okay," the brunette said slowly. "Well, what can I do for you, Detectives?"

"W need to talk to whoever did that news segment yesterday on the Police Academy,"

Ray said.

"That was Carl Hudson," the brunette smiled. "He's at his desk. One second, please."

She picked up her phone and dialed an extension. "Carl, it's Liz. I have some Detectives who want to speak with you about your segment on the Police Academy . . . okay." She hung up. "Carl will be with you in a few moments."

The quartet waited for about five minutes before a medium-sized man dressed in a business suit walked into the lobby from a nearby hallway. He smiled at the officers. "I'm Carl Hudson. May I help you?"

"Yeah, we need to look at that segment you did on the Police Academy," Ray said.

"May I ask what for?" Carl asked.

"The tape is needed in an investigation of one of the cadets," Fraser explained. "There

may be some evidence on the tape. It would be appreciated if we could see that tape."

"Sure," Carl said. "It's in the archives, with all our other tapes. Please follow me." He

led the three men down a hallway and into a small room. Along the walls were shelves filled with tapes. Carl went over to one shelf and scanned. He pulled a tape marked with the previous day's date off the shelf and handed it to Stanley. "Here you go, Detective. You can watch it on that television." He pointed to a small television and VCR in the far corner. "If you need anything, let me know." He left the quartet to themselves.

Stanley put the tape in the VCR and turned on the television set. Ray grabbed the remote and began fast forwarding through the newscast until they came to the right segment. They watched as the camera showed all the students on the firing range, shooting. It even showed a brief shot of Lynda shooting.

"She's really good," Stanley said. The tape continued to roll. Soon, it came to where

Carl was talking with Chris. Chris was holding up his target for the camera to see.

"Ray, pause the tape," Fraser said. Ray pressed the 'pause' button, freezing the screen in

place. "Lynda was right. Look." The two Detectives peered at Chris' target. Sure enough, the bullet holes were punched with the openings facing forward, not in the back where it should have been.

"Well, I'll be," Ray said.

"'I'll be' what?" Fraser asked.

"It's an expression, Benny."

"Oh."

"We need to get this tape to Welsh," Stanley said, ejecting the tape from the VCR.

"I'll call Lynda," Ray said, taking his cellular from his Armani jacket. "She'll want to

know about this."

Lynda and her friends were finished searching the register's office and began searching in the storage room when her cell phone rang. She reached into her bag and pulled it out. "Hello?"

"Lynda, it's Ray."

"What's up?"

"You and Fraser were right. We got that tape and it showed Chris' target just like the

notepad paper was."

"I knew it. What was the number on the bottom of the target?"

"What number?"

"Ray, each target is numbered differently. What was Chris' target number?"

"How the hell should I know, Lynda? I wasn't looking for that."

"Well, I thought maybe you'd-"

"Lynda, it's Constable Fraser," Fraser interrupted, taking the phone from Ray. "The

number is 78-987-097845."

"Thanks, Frase."

"May I ask what you're going to do now, Lynda?"

"I'm going to find that target."

"You mean, you're going to go through the trash?"

"Yeah," Lynda nodded. "Look, I know it sounds weird, but the more evidence we get,

the better chance we have of nailing Chris to the wall."

"Point taken. Be careful."

"I will, Fraser. Listen, can I talk to Dad for a minute?"

There was silence, then - "Yeah?"

"Dad, guess what?"

"What?"

"I was able to get into the computer system and found out who was in charge of handling

the guns during target practice," Lynda said.

"Who is it?"

"Klein."

"You mean the same Klein as in the one your computer traced?"

"Same one. I think that, combined with the evidence we already have, you can bring him

in."

"And you're going to go digging in trash?" Stanley asked.

"Yeah."

"Lynda, to quote the twenty-fifth letter of the alphabet: Why?"

"Any evidence we can get is good evidence, Dad."

Stanley sighed. "Whatever. Look, just get the target, then get back to Division. We'll go

get Klein, then meet you there, okay?"

"Okay. Oh, and get Frannie to dig up any information on the Silver Dragons."

"All right. Bye."

"Later."

Lynda hung up, then turned to her friends. "So, anyone up for digging in the trash?"

"Chicago Police!" Stanley and Ray yelled as they burst into Klein's apartment. Klein was on his couch eating potato chips. He jumped from the couch and tried to get away, but the Detectives were too quick. Soon, Klein was in handcuffs and being driven to the 27^th.

Within the hour, Stanley and Ray were in Interrogation Room 2 with Klein, grilling him. Welsh and Fraser and Dief were on the other side of the mirror, watching and listening. Klein sat in a chair, while Ray and Stanley circled around.

"Don't even think about offering us some lame excuse," Stanley sneered. "We know it was you who was helping Xavier at the Academy."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Klein glared.

"How about you working at the firing range at the Academy," Ray said.

"Yeah, so?"

"You knew his target had been tampered with," Stanley said. "You slipped him blanks in his gun. You stole copies of the tests so he could get a perfect score every time."

Before Klein could say another word, Francesca came in with a stack of papers. "Here's

all the information on the Silver Dragons, including a list of all known members," she said.

"Thanks, Frannie," Stanley said as he took the papers.

"No problem," Francesca answered before leaving.

Stanley looked at the members list, then raised his eyebrows at Klein. "Well, well, well. Guess who's on the list of the Silver Dragons, Vince? You and Chris."

"Doesn't mean anything," Klein said, sneering.

"Oh, I'd say it means we got plenty to hold you on."

"No, it doesn't," a new voice spoke up.

Everyone turned to see Stella Kowalski standing in the doorway of the interrogation room. She was dressed in one of her usual business outfits, and holding a file folder in her hands. Welsh and Fraser were behind her.

"Hi, Stella," Stanley smiled.

"Back off, Stanley."

"Stella, a pleasure," Ray smiled. "To what do we owe this visit?"

"Klein's free to go," Stella answered. "You have no hard evidence to hold him on."

"Actually, we're waiting for Lynda to get back with it," Stanley answered.

"Why is Lynda working on this case?" Stella asked. "Last time I checked she's not a police officer."

"Lynda knows more about this than we do," Ray answered. "She's been able to get into places we can't."

"Oh, really? And where, might I ask, is she?"

"She's digging through trash," Fraser answered.

Stella and Welsh looked at Fraser. Stella shook her head. "Look, unless Lynda shows up in five seconds with some *usable* evidence, you're going to have to release the suspect or be faced with harassment charges. Your choice." She turned and walked out.

"So, now what?" Ray asked.

"Is Lynda actually digging in trash?" Welsh asked.

"Yes, sir, Leftenant."

"She said she'd be here," Stanley said as he whipped out his cell phone. "She'd better have a good reason for not being here."

"Oh, eeeyuck!" Annie's faced distorted as her fingers ran over a rotting banana peel. "Lynda, I swear you're going to pay for this."

"You didn't have to come in," Lynda retorted. He waded through some old newspapers and coffee grounds. "Look, it's gotta be in here somewhere."

"We've been in this dumpster for over an hour," Alana grumbled, her hair and clothes dirty from trash. "We haven't found anything."

Lynda opened her mouth to say something, but her eyes suddenly fell on a familiar object. She grabbed it. It was a crumpled up paper target, the same kind used in the firing range. She unfolded it.

Annie noticed and waded over. "Hey, is that -"

"I hope so," Lynda studied the front of the stained target. The holes were like that on her notepad paper. She held her breath as she looked at the bottom and read the number. 78-987-097845. "Yes!" Lynda shouted. "It's the same one!"

