Author's Note: This is a continuation of 'The Moment Of Truth'. Please
read that before this, or nothing will make sense.  

Prove It 

by Jackie 

pixie7@gte.net	

 Lynda stepped out of her shower and wrapped a clean towel around her. As
water dripped off of her, she went into her bedroom, turned her radio on,
and began getting ready for work. Before getting dressed she took her
Sun-Ripened Raspberries Bath and Body lotion, and lathered it on her skin.
Not only did it keep her skin soft despite the harsh city conditions, it
provided her with a way to smell nice without having to wear perfume. 

 After that was done, Lynda went and blew dry her hair in the bathroom.
Then, it was off to her closet to figure out what she was going to wear.
She opened the doors and stood back. It would be her first real day of
being a Detective, so she wanted to look snazzy as well as 

comfortable. 

 First, she tried on the Armani suit that Ray had given her for Christmas,
with a pair of matching loafers. She stood and looked at her reflection in
her full-length mirror, then shook her head. She looked too much like Ray.


 Next, she tried on a pair of jeans, white shirt, a brown sports jacket,
and a pair white running shoes. No way, she thought. Too much like Dad.
Finally, she decided on the jeans, the white blouse from the Armani suit,
the Armani jacket, and the white shoes. She smiled as she 

looked at her reflection. Much better. 

 After Lynda laid her jacket on her already made bed, she went to the
bathroom, where she put her hair up in a tight French braid, then secured
it with a brown bow, the same color of the jacket. She then applied - very
lightly - some makeup to her face. A little eye shadow, a little blush,
some lipstick, a dab of mascara . . . soon she was ready. 

 Lynda turned off the lights in the bathroom before leaving to go back to
her bedroom. She went over to her night stand and retrieved her main gun
and holster, her backup gun and holster, and five extra clips. She first
put her shoulder holster on, put the gun in it, then followed the same
procedure with her ankle holster. She put the extra clips in her jacket
after she put it on, then fastened her badge and ID on the inside of the
jacket. 

 She remembered to grab her father's lighter, Ray's lock picking set, and
her pocketknife off her night stand, and her cell phone from her dresser,
and put both in her other pocket. Before she left her bedroom, she smiled
as she glanced at the dream catcher hanging over her bed. She had nailed
the gift Fraser had given her the night before right before going to bed.
Maybe there was something to it. After all, she didn't have a bad dream
the previous night. 

 Lynda ventured into the living room, where Dief and Regan were both on
the treadmill. "Okay, boys, time's up." The wolves jumped happily off the
treadmill, then went into the kitchen to get some water. Lynda collapsed
the machine and put it underneath her couch, just as the 

wolves came back. 

 "Hey, guys, what do you think of doughnuts for breakfast?" she asked.
Regan and Dief jumped around, barking happily and wagging their tails.
Lynda smiled as she grabbed her keys and purse off the coffee table.
"Okay, let's go." The three left the apartment.  

* * * *  

 Lynda walked into the Squad Room, clutching a bag of doughnuts in her
left hand. She was munching on a vanilla creme filled one. Dief and Regan
trotted beside her, trying to catch the crumbs that fell. Lynda walked
over to her desk and turned on her computer, letting warm up. 

 "Hi, Lynda," Dewey smiled as he walked over to her desk. He petted the
two wolves. 

 "Hi, Tom," Lynda smiled back. She offered the doughnut bag to him. "Want
a doughnut?" 

 "Sure." Dewey helped himself to a cinnamon one and began munching on it.
"So, you ready?" 

 "Of course I'm ready," Lynda answered as she sat in her chair. She
noticed a stack of business cards on her desk. She picked them up and read
them. "Looks like my business cards came in." She tucked them inside her
jacket. "Question is, will two out of my three partners behave
themselves?" 

 "Did you ever figure out why your father and Ray acted that way?" 

 Lynda shook her head. "Nope, and I don't get it, either. I thought they
were happy that I'm a Detective now." 

 "Maybe they think you'll do so good, you'll make them look bad," Dewey
teased. Lynda looked up wryly. Dewey's smiled faded. "Sorry." 

 Lynda sighed. "I'm going to find out why they acted the way they did
yesterday." She glanced over at Ray and Stanley's desks. No sign of them.
"Well, once they show up, that is." 

 "Good luck," Dewey replied before walking away. 

 Welsh came up to Lynda's desk, with a manila folder in his hands. "Lynda,
where are your partners?" 

 "I don't know, Sir." 

 Welsh dropped the file on her desk. "In that case, you get the honor of
going to see Mort 

and identifying a body that showed up floating in Navy Pier this morning.
Consider it your first assignment." 

 "Okay," Lynda said, standing up and grabbing the file. She walked down to
the morgue, where Mort was humming a symphony - Lynda couldn't tell which
one - while he was examining her assignment. 

 "Hi, Mort," Lynda smiled. 

 "Oh, good morning, Lynda," Mort smiled as he looked up from the body, his
thick accent coming through in his voice. "And how are you zis morning?" 

 "Obviously better that this guy. So, what killed him?" 

 "Vell, I'm still in my preliminary examination, but I zink it vas an
overdose. Zere vas a lot of pills in his stomach, along with some liquid.
Both are being examined by Forensics right now." 

 Lynda leaned over and took a look at the face. She studied it carefully,
noting all the scratches and bruises. "Mort, is it possible he was
attacked?" She suddenly smelled a familiar odor, emanating from the
victim's nose and mouth. "And could that liquid, by any chance, be 

alcohol?" 

 Mort looked up. "Obviously Constable Fraser's teachings have paid off.
Yes, he vas beaten and I do believe zat it is alcohol zat I removed from
his stomach." 

 Working on a peculiar hunch, Lynda slipped on a pair of latex gloves,
then began probing the victim's face. She opened his mouth, and noticed
that some of his front teeth were chipped. "Hmm." 

 "Vat?" Mort asked. 

 "Mort, this man's teeth are chipped," Lynda answered. 

 "Vy is zat important?" 

 "Well, I'm not sure, but I think I have a theory," Lynda replied as she
slipped off her gloves and threw them away. "Do you have his fingerprints
yet?" 

 "Yes," Mort pointed to a nearby folder on the table. "Fingerprints, time
of death, and a few ozer things." 

 "Thanks, Mort," Lynda smiled. She grabbed the folder and left. Back at
her desk, Lynda loaded the fingerprints into her computer, then let it
search. The result showed the deceased was Tony Baruko, age thirty-six.
After a little digging around, Lynda was able to pull up his dental
records. She smiled. She was right. 

 Lynda took the information to Welsh, who was in his office, talking with
Huey and Dewey. "Sir?" 

 "Yes?" 

 "I found some information on the body," Lynda answered. 

 "And?" 

 "The guy's name is Tony Baruko, thirty-six." 

 "The same Tony Baruko of the Baruko family here in Chicago?" Huey asked. 

 Lynda nodded. "At first I thought it was a suicide, when Mort said he
found pills and possible alcohol in his stomach. But then as I was
examining his face, I noticed some of Tony's teeth were chipped." 

 "So?" Welsh asked. "What do chipped teeth have to do with an
investigation?" 

 "Nothing, at first, Sir, but then I went searching through his dental
records I found all his teeth to be in perfect condition." 

 Welsh rubbed his temples. Lynda was already sounding like the Mountie. He
knew he would probably regret this, but he sighed. "And?" 

 "Well, I think that maybe someone forced Tony to take those pills and
alcohol," Lynda explained. "His dental records, which were updated only a
week ago, showed perfect teeth. There were bruises and scratches on his
face, indicating that he was attacked, and struggled a lot to try and get
away. Now, if someone or someones had been forcing him to take the pills
and alcohol while he was struggling, it is possible that he could have
chipped his teeth on, let's say, an glass bottle." 

 Everyone just started at her. Welsh sat back in his chair and sighed.
Just like the Mountie, he thought. "Okay, if that's true, then what?" 

 "Well, Mort said the time of death was between two and four this
morning," Lynda looked at the file. "And we know he was found near Navy
Pier at six o'clock." She tapped her finger as she thought about that for
a few seconds. "Sir, what if we can get information on what 

the current was like last night for the lake at about the time of Tony's
death? We can then mathematically pinpoint the approximate location where
Tony's body was dumped, and work from there." 

 Welsh nodded, clearly impressed. "Okay, Lynda. You find that information,
then report back to me once you figure it out." His telephone rang. Welsh
picked up the receiver. "Welsh?" His eyebrows raised. "Uh . . . sure.
She'll be over as soon as possible . . . goodbye." Welsh hung up the
phone. "Slight change in plans, Lynda. Give Huey and Dewey the
information. You're to report to the Canadian Consulate ASAP." 

 "Why?" Lynda looked confused. "Is something wrong with Fraser?" 

 "Inspector Thatcher wouldn't say," Welsh said. "She just requested -
urgently - that you get over there." 

 "Okay," Lynda nodded. She handed her file and information to Dewey before
leaving the office.  

* * * *  

 "Welcome to Canada, Lynda," Turnbull smiled and stood up from his desk as
the young woman entered the Consulate. He waved to the two wolves as they
trotted in behind her. "Hello, Diefenbaker. Hello, Regan." 

 "Good morning, Turnbull," Lynda smiled as she took off her sunglasses.
"Inspector Thatcher called and said she wanted to see me." 

 "She is in her office," Turnbull said as he walked over to Thatcher's
door and knocked. 

 "What?" Thatcher asked from the other side. 

 Turnbull opened the door. "Detective Kowalski is here to see you, Sir,"
Turnbull answered. 

 "I assume you mean Lynda, since I asked her to come," Thatcher answered
sharply. "Dismissed, Constable." 

 "Thanks," Lynda nodded to the red-clad Mountie before he closed the door.
The young Detective focused her attention on the Inspector, who was
leaning against her desk and looking at a file. "So, what's the big
emergency? I assume that Fraser's alright?" 

 "I wouldn't know," Thatcher replied, looking up from the file. "When I
came to the Consulate this morning, I found him missing. The front door
was slightly opened." She put down the file, then picked up a folded piece
of paper on her desk. She handed it to Lynda. 

 Lynda looked at the front. It read her name. She looked up, her eyebrows
raised. "What's this?" 

 "I don't know," Thatcher answered. "When I went to Constable Fraser's
office, I saw this piece of paper on his desk. It was addressed to you, so
I didn't open it." 

 Lynda sighed before unfolding the paper. The inside read 'Told you so'.
Lynda knitted her eyebrows. "'Told you so'?" she asked aloud. "What's that
supposed to mean?" 

 "How should I know, Detective? I just want to know where my Fraser is."
Lynda jerked her head up, smiling slightly. Thatcher blushed slightly. "I
mean, my Constable - that is, my - I just want to know where he is. He has
a lot of work to do." 

 Lynda wanted to grin, but controlled herself. "I'll see what I can do."
She clutched the paper tightly as she left. Outside, Turnbull was trying
to look busy and slip the wolves liver treats that he got from his desk
drawer. When he saw Lynda come out, he shoved the treats back in his desk,
and pretended to be fascinated with his Rolodex. Lynda smiled. "It's okay,
Turnbull. I don't mind you giving them liver snaps." 

 "What did the Inspector want?" Turnbull asked. 

 "A note was found on Fraser's desk, addressed to me. Fraser wasn't in his
office, nor anywhere around here. Thatcher thinks the two may be related."


 "How so?" 

 "I'm not sure." Lynda whipped out her cell phone and dialed Francesca's
desk number. "Hello, Frannie? It's Lynda. Look, have Ray or my father come
in, yet?" Lynda looked confused. "No? Okay, well - oh, it's about Fraser .
. . no, he's not dead, Frannie. Look, if they come in before I get back,
tell them I really need to talk to them, okay? Yes . . . I'll tell him
that. Bye." 

 Lynda hung up and put her phone away. "Frannie says hi, Turnbull, and
she's really looking forward to going to see the Orion String Quartet with
you tomorrow night." The Mountie grinned like an idiot. Lynda felt
slightly envious of those two. They really cared about each other. "She
also said that my father and Ray haven't come in, yet, but I'm not
worried." 

 "That doesn't seem nice," Turnbull said. 

 "No, the three of us had a fight yesterday," Lynda explained. 

 "But you still should keep track of where they are. You're partners,
after all." 

 "I'm betting they're doing this just to scare me," Lynda sighed before
crossing her arms. 

 "What did you fight over?" 

 "It's not really important." 

 "Oh, Lynda, it must be important if you three are acting this way about
it." 

 Lynda closed her eyes. Turnbull was starting to get on her nerves. "Look,
Turnbull, I -" She stopped short when she felt Dief's wet nose sniffing
the note. "Dief, what are you doing?" Suddenly, the wolf curled back his
lip and let go with a soft, but menacing growl. Lynda and Turnbull looked
at each other. 

 "Dief, what is it?" Lynda asked. Dief gave two quick barks. "Danger?"
Dief barked. She glanced down at the note. "What do you mean?" Dief ran
off toward the back of the Consulate, to Fraser's office. Lynda, Turnbull,
and Regan were close behind. Dief began sniffing around the small office. 

 "Maybe he's found something," Turnbull said. "You don't think that
Constable Fraser has been abducted, do you? I mean, it would make sense,
considering that Diefenbaker didn't seem to like the note in your hands." 

 Lynda looked at the note. She held it up to her nose and sniffed it. It
didn't smell out of the ordinary . . . wait. Lynda took in a deeper
breath. That's when she smelled it. Very faintly. "There is something on
here . . . very familiar. I just can't place it, but it seems to be a type
of cologne." 

 "Constable Fraser doesn't wear cologne," Turnbull said. 

 "I know he doesn't, Turnbull, and it doesn't smell like the types Ray and
my father wear. That means . . . " 

 "Someone else *was* in here," Turnbull said, looking horrified. "Poor
Constable Fraser." 

 "Turnbull, calm down," Lynda said. "There's no sign of forced entry, no
mess - well, except for the usual clutter in the office. All we have is a
front door slightly ajar, and a strange note addressed to me with a
cologne smell on it, and Fraser gone. It doesn't mean anything, yet." 

 "What should I do?" 

 "Alert Thatcher to what's going on," Lynda said as she pulled out her
cell phone. While Turnbull did as she asked, Lynda called Francesca at
Division. "Hi, Frannie. Look, have they come in at all?" Her eyebrows
raised. "Huh, well, that is strange, considering. Yeah, just keep me
posted. As soon as they get in - I don't care if you have to pounce on
them and hog-tie them down - I want to talk to them. Thanks." 

 She hung up and put her cell away as soon as Turnbull and Thatcher came
back. "Well, I just got off with Frannie." 

 "Still no sign of your father or Detective Vecchio?" Turnbull asked. 

 Lynda shook her head. "No, but she told me that she saw something unusual
this morning at her home." 

 "What?" Thatcher asked. 

 "Ray was gone by the time she woke up, but his car was still parked in
the driveway." 

 "That does seem a bit unusual." 

 "Maybe Detective Vecchio decided to ride with your father to work,"
Thatcher suggested. 

 "I doubt it," Lynda answered. "Ray loves his car, and he always wants to
drive it." She tucked the note in her pocket. "I've got a funny feeling
about this - I don't know why. I'm going to the Vecchio house to see if I
can find out where Ray is. If he or my father or Fraser happen to call,
let me know, okay?" She turned to the two wolves, who were sniffing
around. "Come on, boys. Let's go." The three walked out of the office.	

* * * *  

 Lynda pulled her car up beside the curve at 2926 North Octavia. She
jumped out of the car and walked up to the front door, the two wolves
close behind her. She rang the doorbell. 

 A few minutes later, a little boy opened the door. He grinned upon seeing
Lynda, going up to her and wrapping his arms around her legs. He looked up
and smiled. "Hi, Auntie Lynda." 

 "Hi yourself, kiddo," Lynda returned the smile. "Is you mom here?" 