The three girls started jumping up and down in the dumpster, cheering and screaming when Lynda's cell phone rang. Lynda jumped out of the dumpster and ran to her bag. She reached in and pulled her phone out. "Hello?"

"Where the hell are you?!" her father shouted at her.

"Calm down, Dad," Lynda said, pulling her ear away from the phone.

"I will not calm down, Lynda. You said you'd be here by the time we arrived with Klein. We just had to release him because you never showed up."

"I'm sorry, but it's kind of hard to find a single target in a big dumpster," Lynda answered angrily. "By the way, we just found it. I'll be on my way over as soon as I do two things."

"What's that?"

"Get changed - I have a set of clothes in my car - and take some shots of the target in the firing range. Then, I'll be over, and we can get both Klein and Chris. Okay?"

Stanley sighed. "Okay, just hurry . . . and be careful."

"I will," Lynda smiled. She knew her father wasn't *that* mad at her. "I'll be there in an hour and a half. Bye." She hung up and put her phone away as her friends climbed out of the dumpster. "Well, it looks like everything's taken care of. Why don't you guys go on home and get cleaned up. You deserve it."

"You sure?" Annie asked.

"Yeah, I can handle myself from here." She reached into her pocket, pulled out her

wallet, took some money out, and handed it to Annie. "Here, that should get you to a taxi to your homes."

Alana and Annie smiled. "Thanks, Lynda."

"Are you guys going to come to the meeting tomorrow morning?"

"Sorry, but we have other plans," Alana said.

"Oh, it's okay, I understand," Lynda smiled. "I gotta do a few things." She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Have a good weekend."

"Good luck." Alana and Annie walked toward a nearby pay phone as Lynda walked back into the Academy building.

Klein walked out of the 27^th District Police Department. Chris was leaning against a patrol car, his arms folded across his chest. Klein sauntered up to him.

"Well?" Chris asked.

"Cops had to release me," Klein said, smirking. "Seems that Kowalski bimbo didn't show up with the right evidence."

"But she will," Chris said. "Then it's both of our necks. It's only a matter of time before they figure out you tampered with the target machine, if they haven't figured it out already, especially since they have that Mountie as their friend. I bet they already know we're with the Silver Dragons, and I'll bet Kowalski told 'em."

"So, how do you want to deal with her?"

Chris sneered. "The same way we dealt with the Diamondbacks. Get a few of our boys together. I think I know where to find her."

Klein smiled knowingly before nodding.

Lynda borrowed one of the showers in the Academy and got herself cleaned up, then changed into a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and running shoes. She threw her dirty clothes into her bag, and walked out. She went back to the firing range, got her camera out, and took some shots of the tampered target machine. After shooting an entire roll, she put the camera back, and walked out.

As she as walking out of the building toward her car, she took her cell phone out and dialed Welsh's number. "Hello, sir. It's me . . . yes, I'm just about to leave the Academy. I'll be at Division in about thirty minutes. Okay. Bye." She hung up and put her phone back in her bag. She took her car keys from her jeans pocket and opened the trunk. She put her bag in the trunk, then slammed the lid shut.

"Going somewhere?"

Lynda whirled around and gasped. Chris and Klein were standing together. But they weren't alone. Lynda counted about three other people with them. She knew they were probably Silver Dragons. She frowned and stood tall. "What do you want, Chris?"

"I've been hearing some very disturbing rumors, Kowalski," Chris said. "Vince tells me you've been putting your nose where it doesn't belong."

"I've been doing what needs to be done," Lynda glared. "Ridding Chicago of pond scum like you. You're going to answer for everything you and the Silver dragons have done.""

"Tsk, tsk," Chris shook his head. "You've lived in Chicago long enough to know that we don't answer to nobody . . . especially the police." He snapped his fingers once. Before Lynda could react, two of the three men grabbed her and held her tightly by her arms. "You've stepped over the line, Lynda. Now, it's time to pay." He edged closer to Lynda.

"Well, all we have to do is wait for Lynda show up, then I'll give Stella a holler. Then, we can go and get Chris."

"Patience, Kowalski," Welsh said. He, Stanley, Ray, Fraser, and Dief were in Welsh's office. The remaining Squad Room staff had left for the evening. The only light came from inside the office.

"This is going to be so cool,"Stanley grinned impishly. "Finally, this whole mess is going to be over."

"Can't disagree with you there," a new voice spoke up.

Everyone turned their heads and were shocked by who they saw standing in the doorway. Lynda was leaning against the door frame. Her left eye was black and blue, her right cheek was cut and bleeding, and her bottom lip was bruised and swollen. Her clothes - jeans and a T-shirt - were torn.

Stanley was the first one to her side. "Lynda, what happened? Are you okay?"

"I'll get the first aid kit," Fraser said quickly before leaving the office.

Stanley helped Lynda over to Welsh's couch, where they both sat down. Stanley looked angry. "Who did this to you, Lynda?"

"Chris," she answered. "I was coming from the Academy when he and his gang jumped me. They . . . well, I don't have to tell you what they did to me." She sighed. "I tried to fight back, but there too many of them. They got everything. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Lynda," Stanley said gently, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. Fraser came back carrying a small, green kit with a red cross on it. "Anything broken?"

"No," Lynda smiled. "I'm tough." She winced. "But I'm in pain, too."

The Mountie got out some antiseptic and a cotton swab, dipped the swab in the antiseptic, then carefully put it to Lynda's cheek. She grimaced. "Sorry," Fraser apologized. He carefully dabbed more liquid onto Lynda's cheek and lip. Lynda held her father's hand and squeezed it tightly whenever the antiseptic stung. Fraser then put some bandages on Lynda's cheek and secured it with tape. When he was finished he tightly secured the kit closed. Stanley angrily got up from his seat and marched for the door.

"Detective, where are you going?" Welsh asked.

"I'm going to get Chris," he answered. "No one beats my daughter up and gets away with it." He opened the office door.

Lynda jumped up from her seat. "Dad, please, wait."

"Lynda, he's not going to get away with this."

"But you can't just go and get him. You're a police officer."

"But I'm your father first."

"Dad, it's over, okay? You can't prove that it was him or any of his friends. They'll just cover for each other."

"I have all the proof I need when I look at your face."

"Stanley, Lynda is right," Fraser said gently. "If you bring in Chris, the courts will just release him."

Stanley turned around angrily. "So, what, I'm supposed to just forget it ever happened? Trust the committee that they won't pick Chris tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, Stanley."

"Sorry, Fraser. I can't do that."

"I can't either, Benny," Ray said as he stood next to Stanley.

"Guys, we don't have any other choice," Lynda said quietly. "Since Chris took - and mostly likely has destroyed - the evidence we had against him, there's nothing more we can do." She sighed. "I don't like to admit it, but we've done everything we can."

"What do we do, then?" Ray asked.

"Go home and get some sleep," Lynda answered. "Tomorrow's an important day."

"Think you can make it home?" Welsh asked.

Lynda nodded. "I drove all the way here by myself. I think I can go home okay."

"We'll follow you," Stanley said. "Just to make sure you get there without any problems. And I know you're going to get all mad when I say this, but I would feel better -"

"You can walk me to my apartment, Dad," Lynda smiled. "And you can even check it out, okay?"

Stanley came over and put an arm around her shoulder. "You know me too well, you know that?"

"You're welcome," Lynda replied.

Together, they walked out of the office. Ray, Fraser, and Dief joined them.