 "Hi, Lynda," Maria answered. "Aren't you supposed to be working?" 

 "Yeah, but -" she glanced down at the little boy, who was playing with
the wolves. "Could I speak to you alone?" 

 Maria nodded, sending her son into the living room. Regan happily
followed, leaving Dief alone with the two. "What's wrong?" 

 "Did you see Ray get up this morning?" 

 "No, he must have left really early," Maria answered. "Why? Is something
the matter?" 

 "Well, I don't know," Lynda answered. "Neither Ray, nor my father showed
up for work this morning, and Fraser's missing from the Consulate. This
note was left on his desk." She pulled the note out and handed it to
Maria, who read it. "Diefenbaker and I both smell a familiar cologne on
the paper, but we don't know who it belongs to, and it doesn't belong to
Fraser since he doesn't wear any cologne, nor Ray or Dad." She sighed as
the note was handed back to her. "I don't want you to get alarmed, Maria,
but something just doesn't feel right. Do you mind if I look around Ray's
room?" 

 Maria nodded and took her up to Ray's room. Dief trotted close behind the
Detective. Maria opened Ray's bedroom door and let the two in, then stood
in the doorway. 

 While Dief sniffed around, Lynda examined the door. Nothing to indicate
any forced entry. "Did you hear anything unusual this morning?" she asked.


 "No," Maria answered. "Well, I heard a thump around five-thirty, but
didn't think much of it." 

 Lynda knitted her eyebrows, then continued her search. She went over to
the bedroom window and pulled back the curtains. That's when she noticed
one of the panes of glass was broken. She looked down and saw broken glass
on the floor. She knelt beside it as Dief came up to her, whining. In his
mouth was a piece of paper. 

 Lynda took it from his mouth, opened it up, and read it: 'Told you so'.
Same handwriting, same note. When she sniffed it, she could smell the same
cologne. "Where did you get this?" she asked. Dief looked toward the bed,
which was unmade. Lynda scratched him behind the ears. "Good boy." She
stood up and walked back over to Maria. "Maria, I don't want you to freak
out, but I think someone's kidnapped Ray." 

 "What?!" Maria shrieked. 

 "Shh!" Lynda hissed. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but Ray is
missing. So is Fraser." She sighed. "And probably my dad as well. Until I
know for certain, you can't let anyone know, especially your mother. I
don't want to worry her. I have to go. I'll keep you posted. Dief, come!" 

 Lynda quickly ran down the stairs with Dief, got Regan away from Maria's
kids in the living room, then left.  

* * * *  

 Lynda burst into the Squad Room with the wolves at her heels. Together,
they walked over to Welsh's office, and walked right in. Welsh was in the
middle of talking to Huey and Dewey about Lynda's previous case, so he
wasn't too thrilled about Lynda just barging in. 

 "Lynda, I assume you know how to knock, right?" Welsh asked annoyed.
"Just make a fist, hit it against the door." 

 "Sir, I'm sorry," Lynda answered. "But -" 

 "But I'm glad you're back," Welsh finished. "Dewey and Huey did a little
digging at the docks, and were able to find out the lake conditions at the
time around Baruko's death. A few math calculations later, we were able to
pinpoint the location around where Baruko's body was dumped. I want you
and your partners to go investigate." 

 "I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm going to have to refuse this case," Lynda
answered. "I already have one I'm working on." 

 "Really?" Welsh asked. "And what case is this?" 

 "The abduction of my partners." 

 "Excuse me?" Welsh knitted his eyebrows. "What do you mean 'abduction'?" 

 "Constable Fraser is missing from the Consulate," Lynda explained as she
pulled out the note. "The door was left slightly open when Inspector
Thatcher came into work. This was found on Fraser's desk, addressed to
me." She handed the note to her superior, who read it. 

 "What does 'Told you so' mean?" he asked. 

 "I wish I knew," Lynda answered. "This one was found on Ray's bed. His
bedroom window was broken. And I found one at Dad's apartment when I went
there before coming here. His door was slightly open." She dropped two
more notes on Welsh's desk. "All three of them are addressed to me. Same
note, same handwriting, same smell." 

 "Same smell?" Huey asked. 

 "Yeah," Lynda answered. "I detected a hint of cologne on all three of
them. Diefenbaker and I both agree we've smelled it before, but we can't
place it." 

 Welsh sighed. "Okay, if that's the case -" He was interrupted by the
ringing of his phone. He picked up the receiver. "Welsh?" He raised his
eyebrows. "Hold on a second." He handed the phone to Lynda. "For you." 

 "Hello?" Lynda asked. 

 "What wear red, and is black and blue?" a voice asked. "A Mountie who is
very dear to you." 

 "Who is this?" Lynda asked angrily. "Where's Fraser?" 

 "Oh, now don't get that way with me, Detective," the voice sneered. "The
Mountie is fine, just like his friends are . . . for now, anyway. I'll
call back in five minutes. Just wanted to make sure I got your attention."
Click. Lynda stared at the receiver, then handed it back to Welsh. 

 "Who was that?" Dewey asked. 

 "I don't know," Lynda answered. "But he's got them. All three of them. He
said he's going to be calling back in five minutes." 

 "Then, we'll wait for him," Welsh said firmly. Exactly five minutes
passed and the phone rang again. Welsh answered it. "Welsh . . . okay." He
transferred to the speaker phone. "Alright." 

 "You may be happy, singing a song, but then things may happen to go
completely wrong. It's all a part of the thing we call Life, that once in
awhile you may have a strife. Detective, you may think that you're tough,
but you'll cower like chicken when things get rough. And the Mountie, your
father, and, yes, even Ray, will die when their lives you won't be able to
save. But if you want to try then I have a game for you, it's called
'Prove It', and here is your first clue: 

This object when it's used, the user never sees, but the user uses it
around a bunch of maple trees." Click. 

 "What was that all about?" Dewey asked as Welsh hung up the phone. 

 "Classical cat-and-mouse game," Lynda answered. "To find Dad, Ray, and
Fraser, I have to find and solve the clues he leaves for me." She sat down
in a chair and sighed. "I just wish I knew who 'he' was." 

 "Who would have such a grudge against you?" Welsh asked. 

 "Someone who obviously knew how close I was to Dad, Ray, and Fraser,"
Lynda answered. She thought for a minute, then her eyes went wide with
terror. "Oh, no, it couldn't be." She stood up and bolted out of the
office. 

 Welsh looked at the Duck Boys, eyebrows raised. Lynda returned a few
minutes later with a printout. "Found something?" 

 "Oh, yeah," Lynda answered. "I think I know who took my partners." She
handed him the printout. "You three remember Christopher Xavier?" 

 "He was the one who competed for you for the Detective program," Dewey
said. 

 "Yeah, but he was arrested and put in jail," Huey added. "We were there,
remember?" 

 "I remember," Lynda folded her arms, "but according to his record, he was
released a couple of days ago. His lawyer found a loophole, and he was set
free." 

 "Okay," Welsh nodded as he read the file, "but that doesn't prove that
he's the kidnapper." 

 "Actually, it does," Lynda said. "When I was in the Academy, Xavier wore
the same type of cologne I smelled on the notes. And remember what he said
to me right after he was arrested? 'You're going to be sorry for what you
did to me, you hear; everything you care about will be taken away from
you'." 

 Lynda sighed before continuing. "Sir, it has to be him. There's no one
else who hates me that much . . . well, except James, but he's in prison.
I know, I checked. In fact, I checked on everyone who knows about my
relationship with Dad, Ray, and Fraser, and who would have motive, but
Xavier is all I come up with." 

 Welsh looked up from the printout. He glanced at the notes on his desk,
then at Lynda. "Okay, for the time being, we'll assume that it is Xavier
who took Kowalski, Vecchio, and the Mountie. Dewey, get these notes over
to Forensics, and see if they can pull any fingerprints on them." Dewey
nodded and took the offered notes. "Then, I want you , Huey, and Lynda to
find out what the answer to that clue is." 

 "It's a coffin, Sir," Lynda answered. 

 Everyone just stopped and stared at her. Finally, Welsh cleared his
throat. "How did you figure that out, Detective?" 

 "Simple deduction," Lynda replied. "When a person dies and is put into a
coffin, they use it, but don't see it because they're dead. So, the answer
is a coffin. As to the rest of the clue, we're probably going to have to
go to a funeral home or a cemetery, considering those are the only two
places coffins are used." 

 "Okay," Welsh nodded, clearly impressed. "Get to work. Move!" The three
Detectives left the office, accompanied by the two wolves. 

 "Pretty cool, Lynda," Huey smiled. "You are really acting like Fraser." 

 "Thanks, Jack," Lynda said. 

 "I'm going to get these notes down to Forensics," Dewey said. "I'll be
back with the fingerprints." He quickly left. 

 "I guess we're going to have to try and find this place ourselves," Lynda
said as she and the others walked over to her computer. Lynda sat in her
chair and began typing on her keyboard. "Okay, we know that we're looking
for a cemetery or a funeral home . . . most likely in Chicago or
surrounding area . . . and it has to do with maple trees." She typed all
the information into her computer, then let it search. 

 By the time Dewey returned with the fingerprints, the computer returned a
match, complete with address: Maple Tree Funeral Home on Milwaukee Avenue.
Lynda then scanned the fingerprints into her computer, then let the
computer search for matches. Out of all three notes, there were four sets
of the same prints: Lynda's, Dewey's, Welsh's, and Xavier's. The three
took the information back to Welsh. 

 "Okay," the Lieutenant answered after looking at all of it. "You three
get to over the that funeral home. I'll inform Inspector Thatcher of the
situation. Keep me informed." He pointed a finger at Lynda. "Watch it." 

 "Yes, Sir," Lynda nodded. The three officers quickly left the room.  

* * * *  

 "So, what's your plan?" Dewey asked from the backseat of Lynda's Chevy.
He was sitting in between the wolves, while Huey and Lynda were in the
front. Since it was rather cold outside, Lynda had the top up and the
heater going. 

 "We'll be calm about this," Lynda answered. "My instructor in the Academy
said you must never lose your cool under pressure. That's how the
criminals will get inside your mind and overpower you." 

 Lynda pulled the car into the parking lot of the Maple Tree Funeral Home.
The Detectives and wolves got out and walked to the front door. Lynda
knocked three times. "I'll do the talking." 

 The front door opened. A middle-aged man, wearing a business suit looked
at the five. "Yes?" 

 "Hi, my name is Detective Lynda Kowalski," Lynda smiled as she showed her
badge to the man. "Chicago Police." She nodded to Huey and Dewey.
"Detectives Huey and Dewey. We're investigating the abduction of three
other officers. Could we ask you a few questions?" 

 "I'm sorry," the man said briskly, "but I have things to attend to. Good
day." He started to shut the door. 

 Lynda had no time to be putting up with this kind of stuff. She thrust
her foot inside, blocking the door from closing. She stood tall and firm.
"Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough. We're with the police. The three
officers are my partners, and I would really appreciate it if you would
answer some questions for us. If you don't, we'll be happy to take you
down to Division and talk to you there. Which would you prefer?" 

 The man sighed, then let the group in. He eyed the animals with disdain.
"No dogs allowed." 

 "They're wolves," Lynda answered curtly. "And they're also my partners.
They go where I go. Got it?" The man nodded. "Now, what's your name?" 

 "Bryan McVeigh," the man answered. 

 "Are you the owner?" Huey asked. 

 "With my brother, yes," Bryan answered. 

 "Has anyone been by here today?" Dewey asked. "Someone about Detective
Kowalski's age?" 

 "I wouldn't know, but my brother would. He's been here all morning."
Bryan led the group into the back area. 

 "I thought you were going to be cool about this," Dewey whispered to
Lynda. 

 "I am cool," Lynda whispered back. "I haven't punched anyone, yet, have
I?" 

 "Hey, Mark," Bryan went over to a younger man, also in a business suit.
He was sitting at a desk, writing. "These Detectives are working on a case
and need to ask us some questions." 

 Mark stood up and smiled. "How can I help you?" He noticed how young
Lynda was. "You really a Detective? You look so young." 

 "Obviously he hasn't watched the news lately," Lynda said to Huey and
Dewey. 

 "Obviously," they answered. 

 "I'm Lynda Kowalski. The Mayor, the Governor, and the Superintendent have
started a new program, and I'm the first guinea pig. Your brother says you
were here all morning?" 

 "Yes," Mark nodded. 

 "Did you notice anyone around here? Anyone acting suspicious?" 

 "No, but I did have a young man come by asking to look at coffins," Mark
answered. "He was about your age, Detective. About five feet, ten inches
tall, brown bushy hair, brown eyes that slanted, and -" 

 "A big nose?" Lynda asked. 

 "Yeah," Mark answered, sounding surprised. "You know him?" 

 "Yup," Lynda nodded. "Vince Klein." She turned to Huey and Dewey. "We're
definitely on the right track if Klein was here." She turned back to Mark.
"Could we see the coffins he looked at?" 

 "Sure," Mark answered. He led them to the display of coffins. "He spent
about fifteen minutes in here, then suddenly left." 

 "Thanks," Lynda said. "Okay, group, spread out. Let's see what we can
find." Mark watched as they officers and wolves spread out and began
searching the coffins. After about five minutes, Regan began barking. They
others went over to the coffin he was at. 

 Lynda peered under it, then smiled. She reached under and pulled out a
piece of paper that was taped underneath. She opened it and read it. "It's
another clue." She petted Regan behind his ears. "Good boy, Regan." Regan
gave a doggy smile. 

 "What's it say?" Huey asked. 

 Lynda cleared her throat. "'Four men sat down to play, they played all
night 'till break of day. They played for gold and not for fun, with
separate scores for everyone. When they came to square accounts, they all
had made quite fair amounts. Can you the paradox explain, if no one lost,
how could all gain?'" 

 "Huh?" the Duck Boys looked baffled. 

 "That's impossible," Huey said. 

 "Yeah, how four people play a game, but none of them lose?" Dewey asked. 

 "Where did it say they played a game?" Lynda asked. "All it said was that
'four men sat down to play'. It didn't say they played a game." 

 "Well, if it wasn't a game, then what?" Huey asked. "What could four
people play and none of them lose?" 

 "Well, let's name things that people play," Lynda suggested. "There are
games . . ." 

 "And plays," Dewey added. 

 Huey looked disgusted. "Tom, you don't play plays. You act in plays." 

 "What about musicals?" Dewey retorted. "You know, you play music in the
musicals." 

 "That's it!" Lynda exclaimed. "Oh, Tom, I could just kiss you!" Dewey and
Huey raised their eyebrows. Lynda narrowed her eyes. "It's just an
expression, guys, grow up." 

 "So, what did I get right?" Dewey asked. 

 "That's the answer to the riddle," Lynda replied. "The four men played
music. It has to be. I mean, listen: 'with separate scores for everyone'.
A score is another name for music." 

 "So, what is our next clue going to be at some music place?" Huey asked. 

 "I guess," Lynda answered. 

 "Lynda, there are over a hundred businesses related to music in the
Chicago area," Dewey said. "We can't go investigate them all." 

 "Then we'll narrow down the search," Lynda replied. She looked back at
the note again. "Four men sat down to play . . .'." She closed her eyes,
murmuring. A few moments later, she smiled. "I think I got it. What's the
name for a group of four who play together?" 

 "A quartet," the Duck Boys answered. 

 "Right," Lynda nodded. "And what's the name of the only quartet that is
currently in Chicago?" She was met with blank stares. "The Orion String
Quartet." 

 "And you got that . . . how?" Huey asked. 

 "It says so right here, Jack: '*Four* men sat down to play'." 

 "That's amazing," Mark said as he came up to the group. "How did you
figure out all that stuff?" 

 "She was trained by a Mountie," Dewey answered. 

 "One of my partners," Lynda added. 

 "How could one of your partners be a Mountie?" Mark asked. 