Lynda walked into the courtroom the next day cooly. Despite the bandages, cuts, and bruises on her face, she still looked professional, dressed in a tan sports jacket, a white blouse, and tan slacks. Her hairs was swept to the side. She saw her group sitting near the from of the room. Everyone had come to lend support: Stanley, Ray, Fraser, Welsh, Francesca, the Duck Boys . . . and even Thatcher and Turnbull.

Lynda smiled as she approached the group. "Thanks for coming," she said as she sat near her father. She looked around the room. The place was packed with people and members from the media. Claudia and her friends and family sat a few rows back. Lynda's eyes landed on Chris and some of his gang members - the same ones who had roughed her up the previous night.

Fraser noticed, as did everyone else. He saw Lynda's fist ball up. "Lynda, calm down."

"I'm calm, Fraser," Lynda answered.

"Then why are your knuckles white?" Turnbull asked.

Lynda looked down at her fists, then relaxed. She sighed.

A redheaded bouncy reporter strolled up to Lynda, a small microphone in hand. She was accompanied by a camera guy with a huge camera on his shoulder. "Are you Lynda Kowalski?" she asked.

"Yeah," Lynda answered.

"I'm Rachel O'Donnell, from Channel 8 News. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions? I need to go live with one of the candidates in a few minutes."

"No, go right ahead." Lynda stood up.

O'Donnell turned to her camera guy. He cued her to begin talking into her microphone. "I'm coming to you live from the Justice Building here in the heart of Chicago where, in just a few minutes, the most historical meeting in the city of Chicago will take place. I'm speaking with one of the candidates who was chosen for the police program, Lynda Kowalski." O'Donnell turned to Lynda. "Miss Kowalski, how do you feel about the possibility of being chosen to be the youngest Detective this city has ever seen?"

"I'm quite honored," Lynda answered. "I was extremely shocked when I first learned about this entire thing, but now I'm excited about it all." And she was, there was no lying there.

"Do you think you deserve it?" O'Donnell asked.

"Of course she deserves it," Stanley said, standing up.

"And you are . . .?" O'Donnell asked.

"Detective Stanley Kowalski. I'm her father."

"And what do you think about this entire thing, Detective?"

"There is no one more qualified for this program than Lynda." Lynda smiled. "She's smart, she's got the know-how, and she's been a great help at Division already."

"Are you sure you're not saying that just because you're her father?" O'Donnell looked amused.

"No, he's not," Ray stood up. "Lynda's the best thing that's ever happened to the 27^th District."

"You seem to have a lot support, Miss Kowalski," O'Donnell smiled. "Would you like to introduce everybody?"

Lynda smiled. "You know my father. This is Detective Ray Vecchio, my superior Lieutenant Harding Welsh, my fellow Civilian Aid, Francesca Vecchio, Detectives Jack Huey, and Thomas Dewey - all from the 27^th District Police Department - and Inspector Thatcher, Constable Benton Fraser, and Constable Renfield Turnbull of the Canadian Consulate."

O'Donnell raised her eyebrows, then she smiled. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet all of you. I wish you the best of luck, Miss Kowalski." She turned back to her camera. "Live from the Justice Building, this is Rachel O'Donnell, Channel 8 News. Back to you, Todd."

"And that's it," the camera guy said, putting his camera down.

"Thanks, Gus." O'Donnell turned back to Lynda. "Miss Kowalski, off the record, I want to say that I hope you get chosen. I've been doing research on all three of the candidates, and yours, in my opinion, was the most impressive. Good luck."

"Thank you," Lynda smiled.

"By the way, what happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your face."

"Oh, I . . . I had an accident in my kitchen last night."

"Well, take care." O'Donnell left with Gus.

"Lynda, why didn't you tell her the truth?" Fraser asked.

"Fraser, if I told her that Chris - one of my competitors - was the one who beat me up, do you know how bad I would have looked? And it would have made Chris look better, like I couldn't stand the competition. He would revel in the attention, which he would use against me."

She sighed as she folded her arms across her chest. "Man, I can't wait until this is over."

Chris chose that moment to stroll up with his gang members. "Well, Lynda, it's a pleasure to see you here," he smiled. "I heard you had some gang-related trouble last night. What a shame." He smirked at his friends. "You know, once I become a Detective, I'll make sure to deal with that situation." His friends laughed.

"Bite me," Lynda muttered.

"Ditto," Stanley frowned.

"Oh, now don't be such a poor sport, Kowalski. I just came by to wish the best of luck." He held out his hand.

Lynda looked at his hand, then at Chris. She looked around. Other people were looking at them, some reporters included. She sighed inwardly, knowing that this is what Chris wanted. She stood up, then smiled sweetly. "You, too. May the best person win."

"He already has," Chris sneered, squeezing Lynda's hand tightly before letting go. He walked away, his friends close behind him.

"He doesn't seem like a very nice person," Turnbull replied as Lynda sat down. Everyone in the group fixed him with a Look. "What?"

Thatcher shook her head. "Turnbull."

"Man, what a creep," Ray said. "Makes me wish I could take my gun out and shoot him."

"Now, Ray, killing him wouldn't solve anything," Fraser replied.

"Who said anything about killing him, Fraser? I just said shoot. Maybe in the arm or in the stomach . . ."

"Or you could make him sing soprano permanently," Lynda looked hopefully at her friend.

All the men just looked at her with pain in their eyes as they crossed their legs. The women, on the other hand, were grinning devilishly.

"Uh, Lynda," Fraser's voice squeaked. He cleared his throat. "Lynda, I don't think . . ." He trailed off, unable to speak.

Nothing further was said as Governor Thomas; Mayor Harold, and Superintendent Read, came into the courtroom. The room became silent as the three approached and sat down at a wooden table in the front. They took their seats, and fiddled with the three microphones.

"First, I would like to welcome everyone who joined us on this wonderful day," Governor Thomas said. "This is quite a historic day for everyone, not just our three candidates."

"Before we let the public know about what our final decision," Mayor Harold cleared his throat, "we feel that it is vital that the exact details of this program be outlined so there will be no misunderstandings."

"Oh, great," Stanley said under his breath, "we're gonna be here forever."

Lynda jabbed him in the ribs. "Be quiet, Dad."

Mayor Harold rambled on and on about every minute detail of the program. Everyone in Lynda's small group, even herself, were getting very bored with it. Finally, Mayor Harold finished, and Superintendent Read took over.

"Would the three candidates please approach?" he asked.

Lynda took in a deep breath as she stood up. She looked at her friends. They all gave her a thumbs up, except her father, Ray, Fraser, Welsh. They brushed their thumbs across their noses; their signal for good luck. Lynda smiled before returning the signal. She joined Chris and Claudia as they stood in front of the committee.

"First, I want to thank all three candidates for their cooperation," Superintendent Read smiled. "I wish we could have all three of you taking the Detective's Examination, but it just wasn't possible."

"Get to the point," Stanley whispered loudly.

"All three of you are excellent and outstanding people," Read continued, "and you will make fine officers. It was hard to choose only one person, but after careful consideration, we have made a decision. The candidate who has been chosen is -"

It was as if time stopped.

Lynda took in a deep breath, and just held it. Stanley, Ray, Fraser, and the rest of the group leaned forward in anticipation. The entire room was silent, save for the sounds of cameras clicking off.

"- Christopher Xavier!"

Lynda closed her eyes in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. It was as if her worst nightmare was coming true. Her stomach churned, making her feel nauseous. She led out a long sigh as she opened her eyes.

Chris was shaking the hands of the committee, grinning like an idiot. He came over to Claudia, then shook her hands. She smiled, then congratulated him. Then he came over to Lynda and shook her hand. He was smiling handsomely, but Lynda knew it was all just an act. She knew that he was laughing on the inside, laughing in her face.

While he went over to his friends, and the press, Lynda went back over to her group of friends. She tried to smile, but it was hard. Everyone looked sympathetic.

"Hey, you okay?" Stanley asked.

Lynda shook her head. "I can't believe it. He's - the program . . . oh, I think I'm going to throw up, it makes me so sick." She looked around the courtroom, landing on a small statue on the judge's bench. It was the symbol of blind justice: the blindfolded woman holding the unbalanced scales and the sword. "You know how people say justice is blind?"

"Yeah," Stanley answered.

"Well, I think we can testify that it's true," Lynda answered. "Especially after what we just witnessed." She marched angrily out.

As soon as Lynda burst through the doors, she saw a mob gathered around Chris. He was talking up a storm, enjoying all the glory, sucking it up like it was a milkshake . . . a chocolate milkshake . . . creamy and smooth, with -

"Lynda, why did you run out like that?" Stanley asked.

"Chocolate," she answered distractedly.

"Huh?" Stanley looked confused.

Lynda shook her head. "Oh, uh, nothing."

"You sure you're okay?" Ray asked.

Chris chose that moment to catch Lynda's eyes. He smiled victoriously at her. That did it.

Lynda narrowed her eyes into little pinpoints. "Excuse me for one moment."

"Lynda, don't do anything you'll regret," Fraser warned gently.

"Trust me, Fraser, I won't." She left her friends and marched over to Chris. She stood about ten feet from the mob, her arms folded across her chest, her left foot tapping gently. "Oh, Chris, can I have a word with you?"

"Sure," the young man answered. He motioned for the reporters to stop asking questions. "I know you have more questions for me, but I have other things to attend to. If you'll excuse me." The mob dispersed, leaving the two cadets alone. "What, Kowalski?"

"I think you know, Xavier."

"Well, just humor me, then."

"Fine. Let's put it this way: you may have won this battle, but the war is far from over."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. So, you better start watching your back, because you're going to make a mistake. And when you do, I'll be there. And I'll make sure the whole city knows about it."

Chris took a step toward Lynda. "Don't threaten me, Kowalski. Or else."

"Or else, what? You and your friends going to rough me up again? That won't work, not on me. Other people may be intimidated by you, but I'm not. I am, however, gonna make sure you go down - hard. And believe me, you will. It's only a matter of time." With that, she turned and walked away from him.

"What was that all about?" Stanley asked as she approached her group.

"I just told Chris he'd better start watching his back," Lynda answered.

"Lynda, threatening doesn't do anyone any good," Fraser said.

"Not that type of threatening, Fraser. I'm talking about how I'm going to watch him like a hawk, ready to strike as soon as he makes one slip up."

"You think he will?" Ray asked.

"Yeah, if he's as cunning as you say he is," Dewey replied, "then he won't make a slip."

"Oh, he will," Lynda said firmly. "I'm counting on it. He may be cunning, and he may be beguiling, but he's also stupid."

"In what sense?" Stanley asked.

"He decided he wanted to mess with a Kowalski," Lynda said.

"Two Kowalskis," Stanley corrected her.

"He's also messed with a Vecchio," Ray said.

"Two Vecchios," Francesca corrected her older brother.

"A Welsh."

"Three Canadians," Thatcher replied.

"Two Duck Boys," Huey said, speaking for himself and his partner.

"'And a partridge in a pear tree'," Lynda sang. Everyone laughed at her joke. Lynda sighed. "You know what I'd like right now?"

"What?" Stanley asked.

"A big, chocolate ice cream sundae," Lynda said. "Oozing with chocolate sauce, and covered with chocolate sprinkles."

"Enough chocolate for you?" Ray asked wryly.

"Whenever I get depressed," Lynda explained, "I crave chocolate. And I'm in the biggest, deepest, bluest funk known to man."

Stanley put an arm around his daughter. Together, with the rest of the group, they walked out of the building.

Lynda put the last spoonful of chocolate dessert in her mouth, letting the creamy concoction slide down her throat. "Mmmm. I needed that."

She, Stanley, Fraser, and Ray were in a booth of a small cafe that specialized in international desserts. The others had returned to their appropriate places at the Consulate or Division. Dief, who had been waiting in Lynda's car during the earlier meeting at the Justice Building, was now laying underneath the table, listening to his human companions talk. He was also snacking on a piece of apple pie that Lynda ordered, much to the objections of Fraser.

"Feel better?" Stanley asked, taking a bite out of his pineapple upside down cake.

"A little," Lynda answered. "How's your cake?"

"Good. Could've used more pineapple."

"Ray?"

"This cherry pie is heavenly. I want the recipe." Ray took a bite of the flaky crust.

"Fraser? How's your 'Mousse Au Chocolat'?"

"Quite delicious, Lynda. Thank you kindly for asking." He wiped some mousse from his mouth with a napkin. "You know what's interesting about chocolate and the history of France?"

"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell us," Ray answered wryly.

Fraser ignored his friend. "The first chocolate factory in France was at Bayonne, where a corporation of chocolate makers set up in -

"1761," Lynda finished. "They exported chocolate to Spain and to Paris."

"Precisely," Fraser smiled.

Ray sat up straighter. "How did -?"

"French history," Lynda explained. "Tenth grade."

"You see?" Stanley pushed his plate away. "This is why you should have been chosen; you finish Fraser's sentences. Not too many people can say that."

"Thanks, Dad." Lynda sighed. "I just wish there something we could do."

"Don't worry, Lynda," Fraser assured her. "We'll think of something."

"Yeah, there's no way we're going to let Chris get away with this," Ray said. Dief gave a loud bark in agreement.

"I know you won't," Lynda said. Tears welled up in her eyes. "It's just . . . I just wanted to have a chance to make a difference."

"Lynda, you have made a difference," Stanley said as he handed his daughter a napkin. "Look at everything you've done since we first met."

"Such as?" Lynda dabbed at her eyes. "Tell me one thing I did that made a difference."

"Okay, how about when you got the entire Division's computer system changed after finding the virus that Dewey accidently uploaded?" Stanley said. "You singlehandedly created a better, more organized system that helped every single person do their work faster."

"And your band," Fraser pointed out. "A lot of people like your voice."

"And about the time you came with Welsh to help get me out of my undercover assignment," Ray replied.

"And when we had that talk right after Ray came back," Stanley smiled.

"And when you came up with those ideas when the Canadian Mob was after us," Ray replied. "Granted, some of them were insane, but they worked."

"How about when we were up in the Yukon?" Fraser asked. "The snowball fight, when we were rebuilding the cabin, and when I started teaching you."

"Or during Halloween," Ray said. "When you nailed those guys who were robbing the convenience stores."

"And the plane ride through Hurricane Jason," Stanley nodded. "That was cool."

"And during Thanksgiving, which was not too long ago" Fraser said. "You showed Stanley how to properly use a fire extinguisher after he set the turkey on fire."

Lynda smiled. "I only said one thing, but you're right."

"Of course we are," Stanley joked. He put an arm around his daughter. "Seriously, Lynda, don't think you haven't done anything important. You came into our lives. That's the most important thing you could've ever done." Lynda kissed her dad on the cheek. Stanley smiled at the other two men. "I love it when she does that."

"What about us?" Ray looked pitiful.

"Well, if you say something nice," Lynda smiled, "maybe you'll get a kiss on the cheek, too."