 "Originally, he was just my father and another Detective's partner, but
when I became a Detective, he became my partner as well." 

 "Why is a Mountie in Chicago in the first place?" 

 "Fraser first came to Chicago on the trail of the killer of his father,
and for a lot a reasons that need no exploring at this juncture, he's
remained attached as Liaison with the Canadian Consulate," Lynda said
calmly as her group stood up. She pulled one of her business cards out and
handed it to Marty. "If you think of anything else, please don't hesitate
to call me." 

 "I won't," Marty answered. "Good luck in finding your partners." 

 "Thanks." The officers and wolves walked out of the funeral home and over
to Lynda's car. 

 "So, Lynda, where to now?" Dewey asked. 

 "How do you guys feel about taking in a little culture?" Lynda asked as
she pulled out her cell phone. She dialed the Station house. "Frannie? I -
hey, what's wrong? Oh, don't worry, we're doing everything we can, okay?
We'll bring him back in one piece, okay? I promise. Just breath slowly,
alright. Feel better? Good. I need to ask you a question, Frannie. Where
is the Orion String Quartet playing? Hmm, okay, thanks. I will. I
promise." She hung up. 

 "Welsh told her what's going on?" Huey asked. 

 "Bingo," Lynda replied, tucking her phone away. "I hope she'll be okay." 

 "She seemed to find that address quickly for being upset," Dewey said. 

 "She and Turnbull have tickets to see them tomorrow night," Lynda
retorted. "I know. When I was over at the Consulate earlier they mentioned
they were going to see them." 

 "So, where exactly are they?" 

 "At the Chicago Symphony Orchestra Hall and Symphony Center," Lynda
answered. "220 South Michigan Avenue. Let's go." As the five got in the
Chevy, they didn't see a man about Lynda's aga leaning against a grey
Lexus. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone.	

* * * *  

 Fraser wasn't sure how much time had passed since he was brought back
into this room and tied once again to this chair. He could still feel each
blow that hit him, both in the chest and face. He was sore, yes, but he
knew he had to get loose. He tugged at his bind, but it was no use. He
sighed. 

 "What?" Stanley asked from his chair nest to the Mountie. His face was
bruised, and his left eye was black and purple. 

 "I'm trying to get loose," Fraser replied. 

 "It's no use," Stanley replied, trying to wipe blood from his mouth. He
hated that coppery taste. Reminded him of dying people. And dying people
reminded him of dead people. "We're stuck here, okay? There's no way out."


 "There's always a way out." 

 "Yeah, there is a way out, Benny," Ray said from his chair on the other
side of the red-clad Mountie. His face was bruised and his nose was
bleeding slightly. "The only way we're leaving is in body bags." 

 "Don't be so negative, Ray. We do have one hope left." 

 "What?" the Detectives asked. 

 "Lynda." 

 Stanley snorted. "She probably hates us right now, and doesn't even
notice that we're missing." 

 "She doesn't hate any of you," Fraser said. 

 "And how do you know that?" Ray asked. "You saw how we acted around her
yesterday. Anyone would hate us for doing that to them." 

 "She told me last night before I left Division . . . well, she didn't
exactly say it directly, but-" 

 "Fraser, what's the point?" Stanley interrupted. 

 "The point is, Lynda is not mad at you, either of you. She was just
extremely confused and hurt why you two were mad at her." 

 "So, you think she's out there looking for us?" Ray asked. 

 "Oh, I'm betting on it," a new voice answered. The three looked up to see
their abductor enter the room from the only door. 

 "What do you mean, Xavier?" Stanley sneered. 

 "Your daughter, Detective, is out there looking for you. I've been
leaving clues for her to follow. Now, whether or not she can solve them,
find you three in time, and stay alive is up to her." 

 "Lynda can solve anything you give her," Fraser said firmly. 

 "Yeah," the Detectives agreed. 

 "I hope so," Xavier said. His cell phone started ringing. He pulled it
out of his black sports jacket. "What?" He smiled. "Good. Keep an eye on
them. Let me know when they get to you know where." He hung up his phone
and tucked it away. "Well, it seems like Detective Lynda Kowalski has
solved her first clue." 

 "And what would that be?" Stanley asked. 

 "Oh, just 'this object when it's used, the user never sees, but the user
uses it around a bunch of maple trees'. Can you guess where the next clue
would be based on that information?" 

 "Maple Tree Funeral Home on Milwaukee Avenue," Fraser replied. "Very
clever." 

 "I do try," Xavier smiled. 

 "One question," Ray said. "Why are you doing this? If you have a grudge
against Lynda, why take us? Why not take her?" 

 Stanley glared at his partner. "You would rather him take Lynda, Ray? I
can't believe you are so selfish." 

 "I wouldn't want him to take Lynda," Ray retorted. "I'm just curious." 

 "Lynda now knows what it's like to lose everything that means the most to
her," Xavier's smiled faded. "When she took my place to become the
youngest Detective in Chicago, she took away the plans I had made." 

 "What plans?" Stanley asked. "You, the leader of the Silver Dragons,
would have known what the police would be doing at all times." 

 "And therefore alerted your gang, keeping them safe," Fraser added. 

 "As a result, the Silver Dragons would have taken over the underworld of
the city," Ray finished. "And no one would be the wiser." 

 Xavier's face turned beet red. "Your partner is going to pay for what she
did to me." 

 "The only one who's going to pay for anything is you," Stanley said. "You
kidnapped two Chicago officers and a Canadian Mountie. Do you think you're
going to get away with it?" 

 "Do you know what they'll do to you?" Ray asked. "Do you know what Lynda
will do to you when she finds you?" 

 "Yeah, you kidnapped her father, her teacher, and her best friend,"
Stanley added. "She will not be happy to see that you roughed us up. You
heard of 'fury in a woman's scorn'? That's nothing compared to what
Lynda's going to do to you." 

 "SHUT UP!" Xavier screamed before leaving the room. He slammed the door
shut behind him. Ray and Stanley grinned at each other. Fraser looked less
amused. 

 "Was it really wise to make him mad like that?" Fraser asked. 

 "Oh, come on, Fraser," Stanley said. "Felt good to egg him like that
after what he did to us." 

 "Yeah, lighten up, Benny. What's the worse he could do to us?" 

 "Well, he could kill us," Fraser answered. "But I don't think that's the
worse he could do to us." 

 "Then what *is* the worst?" Stanley asked. 

 "He could kill Lynda." 

 The three sat in silence, the atmosphere of joking long gone.	

* * * *  

 "Look, I don't care who you say you are, you're not coming in." 

 "Three lives are at stake," Lynda shouted at the security guard blocking
the entrance to the Symphony Center. "We need to get in here." 

 "I have my orders," the security guard folded his arms and stood firm. 

 "And we have ours," Lynda glared. She looked down at the wolves. "Dief,
Regan, hold him." The wolves surrounded the security guard. They growled,
their teeth showing and fur bristling. The young Detective nodded to Dewey
and Huey. "Come on." The three raced off to the entrance, leaving the
wolves with the guard. 

 "I cannot believe you did that," Huey said one they were inside the
lobby. 

 "The lives of my partners are at stake, Jack," Lynda said looking around.
"I'd have shot that guard if it meant bringing them back safe." Huey
raised his eyebrows. "Besides, as long as he doesn't make any sudden moves
or provoke them, he'll be fine." 

 "You're joking, right?" 

 "No, Tom. Fraser told me everything about a wolf's behavior, so I know
for certain -" 

 "I meant about shooting the guard." 

 "Oh . . . yeah, of course. I wouldn't shoot anyone. Not unless my life or
the lives of my partners and friends depended on it." She sighed. "Let's
try to find out where that clue could be." 

 "How about the auditorium?" Dewey suggested. 

 "Okay," Lynda agreed. The three ran to the nearest entrance to the
auditorium and opened the door. Lynda groaned. There were about five
hundred seats in the place. She sighed. "Okay, you two, let's split up.
It's only a matter of time before other officers find the guard and find
out we're here." The three Detectives went down a separate row, looking at
and under seats for anything unusual. 