"Okay . . . you're pretty?"

"Try again, Ray."

"You're insanely smart?"

"Not even close."

Ray started thinking. Stanley leaned closer to his daughter. "Having fun?"

"Tons," she whispered back, giggling.

"How about . . . you're such a terrific person that no guy is good enough for you?"

"Ooh, I like it," Lynda raised her eyebrows. "But, it still won't cut it, Ray."

"Aw, come on, Lynda, I'm poring my heart out here."

"Ray, come here. Let me tell you the secret to flattering a woman." Lynda motioned Ray to lean over the table, which he did. She planted a small kiss on his right cheek. "You just did it."

Ray smiled. "Thanks, Lynda."

"Do I get one?" Fraser asked.

"Of course," Lynda chuckled. She kissed the Mountie, making him sigh softly.

"Woof, woof, woof!" Dief emerged from under the table and looked expectantly at Lynda.

"Fine. You, too, Dief," Lynda said before kissing the wolf on his nose. "Happy?"

Dief licked her cheek. "Now that I've kissed my favorite guys, who's going to pay the check?" She held up the small paper that was on the corner of the table.

"I'm broke," Ray said quickly.

"Me, too," Stanley agreed.

"Lynda, I'd gladly pay, but all I have are Canadian funds."

Lynda sighed, then pulled her wallet out of her jacket pocket. "Never mind." She put a handful of bills on the table with the check, including a nice tip for their waitress. Then, the five left the cafe and walked to their cars, parked side by side. Lynda pulled out her sunglasses and put them on. "Look, I don't have to be back at Division for another hour, so I'm going to go with Dief to Grant Park, okay?"

"Be careful," Stanley said. He put on his pair of sunglasses, making himself and Lynda look even more alike.

"I will. Come on, Dief." Dief jumped into the passenger's side of Lynda's car. Lynda got in and drove away. Stanley got into his GTO with Fraser, while Ray got into his Riv. They pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to Division.

"'Standing outside the fire'," Lynda sang as she drove north on Michigan Avenue. Dief accompanied her by howling. It was warmer than usual, so Lynda had her top rolled down. Hair - and fur alike - was blowing in the somewhat cool breeze. "'Standing outside the fire. Life is not tried, it is merely survived, if you're standing outside the fire'." Lynda drummed her hands against the steering wheel in time to one of her favorite Garth Brooks songs. Suddenly, a tan car pulled in front of her, nearly clipping her Chevy.

"Hey, watch it, you jerk!" Lynda said as she applied her brakes slightly. She shook her head. "Honestly, Dief, you think some people could actually learn how to drive *before* they get their driver's licence."

"Woof, woof!"

"You're right; let's not worry about it. Let's finish up the song okay? 'There's this love that is burning, deep in my soul. Constantly yearning to get out of control. Wanting to fly higher and higher. I can't abide, standing outside the -" she stopped in mid-note as the car in front of her began weaving side to side, nearly hitting a couple of cars on both occasions.

Lynda turned down her radio and reached for her CB. "Dispatch, do you copy?"

"10-4," Dispatch answered.

"This is Lynda Kowalski," Lynda replied. "I have a possible 10-57."

"Okay, Kowalski," Dispatch said. "Describe the vehicle."

"1971 Lincoln Continental, tan with white top. Illinois licence plate 498-PQW. Two people are occupying the interior."

"10-4. Stand by." Lynda patiently waited as Dispatch ran the usual procedures for incoming calls like this. "Kowalski, the vehicle you described has been reported stolen."

"What should I do?"

"What's your 10-20?"

"Going north on Michigan Avenue," Lynda answered. "We just passed Jackson Drive."

"Keep following them, but at a safe distance. Do not try to apprehend anyone by yourself. I'll send the closest units available. Just keep calling out your location."

"10-4." Lynda gripped her CB and the steering wheel. She turned to Dief, who was staring at her. "What?" Dief whined. "We won't get into trouble again. This time, I have permission to do this." She noticed the street signs. "Just crossed Monroe."

Suddenly, the Lincoln did a 180-degree turn right in the middle of an intersection. Horns honked and brakes squealed as the Lincoln sped off, going south on Michigan Avenue. Lynda followed in hot pursuit.

"Dispatch, this is Kowalski," she spoke loudly into her CB. "The Lincoln is now traveling in the opposite direction. I repeat, I am now following the Lincoln, going south on Michigan Avenue. The driver must have spotted me."

"Copy that, Kowalski," Dispatch answered. "Units 117 and 120 are on their way. I'll inform them of the situation."

"10-4." Lynda sighed as she gripped the wheel tighter. She was really lucky she had practiced her police driving skills with Ray and Stanley a couple weeks ago. Everything she had learned was going to come in handy, she just knew it.

As the Lincoln approached Congress Parkway, it turned right onto it. Lynda followed as her stomach clenched. The driver was heading right for Grant Park. At this time of day, Lynda knew that the park would be filled with people, children . . . even family pets. It was time for her to take action.

She pressed her foot to the accelerator, and pulled up beside the Lincoln on the right. She turned her car into the other, trying to veer it away from the park. The driver of the other car thought this would be a fun game, and steered his car right back into Lynda's. The passenger rolled down his window and started chucking beer cans at her, not just empty one, but full ones as well. Nevertheless, Lynda held her ground.

Suddenly, she heard a loud bang, like a shotgun. The Lincoln swerved to the right, fish-tailed to the left, crashing into a tree. It came to a halt, smoke pouring out from the hood.

Lynda squealed her car to a halt, then just stood there, trying to catch her breath. She looked back to see Ray's Riv and Dewey's car pull up beside the Lincoln, and Ray, Stanley, Fraser, Huey, and Dewey got out. While the Americans dealt with the occupants of the Lincoln, Fraser went over to check on Lynda.

"Are you alright?" he asked, helping her out of her car. Dief jumped out beside her.

"Yeah," Lynda nodded, rubbing her head. She could feel a bump, where one of the full cans of beer hit her in the head. "That smarts." She looked back at her car. Her jaw dropped open when she saw the damage.

The left side was completely scratched up and dented when she rammed her car into the Lincoln. And her windshield was cracked in several places from where the beer cans hit it. Anger bubbled up inside of Lynda.

"Oooh, they're going to pay," she said through clenched teeth.

She turned around and marched angrily to where the Detective had taken the suspects out. It was none other than Chris and Vince. They had barely been pulled from the car when Lynda marched up to Chris and slugged him in the eye. He was knocked to the ground.

"That's for wrecking my car," she said angrily. She stopped as she sniffed the air, smelling a putrid odor. "Oh, what is that awful smell?"

"Alcohol," Stanley answered, picking Chris up. "Nice right hook, Lynda."

"Yeah, well, he messed with my car, Dad. What do you think I'd do, just sit idle by?"

"Not you, Lynda," Ray agreed wryly.

"You're gonna be sorry," Chris answered drunkenly, barely able to stand on his feet. Dewey and Stanley were holding him up. Jack and Ray were doing the same with Vince. "I'm gonna get . . . assault charges on you, Kowalski."

"What assault?" Ray asked. "I didn't see her hit him, did you, Jack?"

"No, I didn't see a thing, Ray. Tom?"

"I saw nothing like that, Jack. Stanley?"

"I must have blinked," Stanley said seriously.

A patrol car pulled up soon after that. Chris and Vince were taken away, leaving the Detective, Mountie, wolf and Civilian Aid alone.

"Thanks, guys," Lynda smiled.