 They were halfway down to the stage when four guys came onto the stage,
talking and laughing. They were each holding a separate instrument case.
Nevertheless, the Detectives drew their weapons. 

 "Chicago Police!" Lynda shouted. "Put your hands where we can see them!
All four of you! Now!" The four men slowly put their hands in the air.
"Good. Now, who are you?" 

 "We're the Orion String Quartet," one answered nervously. "Daniel
Phillips. This is my brother Todd, Steven Tenembom, and Timothy Eddy. We
didn't do anything wrong." 

 Lynda eyed them carefully, then slowly put her gun away. "Okay, sorry if
we seemed jumpy, but we're in the middle of an investigation." 

 "Are you, by any chance, Lynda Kowalski?" Todd Philips asked. 

 Lynda raised her eyebrows. "Depends. Why?" 

 Todd reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small note. "Some guy
about your age came in this morning about three hours ago and gave me
this. He said to give it to a young woman by your description, answering
to the name of Lynda Kowalski." 

 While Dewey and Huey kept their guns trained on the four, Lynda slowly
walked up to Todd. He handed her the piece of paper. Lynda took it, then
walked back to the two Detectives. It was only until she was at their
sides did they lower their guns. 

 "What's it say?" Huey asked as he and his partner put their guns away. 

 Lynda unfolded the piece of paper. "'Go to a place to have some fun. But
for you, Detective, your terror's just begun. So many attractions, so much
to do, so many places to hide the next clue. Here's a hint: look on the
wheel that sits on a pier. To find the next clue, you need to look here'."
She looked at Todd. "Who gave this to you?" 

 "I don't know," Todd answered. "I've never seen him before in my life." 

 "Can you describe him?" Dewey asked. 

 "Five feet, ten, bushy brown hair, brown eyes, and a big nose," Todd
answered. 

 The three Detectives looked at each other. "Klein," they said in unison. 

 "Thank you for your help," Lynda said, handing Todd one of her cards. "If
you remember anything else, please give me a call." 

 "Just what is going on?" Steven asked. 

 "An old adversary kidnapped my partners," Lynda answered. "He's leaving
clues for me to follow to see if I'm good as a Detective as he could have
been. We were both competing for the same thing. I won, he didn't take it
too well." 

 "Well, good luck," Timothy replied. 

 "Thanks," Lynda smiled slightly. "And good luck tomorrow night." She left
the auditorium with Dewey and Huey. 

 "So, where are we off to now?" Dewey asked once they were back in the
lobby. 

 Lynda reread the note. "Somewhere on the lake . . . a pier, definitely."
She sighed, thinking. Then, her eyes widened as she smiled. "Navy Pier!
The Ferris Wheel. It's the only possible answer." Loud barking caught the
three's attention. "Oh, shoot! Dief and Regan!" 

 Lynda bolted out of the lobby where she had left the wolves with the
guard. They were still there, but now they were surrounded by five
security guards. They all had their guns drawn. Lynda ran up and pushed
them out of the way. "Chicago Police. Do not shoot them!" 

 "You're under arrest," one security guard advanced toward Lynda. 

 "For what?" Lynda put her hands on her hips. She stood tall. "If anyone
is going to be doing any arresting, it will be me arresting you." 

 "What?!" the security guard started laughing. "And just who do you think
you are, little girl?" 

 "Oh, you shouldn't have said that," Huey shook his head. 

 "You're in for it now," Dewey added. 

 Lynda whipped out her badge and put it directly in the guard's face.
"Detective Lynda Kowalski, District 27 Police Department. I'm here
investigating the kidnaping of three officers, all of which happen to be
my partners." The laughing ceased. Lynda noticed the officer's nameplate.
"Now, Officer Winslow, if you would be so kind as to step away from my
wolves." 

 Winslow nodded, and the security guards backed away slowly. Lynda nodded.
"It's good to see you can obey orders. Now, I would like each and every
one of your badge numbers and superiors' names." 

 "Oh, come on," Winslow said. "Please don't turn us in." 

 "Maybe I will, maybe I won't," Lynda said curtly. The guards quickly gave
her the information. "Thank you." Lynda walked away, Dief and Regan
trotting beside her. Dewey and Huey soon followed. Soon, the five were in
the Chevy on their way to Navy Pier.  

* * * *  

 Welsh was not in a good mood. First, two of his Detectives were being
held who knows where. Lynda, Huey, and Dewey were out investigating it,
but hadn't bothered to check in - in which an hour had passed. Not only
that, he had to deal with frantic Francesca, who couldn't seem to do her
job five minutes without bursting into tears. Welsh was almost regretting
telling her. 

 There was a knock on his door. He looked up from some papers on his desk.
"Yes?" 

 Thatcher opened the door and walked in. "Any word?" 

 "None, Inspector," Welsh answered wearily. Not only did he have Francesca
to deal with, but Thatcher and Turnbull had decided to leave the Consulate
and plant themselves inside the Squad Room. Thatcher had spent the time
calling Ottawa about the situation, while Turnbull comforted Francesca. 

 "Keep me informed," Thatcher said briskly for the tenth time before
leaving. 

 Welsh leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. He sighed, making
sure he hadn't made a mistake in letting Lynda be in charge of this case.
He knew how she felt about each of her three partners, and how they felt
about her, despite the argument the day before. It wasn't that he thought
she couldn't handle herself. No, the Lieutenant just hoped that she
wouldn't let her emotions get in the way of her doing her job. 

 The ringing of his phone jarred him from his thoughts. He quickly
answered it. "Welsh." 

 "Just checking in, Sir," Lynda said. 

 "What's going on, Detective?" 

 "Not much. Just solved the first two clues, and we're on our way to Navy
Pier. That's where the third clue is. How are things at Division?" 

 "Okay," Welsh lied. "Any trouble on your end?" 

 "No," Lynda lied. "I'll check back in an hour." 

 "Okay," Welsh said before hanging up. There was another knock at his
door. "Yes?" 

 "There are some people from the FBI," Francesca came in sniffling. She
dabbed at her eyes, which were red and puffy. 

 "Great," Welsh muttered under his breath. "That's just what I need." He
sighed. "Send them in." 

 Francesca nodded and left the office. A few minutes later, Special Agents
Ford, Derek Laramie, and Todd Travis walked in. They were all dressed in
business suits. 

 "Lieutenant, just when were you going to tell us?" Ford asked. 

 "About what?" Welsh asked. 

 "The disappearance of Detectives Vecchio and Kowalski, and Constable
Fraser," Ford answered. "We received a phone call from Ottawa an hour ago,
asking us to work with the Chicago Police into finding Fraser." 

 "Well, your help is not needed," Welsh said. "Detectives Kowalski, Huey,
and Dewey are already on the case." 

 "Isn't this case a little too important for Lynda to be taking on?"
Travis asked. 

 "This case is perfect for her," Welsh retorted. "Lynda figured out who
kidnapped Fraser and my Detectives. And she's already solved two of the
clues." 

 "What clues?" Derek asked. "And who are we talking about?" 

 Welsh dropped a manila folder on his desk. "Christopher Xavier. He was in
Lynda's class at the Academy. They were both competing for the chance to
take part in the program Lynda is currently in. Xavier won, but Lynda
discovered he had been doing it through cheating and manipulation. After
he was arrested and Lynda took his place, he vowed one day to get even." 

 Derek picked up the file and opened it, looking at the records and
picture of Xavier. "And he's doing it this way, Lieutenant?" 

 Welsh nodded. "He's left clues all over the city for Lynda to find and
solve. Apparently, they'll eventually lead us to where Xavier and the
others are. Hopefully." 

 "Where is she now?" Ford demanded. 

 "Who knows?" Welsh lied. He didn't want the FBI involved. "She just
called me to check in, saying she's found nothing." 

 Ford looked at Welsh, deciding whether or not to believe him. "Fine, but
when she calls again, we want to know where she is. Kidnaping is a federal
investigation." 

 "Whatever," Welsh replied as he stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I
have a Division to run." He walked past the Agents as he stepped out of
his office. His eyes met Derek's briefly. The young Agent gave him a look,
silently say he knew that Welsh was lying. He nodded slightly, 

understanding why Welsh hadn't said anything. Welsh, nodded back.  