"Aw, forget it, Lynda," Ray said. "We know full well that you don't want to mess with a person who adores their car, especially if it's a classic."

Fraser had joined the group. "Lynda, was it really necessary to hit him?"

"Actually, no, Fraser, because my hand is hurting." She showed her right hand, which was turning lavender on the top. "Jerk's got a hard head."

Dief, who had been sniffing around the back part of the Lincoln, suddenly whined. Everyone went over to see Dief pawing at the trunk. Everyone tried to open the car, but to no avail. That's when Lynda went to the driver's side, retrieved the car keys from the ignition, and came back. She handed them to Stanley, who tried all the keys until he found the right one. The trunk was opened.

"I don't believe it!" Lynda exclaimed excitedly.

"What?" Huey asked.

"This is all the evidence that Chris stole from me when he and his friends jumped me the other night."

"You sure?" Stanley asked.

Lynda nodded and reached in, pulling out papers, folders, and tapes. "I can't believe it. I thought he was going to destroy it." She searched through the evidence. "Uh oh."

"What 'uh oh'?" Ray asked.

"Some files are missing," Lynda answered. "The ones where Chris was found to be cheating."

"So, he must have gotten rid of them," Huey said.

"I don't think so," Fraser spoke up. "If Chris wanted to destroy all the evidence, then he would have done so already."

"So, you think they're still around?" Stanley asked. Fraser nodded.

"Okay, I can get a search warrant," Ray said, reaching for his cell phone. He dialed a number and talking with one of the state judges. "Okay . . . yeah, thanks." He hung up. "Okay, people, Judge Simmons was very nice to issue a warrant, allowing us to search Mr. Xavier's apartment. It'll be ready by the time we get back to Division."

"Who's going to take care of Vince and Chris?" Fraser asked.

"Jack and I will handle them," Dewey said.

"And the three of us will go check out Chris' place," Stanley replied.

"I'd like to go, too," Lynda spoke up. "I'll know what to look for."

"Okay," Stanley nodded. "Let's get to work."

"Oh, Dad, by the way, great shooting earlier."

Everyone stopped and stared at Lynda.

"How did you know it was him?" Ray asked.

"By three simple deductions, Ray. One, when I was alongside the Lincoln, I heard the bang, and saw the car swerve out of control. And two, Dad still has his glasses on. He only uses his glasses to shoot, so I put two and two together."

"Whoa," Stanley took his glasses off. "Where's the third deduction?"

"Oh," Lynda blushed slightly. "I, uh . . . I saw the car's back right tire blown out."

"And you had to go through all that rambling on about hearing loud bangs and seeing your father wear his glasses?" Ray asked, annoyed.

"Sorry," Lynda apologized. "I just -"

"Forget it," Ray shook his head. "Let's just go." He walked back to his Riv with Stanley. Huey and Dewey went back to Dewey's car. Fraser and Lynda just looked at each other, then shook their heads. They walked back to Lynda's car, with Dief in tow, and followed the others back to Division.

Thirty minutes later, Ray, Fraser, Stanley, Lynda and Dief were inside Chris' apartment. They broke up and began searching everywhere for the missing files. Lynda checked the bedroom with Dief, while the others checked the rest of the apartment.

"Man, this guy is a slob," Stanley said, noticing the greasy paper wrappings with half-eaten burgers on them. He checked under sofa cushions, and underneath furniture, overturning books and papers. Nothing.

"Oh, that's the pot calling the kettle black," Lynda shouted from the bedroom.

"And what's that supposed to mean, Lynda?"

"You're place isn't exactly in the cleanest conditions, either, Dad."

"And yours is?"

"Actually, it is, Stanley," Fraser answered, leafing through Chris' desk with Ray.

"Fraser, stop taking her side."

"Hey, Lynda, I think these are the tapes ans stuff you were talking about," Ray said, holding up three copies stuffed full of papers.

Lynda came out of the bedroom, carrying several large folders of papers. She made her way over to the group.

"What's all that?" Stanley asked.

"Just a second, Dad. Hold these." She handed everything to her father, then took the stuff Ray handed her. She flipped through them. "Yes, these are it. Now, we have all the evidence we need against Chris."

"Not to mention grand theft auto," Fraser agreed, "drinking under the legal age limit, and having a blood alcohol level of .256."

"And we can add extortion and blackmail to the long list of charges," Lynda smiled.

"What do you mean?" Ray asked.

"I found these under Chris' mattress. You may be surprised what's in them." Lynda took some of the folders from her father, who looked like he was about ready to keel over under the weight of it all. She opened up the first set of folders. "In these three folders are lists of names, phone numbers, and addresses. In these other two folders, there was the names again, and by each name is a description of something . . . and some photographs." She raised her eyebrows. "Whoa, I don't think I should be looking at those."

Ray stole a glance. "Hello. Are those two people -"

Crash! Stanley fell backwards underneath the weight of all the papers and folders. Papers scattered everywhere. Everyone looked down to see Stanley laying on his back, papers and folders strewn everywhere. Dief was licking his face.

"So, are you saying Chris was blackmailing all these people?" Stanley asked as he sat up.

"I believe so, yes," Lynda knelt beside her father and began picking up papers. Fraser and Ray helped as well.

"But who are they?" Ray asked.

"I can find out once we get back to Division," Lynda said.

The four finished gathering all the papers up. Lynda would sort through them once they were back at work. With all the evidence in tow, they left with Dief and headed downtown.

"I'm impressed," Stella Kowalski looked over the evidence that was brought into Welsh's office by the group when they returned. She read through files. "What about this list of people that was found in Xavier's apartment?"

"Lynda's trying to find out who they all are right now," Stanley answered.

"Will it be enough to convict Xavier?" Fraser asked.

"Well, even if there was no evidence of blackmail," Stella explained, "there's more than enough evidence to put Xavier away for a very long time." She closed the file and put it down on the table. "And Lynda obtained all this information on her own?"

"Well, with a little help from us," Ray answered.

There was a knock on Welsh's door. Lynda walked in, holding a long printout.

"Well, I found out that all the people on the list do have one thing in common," she said, trying to gather the printout up neatly.

"What?" Welsh asked.

"They're all teachers at the Latin School of Chicago," Lynda explained. "Interestingly enough, every single person on this list was, at one time or another, Chris' teacher during his high school years. There were even some of the faculty, including the principal and vice-principals."

"So, he blackmailed his teachers?" Ray asked. Lynda nodded. "But why?"

"Yeah, it makes no sense," Stanley frowned.

"Actually, Lynda may be on to something," Fraser replied. "If Chris had to cheat on everything in the Academy in order to pass, it could be safe to assume that he cheated in high school to pass and become Valedictorian."

"And if Chris found out something about his teachers that they didn't want anyone else to know," Stanley said, "then he could have used that to make them give him good grades."

"Exactly, Dad."

"Excellent work, Lynda," Welsh smiled. "It's a shame you weren't chosen. You'd make one hell of a Detective." Lynda beamed. "Detectives, I want you to investigate this further before we decide to hand this over to State's Attorney Kowalski. Is that okay?"

"That's fine," Stella agreed. "I can sort through all this other evidence and organize it."

"Want some help?" Lynda asked.

Everyone stopped and started. All the occupants knew how Lynda and Stella felt about each other, so Lynda offering her help was, to say the least, surprising.

Even Stella looked shocked for a second, but she smiled. "That's okay, Lynda. I'm sure your father could use your help more than I could. Thanks for asking."

Welsh raised his eyebrows. "Okay, everyone has their assignment. Get to work. Lynda, you may go with them if you want."