* * * *  

 Lynda hugged her black coat closer around her as she and the others got
out of her car, which was parked in the parking lot of Navy Pier. She was
glad that she had remembered to grab that, along with her gloves and
scarf, considering how cold it was that day. The wind blew and she felt
goose bumps along her arms. Regan and Dief looked up at her whining.
"What?" she asked. "Don't tell me you're cold, okay? You're both wolves,
for Pete's sake. You like cold weather." 

 "How are we going to get in?" Dewey asked as they approached the front
gate of Chicago's number one attraction. The entire park was closed
because of the cold and windy weather. 

 "Yeah, no one's here," Huey added. 

 Lynda scanned the metal gate that prevented them from walking into the
park. It was about six feet in height. Piece of cake, she thought. Taking
in a deep breath, she jumped on the fence and began climbing. When she
reached the top, she jumped off, landing on the other side. She looked
back. That's how," she answered. "You coming or not?" 

 Dewey and Huey looked at each other before jumping onto the fence. They
weren't nearly as agile as Lynda was, but managed to scale the fence in
less than a minute. Dief and Regan looked slightly peeved at the thought
of being left behind. They growled their disdain. 

 "Guys, calm down," Lynda said. "Just jump over, okay? You both have been
trained." The wolves whined. "Okay, then just stay here." She walked off
with the other Detectives. 

 "You're really going to leave them?" Dewey asked as the three walked to
the Ferris 

wheel. 

 Lynda only smiled. A few moments later, the wolves were trotting beside
them. "See?" Lynda grinned at the wolves. "All you needed was a little
incentive." The rest of the way to the Ferris wheel was in silent. When
they got there, they looked up. 

 Above them towered the 150-foot Ferris wheel, with 40 gondolas seating
six passengers each. Lynda quickly calculated that 240 people could ride
at one time. "Well," she sighed. "Let's get to work." 

 "And just how do we check a Ferris wheel?" Huey asked. "Where on earth
would this clue be?" 

 Lynda looked up, her eyes shielded by her sunglasses. Her eyes focused on
an object near the top of the highest gondola. A red flag was blowing in
the wind. She pointed. "There." 

 "He is not making this easy for us, is he?" Dewey asked. 

 "You two don't have to be here," Lynda said. 

 "Oh, yes we do," Dewey replied. "Welsh ordered us to come here." He
looked up. "Just how do we get it?" 

 Lynda hurried over to the controls, and looked at them. They were
smashed, unable to operate. "Great, just great. There goes that idea."
Lynda looked up one last time. "I'll be right back." She took off her
coat, handed it to Dewey, ran to the base of the Ferris wheel, and began
climbing it. 

 "Lynda, get down!" Dewey shouted. "You'll kill yourself." 

 "I'll be fine," Lynda said. Dewey and Huey looked at each other, then
just watched her, knowing there was nothing they could do. 

 Twelve years of climbing trees in her backyard made climbing among the
steel poles and wires easy for the young Detective, not to mention the
grip from her gloves and shoes. Nevertheless, Lynda was a little
concerned. The strong winds were making the gondolas rock back and forth.
One missed bumping into Lynda by inches. Despite that, Lynda reached the
highest gondola in less than five minutes. 

 She hopped in it, then stood for a minute, catching her breath. She
looked around, then gasped in amazement. The entire city spread out before
her. Lynda smiled. It was beautiful, but she had other obligations. Maybe
another time. 

 Lynda looked up to where the red flag was, ten feet above her. Attached
to the red flag was a white envelope. Lynda carefully stood on the edge
and tried to reach the note, but the rocking of the gondola was throwing
her off balance. She sighed, then looked at the flag. It was attached to a
pole that was attached near the gondola, within five feet from Lynda.
Lynda carefully reached over the side and grabbed the pole. 

 Just then, a big gust of wind rammed into the gondola, rocking it hard.
Lynda was unprepared for this and slipped out. Luckily, she still gripped
the pole, but now she was hanging 150 feet in mid-air. Lynda took a deep
breath and looked up. Even though the pole hadn't broke, it was slowly
giving way under her weight. She knew it was only a matter of time before
it broke 

apart, sending her falling into the steel framework of the Ferris wheel. 

 Acting quickly, she removed her scarf from around her neck with her right
hand, while holding onto the pole with her left hand. Using it like
Indiana Jones did his whip, she wrapped part of her scarf around a nearby
- and stronger - main pole, just as the pole broke off. Lynda held onto
the scarf as she fell. 

 The scarf held under her weight as she swung underneath the pole and
landed on another main pole. Lynda held onto both the pole and the scarf
while she caught her breath. When Lynda was able to breathe normally
again, she grabbed the flag off the pole and stuffed it in her Armani
jacket. Then she unwrapped her scarf from the pole and put it back around
her neck. After saving her life, that scarf was going to be staying with
her from now on. 

 Slowly and carefully, Lynda began climbing down. As soon as her feet
firmly touched the solid ground, she collapsed to the ground, her energy
spent. She put her head down and closed her eyes. 

 "Hey, you okay?" Dewey asked as he and Huey knelt beside her. Dewey put
the coat over her shoulders. Dief and Regan both whined, looking
concerned. 

 "Yeah, I just need a moment to recover," Lynda sighed. 

 "What made you think of using your scarf?" Huey asked. 

 "The one thing I've learned from being around Dad, Ray, and Fraser for so
long is that sooner or later, in some crisis, you're going to have to
improvise." She chuckled softly. "I'm just glad it worked." 

 "So, what's the next clue say?" 

 Lynda reached into her pocket, pulled out the note, and read it out loud.
"'To find the next clue you must go to the top. Until you can't go any
higher, and then you must stop. Clue Number Five is on the highest point
in the city. But be careful, don't fall . . . or it won't be pretty'." 

 "Okay . . ." Dewey said slowly. "That means we're going . . . where?" 

 "The Sears Tower," Huey said quickly. "It's the tallest point in the
world, as well as the highest building in Chicago." 

 Lynda nodded and stood up. "Then let's go." 

 "Whoa, I don't think you should, Lynda," Dewey said, stopping the young
Detective. 

"You just nearly fell off a Ferris wheel." 

 "Nearly, but didn't, Tom," Lynda retorted. "Xavier wants me to get these
clues. The only reason that you and Jack are here is because Welsh told
you to come. Now, I don't mind that at all, but this is my case, and I am
going, okay? Besides, my father and my partners are out 

there. You'd be doing the same thing if Jack was in their position. Now,
let's go." 

 Lynda marched away with Regan and Dief, leaving the two Detectives to
look at each other. They sighed, knowing better than to argue with her,
then walked quickly to catch up with the three.  

* * * *  

 Stanley was hungry. He hadn't eaten since last night, when he at that
frozen burrito at midnight. It had been almost fifteen hours since he ate
anything . . . or drank anything for that matter. His stomach growled
loudly. 

 "Got an animal in your shirt?" Ray asked sarcastically. 

 "I'm hungry," Stanley answered irritably. "It's been a long time since I
ate or drank anything." 

 "That goes for all of us," Fraser answered calmly. 

 "Yeah, but you're used to it," Ray retorted. "You could probably go for
an entire year before drinking or eating anything, Fraser." 

 "Now, that's biologically impossible, Ray," Fraser said. "The most
healthiest of humans can only survive without food for a month, without
water for five days. Of course, there are the exceptions. For instances, I
remember in 1986 this one Inuit man near Tuktoyaktuk - his 

name was Evan - and he was trapped in the crevasses of a mountain for over
one month. He was found with -" He paused. 

 "What?" Ray interrupted. 

 "I just realized you might not want to hear the rest of this story,"
Fraser said. 

 "Yes, we do," Ray said firmly. 

 "No, you'll get nauseous." 

 "Fraser, tell us," Stanley demanded. 

 "I really don't think -" 

 "Fraser!" both Detectives shouted. 