"Thank you, sir." Lynda left the office with the others, leaving Stella and Welsh alone.

"That was a really noble gesture," Fraser said as the fivesome walked out of the Squad Room and to the parking lot.

"Thanks, Frase."

"Why'd you do it?" Stanley asked. "I mean, you know she doesn't like you very much."

"I know, Dad, and I don't like her much myself, but there was no reason to go biting her head off. She didn't yell at me, or make snide comments about me. She just listened to me when I was explaining the evidence, and I could tell it was a honest interest."

"Well, it was very nice of you," Stanley smiled. He and Lynda hopped into the GTO, while Ray, Fraser, and Dief got into the Riv. Lynda glanced over at her wrecked Chevy before the cars pulled away and drove off toward the high school.

"Principal West will see you now," the dark-haired secretary showed the four into a large office. The four saw a heavy-set, balding man sitting a large wooden desk. Papers were orderly stacked.

"Yes, Detectives, how can I help you?" West looked up and smiled. "Please, sit." He motioned to two chairs facing the desk. Lynda and Fraser each took one, leaving Ray and Stanley standing next to them. He noticed Fraser in his red surge. "Are you a Mountie?"

"No, he's a walking fire hydrant," Stanley answered sarcastically.

"Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I first came to Chicago-"

"On the trail of his father's killers," Ray interrupted.

"And for reason that don't need to be explained right now," Stanley took over.

"He's remained attached as Liaison with the Canadian Consulate," Lynda finished.

West looked at them, perplexed, but then shook his head slightly. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Look, we'll cut to the chase," Ray said. "We're here regarding one of your former students."

"Really?" West looked at Lynda. "I don't remember seeing you at my school."

"I didn't go to this school," Lynda answered. "I'm with them." She jerked her thumb toward the others. "We're here about Christopher Xavier."

West paled slightly. "R-r-really?"

"Yeah, we picked him up on a DWI and underage drinking," Stanley said. "Ended up finding a lot more to charge him with."

"Such as?" West looked nervous.

Lynda reached into the left pocket of her sports jacket and pulled out a small notepad. She flipped it opened and began reading. "Twenty-three accounts of blackmail, all dealing with staff and faculty members of this school. Know anything about them?"

"N-n-no," West stammered. "I know nothing."

"Yeah, right," Ray said sarcastically. "You're one of the ones he was blackmailing, right?"

West stood up angrily. "I don't know what you're talking about! Now, please leave."

"Does Monty Carlo, '73, mean anything?" Lynda asked suddenly.

West glanced down at her. She was smirking. West sighed and sat down. "What do you want?" He buried his head in his hands.

"We want to know the truth," Fraser said gently.

"But I could get fired," West protested.

"If you don't tell us," Stanley frowned, "we'll haul you off to jail and make you tell us. You're withholding evidence in a criminal investigation."

"Is it true that Chris blackmailed you so he could get good grades?" Lynda asked. West nodded. "Why?"

"Because of the stuff I did in '73," West said tearfully. "I was young; into drugs, and such. I'm clean now, but if the school board found out, I'd lose my job . . . and Xavier knew that."

"Don't you know you're going to get in trouble when they find out what you did with his grades?" Fraser asked.

"Look, I know it was wrong, but I have a family to take care of."

"I know how important family is," Lynda said, "but because of your actions, and the actions of the rest of the staff, Chris has been chosen to become the youngest person ever to take the Detective's Examination upon graduating from the Chicago Police Academy. If he passes that test, he'll become a Detective, allowing the Silver Dragon to run wild through the streets. No one will be able to stop them."

"My God," West whispered. "I didn't know it had become this serious."

"Would you be willing to testify in court against him?" Fraser asked.

"No," West said quickly.

"But don't you care?" Lynda asked.

"Oh, he cares," Ray frowned. "About himself and his job."

"That's not true," West protested.

Lynda sighed. "You know, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this." She pulled a small recorder out of the right pocket of her sports jacket. She rewound the tape, then pressed play and placed it on the edge of West's desk.

"'I was young; into drugs, and such. I'm clean now, but if the school board found out, I'd lose my job . . . and Xavier knew that.'" West paled as they tape continued to play the entire conversation.

Lynda stopped the tape, and began recording where the conversation ended. "Look, we're giving you two choices: you can go to the State's Attorney and tell her everything you know about Chris, or I will give her this recording. She'll play it in court, and you will be subpoenaed. Think of what the school board will do to you upon knowing *that*."

"She's joking, right?" West asked.

"I'm afraid not," Fraser said. "Lynda has a personal connection to this case."

"Which means she's not afraid to take anyone down to put Chris away," Stanley smirked. "I ought to know; she's my daughter. She's like me."

Lynda smiled up at her father. "Thanks, Dad." She turned to West, her smile fading. "The choice is yours, West." She got up from her chair, her recorder in her hand. She started to leave with the others, but West jumped from his chair.

"Wait!" The four turned around. "What if I testify?"

"We'll put in a good word for you," Lynda answered. "You may have done some stupid things when you were younger - I do stupid things everyone once in a while - but most importantly, you learned from your mistakes. That's what counts."

"And about the tape?"

"No one outside these four walls will know about it," Lynda replied. "And as soon as this case is closed, I'll destroy it."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I give you my word," Lynda answered.

West sighed. "Fine, I'll do it."

"And about the others?" Ray asked.

"I won't make any guarantees," West said, "but I'll talk to them."

"Thank you kindly," Fraser smiled.

The four walked out of the office, leaving West to himself.

"That was good, Lynda," Ray said as the four walked in the parking lot to their waiting cars.

"It was your idea, Ray," Lynda smiled. "The tape recorder, I mean."

"That was good," Stanley agreed, "but your attitude was the best. You went in there and

-Boom! - showed no mercy."

"I thought we did pretty good together," Lynda said.

"We do make a good team," Fraser nodded. "It's going to be hard once you graduate, Lynda."

"No more yelling at my computer, knowing that within ten seconds you'll be over fixing the problem," Stanley mused.

"No one to argue about whether or not jelly doughnuts are better than bagels," Ray sighed.

"No more seeing that smile every single morning," Stanley said glumly.

"No one to cheer us up when we're grumpy," Ray frowned.

"No one to defend my unusual way of thinking," Fraser replied.

Lynda sighed. "I'm going to miss you guys, too." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Oh, thanks, now you've done it." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue. She wiped her eyes. "I said I wouldn't cry, but nooo, you guys had to reminisce."

"Sorry," Fraser apologized.

"I'm kidding," Lynda smiled. She took a deep breath. "Look, we have over a month left until I leave. I don't know about you three, but I don't want to spend it crying and feeling bad that I'm leaving, okay?"

"Okay," Stanley agreed.

"Besides, Christmas is coming up soon. It's going to have to be memorable, since it's our first Christmas together."

"Just like Thanksgiving?"

"No," Lynda shook her head. "Dad, I don't want to have to call the fire department again because you wanted to see how long it would take to set your kitchen on fire."

"The flames weren't *that* high," Stanley protested.

"They were high enough to burn the ceiling. This time, *I'm* cooking the turkey, and we're going to have Christmas at *my* place."

"Okay, okay," Stanley held up his hands in mock defeat. "You win. Let's get back to Division. I can't wait to see the Mayor, Governor, and Superintendent Read's faces when they here the guy they chose is in jail on a long list of charges." He opened up the passenger's door of his car. "Miss Kowalski, your chariot awaits."

"Thank you, my good man," Lynda smiled as she got in.

Stanley closed the door and looked up. Ray and Fraser were smiling at him from the Riv. "What?"

"Nothing," Fraser said.

"Yeah, we'll see you back at Division," Ray replied.

Stanley gave them a weird look as they got into the Riv and drove off. Stanley quickly got in and followed.

"She's something," Ray said.

"That she is, Ray," Fraser agreed. "You know, for as long as I've known Stanley, I don't think I've ever seen him happier than when he's with Lynda."

"Benny, I don't think *I've* ever been as happy as I am when I'm around Lynda."

"No disagreeing with you there." Dief whined from the backseat. "And I think Diefenbaker agrees."

"And it's not like she's had the perfect life. If anything, she should be cynical. I mean, her life isn't picture-perfect - hell it's far from picture-perfect, but I've rarely seen her angry. Why is that?"

"Who knows."

"You know, when I came back to work after being undercover, I could tell the

atmosphere of the Squad Room had changed. It was like everyone, even Welsh, had a little more bounce in their step."

"Well, you know what they say, Ray: 'the spirit of happiness bubbles up and spills over from a joyful heart . . . and all who are near are changed'."

Ray smiled. "That was pretty, Benny. Who said that?"

"A Chinese fortune cookie I had a few days ago."

Ray chuckled. The rest of the trip back to the 27^th was ridden in silence.

Welsh opened his office door, almost three hours after the return of the Detectives, Fraser, Lynda, and Dief. Everyone had gathered eagerly awaiting the news. Inside the office besides Welsh were Stella, the Governor, the mayor, Superintendent Read, Chris, and his lawyer. Welsh looked around at the expectant faces . . . and gave a thumbs up. The entire Squad Room burst into cheers.

Chris was led out the office in handcuffs. He glowered at everyone. When his eyes met Lynda, he charged her. "You're dead, Kowalski!" Luckily, a few officers managed to grab him before he reached her.

"Get him out of here!" Welsh said angrily.

The officers led him away. Everyone could still hear him screaming threats. "You're going to be sorry for what you did to me, you hear?! Everything you care about will be taken away from you! You're going to be sorry!"

"Well, I guess my work here is done," Stella said to Welsh. "For now, anyway." She turned to Lynda. "Lynda, good job. It's a shame you weren't chosen; this department could really use someone like you working for them, considering."

"Hey!" Stanley, Ray, and Welsh protested.

"Thanks, Stella," Lynda smiled. Stella turned ans walked out of the Squad Room. "You know, maybe she isn't as bad as I first thought . . . not that I want to be friends or anything."

"Sure," Stanley smiled.

"Kowalski?" Superintendent Read spoke up.

"Yeah?" Lynda and Stanley answered.

"Oh, you mean her, don't you?" Stanley pointed to his daughter. Read nodded.

"Yes, sir?" Lynda asked.

"On behalf of Governor Thomas and Mayor Harold, I would like to express our thanks for what you did in bringing this situation to our attention."

"I just did what the right thing was," Lynda answered. "Even if it meant sacrificing my position as a police officer . . . so, what's going to happen to the program now that Chris is going to spend his time in jail?"

"That's what we wanted to talk to you about," Read said. "We were discussing this with Welsh and we've come to a decision: we would like you to be the candidate chosen to have the opportunity to take the Detective's Examination upon graduating."

The entire room had been listening and started cheering. Dief jumped up and down, barking. Stanley and Ray each gave Lynda a big hug. Fraser smiled proudly at her, just like Welsh was.

"Thank you, sir," Lynda said, "but I'm going to have to decline your offer."

The entire room got quite.

"What?" Stanley asked.

"Huh?" Ray frowned.

"Pardon?" Fraser looked perplexed.

"Woof?"

"Look, I appreciate the offer," Lynda said, "but I can't accept it, knowing the only reason I'd be doing the entire thing was because your first choice got arrested."

Governor Thomas smiled. "I understand, Lynda, but hear me out. Chris had no skills, he cheated on everything, right?"

"Right."

"Lynda, you lost to Chris only because of that time you were on Probation. Since you agree that Chris was unqualified for the position because he's a fake, then who would be the one doing this program, based on skills and qualification?"

"Me."

"Exactly. Lynda, you are an exceptional young woman. You're smart, articulate, you have an amazing aptitude, and you care about others more than yourself. I heard what your father said in the courtroom earlier today and he's right. There is no one more qualified for this program than you, and no one deserves it more than you. Will you accept our offer?"

Lynda looked around at the sea of faces looking back at her. She sighed, then grinned. "You got me."

The room once again broke into cheers. Lynda hugged her father, then Ray, then Fraser. Welsh stood by as the other officials, just watching as everyone congratulated the young Civilian Aid.

"Okay, okay," Welsh held up his hands after a few minutes. "This is not a social event. Everyone back to work."

Slowly, the hubbub quieted down, and everyone went about their business, except for Lynda, Stanley, Ray, Fraser, and Welsh.

"Lynda, here's everything that pertains to this program," Read handed her a large manila envelope. "It tells you what you should do to prepare for the examination. You're going to be taking it right after the graduation ceremony next month. It also contains information about where you will be stationed should you pass, based on what we know about you. Once again, congratulations." Read left with Governor Thomas and Mayor Harold.

Lynda opened the envelope and took a paper marked 'Assigned District' out. She started reading.

"So, where are you going to go if you pass?" Ray asked.

Lynda's eyes bulged. "Oh my gosh," she whispered.

"Where is it?" Stanley asked.

Lynda looked up, smiling. "It says if I pass the examination, I'll be assigned to the 27^th District Detective Division."

"You're going to work here?" Stanley asked. "You mean as in, we'll see you everyday?"

Lynda nodded. "Not only that, I'm partnering up with you and Ray . . . and Fraser, too, but that's unofficially, it's not written on the paper."

"You're going to be our partner?" Ray asked.

Lynda nodded. Suddenly, she and Stanley and Ray began jumping up and down, and shouting. Fraser looked on, trying hard to maintain proper etiquette.

"Now, I won't have to leave you guys," Lynda said as they calmed down. "And you won't have to worry about me if I wasn't here."

"Lynda, we'll still worry about you," Stanley said. "And how did you know we worry about you?"

"Because I know you too well. All of you. It's something I learned while I was working alongside you."

"We're going to be a great team," Ray said.

"We already are a great team," Lynda said. "The only things that are changing is that I'm going to be able to wear what I want, I'll get a bigger salary, and I get to carry around a gun."

Everyone laughed.

"Listen, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Welsh suggested. "You deserve it."

Lynda smiled as she walked out with Stanley, Ray, and Fraser. Dief trotted happily in front of his human companions. "Oh, Ray, Fraser, I have an answer to your question."

"What question is that, Lynda?" Fraser asked.

"About why I'm happy, considering my past experiences."

Ray and Fraser stared at her.

"How did you know that?" Ray asked.

"You left your CB on," Stanley smiled. "We heard every word."

"So . . . why are you so happy all the time, Lynda?" Ray asked.

"Because I choose to be," Lynda answered. "I know I can't change the past, or what happened in it, so why bother worrying about past events I can't change? Worrying only uses up valuable energy that could be used doing something worthwhile."

"Huh," Ray snorted. "Never thought about it that way."

"Oh, and, Fraser, thank you kindly for the nice words," Lynda smiled.

"You're most welcome, Lynda."

Smiling, the four humans linked arms. Never had there been five friends who were as happy as the ones that walked out of the Squad Room together . . . as a team.

THE END