 "Okay, okay," Fraser gave in. "Well, he never got dehydrated because he
would eat lots of snow." 

 "And what else did he eat?" Stanley asked. 

 "Well . . . let's just say after they found him," Fraser explained, "he
was given the nickname 'Two-toed Evan." 

 "Oh, yuck, that is disgusting!" Ray's face distorted. 

 Stanley looked like he was ready to throw up. "Fraser, I am not going to
eat my toes. I'll eat your Stetson before that happens." 

 "Oh, I don't think we'll have to worry about eating toes or hats,
Stanley. I'm sure Lynda will find us before we have to resort to
cannibalism." 

 "I think not," Xavier replied as he walked into the room. All three men
looked up at him. 

 "And what makes you think that?" Stanley asked angrily. 

 "Well, Detective," Xavier replied smugly, "I've made getting the clues a
tad harder than just solving them. Getting to them is half the fun . . .
well, fun for me. Dangerous for your daughter." 

 "How so?" Fraser asked. 

 "The third clue is atop the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier," Xavier explained.
"And the controls are disabled, so the only way to get the clue would be
to climb up and get it. And considering how cold and windy it is today . .
. well, let's just say it's a good guess that Lynda is probably a gooey
mess on the ground." 

 His cell phone rang. "Oh, time to see if I'm right." He answered it on
the second ring. "Yes?" Xavier's eyebrows shot up as his face turned red.
"She did what?! How?" He sighed. "Very well. Get her at the next
location." He angrily hung up and put his phone in his jacket. 

 "Problems?" Ray asked amusingly. 

 "Your partner is a very resourceful person," Xavier sneered. "She fell
off of one of the gondolas, but saved herself from falling to her death by
using her scarf as a rope." He looked at Fraser. "I wonder who could have
taught her that?" 

 "I taught Lynda how to be able to look at any situation, and improvise
with the things she has at her disposal," Fraser said proudly. "That is
what makes her a better Detective and person than you." 

 "Lynda is nowhere near as good as I am," Xavier growled. "She will not
make it pass the next clue. I've seen to that." 

 "Where is the next clue?" Ray asked. 

 "At the Sears Tower. A dangerous place to be if something were happen."
Xavier left the three. 

 Stanley sighed. "I hope she's okay." 

 "I'm sure she's fine," Fraser assured him. "I have confidence in her
abilities."  

* * * *  

 "Whoa, what a nice view," Dewey said as the three looked out over the
Skydeck of the Sears Tower. The wolves had been ordered to stay in the car
by Lynda, seeing how she wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible
during this investigation, and wolves would definitely hinder that. 

 "It is nice, isn't it? Lynda remarked as she looked around the deck. Even
though it was a cold, windy January day, many people had come to enjoy the
terrific view. "They say on a clear day like today, you can see forty to
fifty miles. But we have other things to attend to. We 

obviously need to get to the top of the building, and this is most
certainly not it." The three looked around. 

 Dewey noticed an elevator with buttons marking the direction of up.
"Let's try that elevator." 

 The Detectives walked over, but a security officer stepped in front of
them. "The public is not allowed to go any higher." 

 "We're not the public," Lynda said. She took out her badge and ID. "We're
the police, and we need to get to the top of the building. Three other
officers' lives depend on it." 

 "You're too young to be a cop," the security guard said. 

 "Not according to the Mayor, the Governor, and the Superintendent, Bob,"
another voice spoke up. Everyone turned to see another man walk up to
them. He was in his early fifties, dressed in a dark business suit, with
gray hair and a warm smile. "You must be Detective Lynda 

Kowalski." 

 "Yeah," Lynda answered, slightly surprised. "How did you know that? And
who are you?" 

 "My name is Larry Hindlebrawn," the man answered. "I'm the CEO of
TrizecHahn Office Properties, Inc. I own the Sears Tower. As to how I know
who you are, I like to keep current with the events of the city I live
in." He nodded to Bob. "It's okay, Bob. She is a legitimate 

officer of the law." He turned back to Lynda and the others. "So, what is
this about three officers' lives are at stake?" 

 "To put it in a nutshell, Mr. Hindlebrawn," Lynda explained, "my partners
were kidnapped by someone who wants to take revenge against me for my part
in putting him behind bars a couple of months ago. He's leaving clues
around the city for me to find, and this is the latest 

one, pointing that the next clue is at the top of this building." She
handed the fourth clue from her pocket to Hindlebrawn, who took it and
read it silently. 

 "Okay," he said, giving her the note back after he was done. "I'll
personally escort you three myself." He pushed the elevator button.
Quickly, the elevator doors opened, and the CEO and three Detectives were
soon on their way up. They got off at the top floor, then climbed some
stairs until they were on the roof of the Sears Tower. The wind was
blowing fiercely at such a high altitude. Everyone hugged their coats
closer around them. 

 "Now what?" Dewey asked, having to raise his voice slightly over the
wind. 

 Lynda took the note out of her pocket, then reread it. "We're at the
highest point in the city. Let's look around." 

 "Actually, you're not at the highest point, Detective," the CEO spoke up.
"The antennas are the highest points on the building." Everyone looked up
at the twin antennas atop the building. 

 Lynda groaned. She did not want to do anymore climbing today after her
experience at Navy Pier. "How tall are they?" 

 "Two hundred and fifty-three feet tall," Hindlebrawn answered. 

 "Lynda, we'll do the climbing this time," Huey said. "You stay here." 

 "Be careful," she said to the Duck Boys. 

 They left and each went to one antenna. They climbed carefully up the
ladders that were attached to the antennas. It took them almost fifteen
minutes, but they finally reached the top. It was Huey who found the clue
on his pole. He tucked it in his coat, then began making his way 

down. Dewey followed his lead. 

 Down on the ground, Lynda and Hindlebrawn didn't notice the five men
sneaking up behind them. One hit the CEO over the head and knocked him
out. Lynda whirled around just in time to duck a punch. The five
surrounded her, ready to take her out. 

 Lynda assumed a fighting stance. "If this was another time, then it could
be slightly amusing, but my three partners are missing, so why don't you
give up?" The five just growled and each pulled out a different weapon,
but no guns. Lynda rolled her eyes. "Okay, who wants 

to dance first?" 

 The five, being stupid, decided to charge her at one time. Not only did
they succeed in getting in each other's way, but they also succeeded in
getting knocked unconscious by the young Detective. By the time that Dewey
and Huey joined her, Lynda had already called for some patrol cars and an
ambulance. 

 "Wow, Lynda, that was pretty cool," Huey smiled. 

 "Thanks," Lynda said as she knelt beside Hindlebrawn. She felt for a
pulse. Strong and steady. She stood up. "So, what's the next clue say?" 

 Huey took the note from his pocket and read it out loud. "'The tortoise
beat this animal in a simple little race. Then the tortoise went to leave
for a very different place. He didn't leave by bus, by car, or on a train.
This turtle took his little trip by riding on a plane'." He looked up.
"What does that mean?" 

 "The Tortoise and The Hare," Lynda remarked. "One of Aesop's fables." She
thought about that for a moment, then smiled. "We're going to the
airport." 

 "Which one?" Huey asked. 

 "O'Hare," Lynda answered. "Get it? It's a double meaning." 

 Dewey groaned. "Oh, that is horrible." 

 "Horrible, yes," Lynda agreed. "But that's the answer." The three were
interrupted by the sound of officers running onto the roof. Soon, a
paramedic team joined them. Soon after that, Welsh and the FBI. 

 "How did you find us?" Huey asked. 

 "The dispatch said that a security guard reported being assaulted by five
men who went to the roof," Welsh explained. "The guard mentioned that
Lynda went up there." He noticed the five men who were being handcuffed.
"And I can tell you were, Detective." 

 "I do my best, Sir," Lynda folded her arms over her chest. 

 "Any luck with finding the others?" 

 Lynda shook her head. "We came up here after finding the last clue at the
top of the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier, but we've come up empty-handed."
Without looking at them, Lynda knew that Dewey and Huey were keeping
quiet, knowing why she was lying. 

 Welsh looked at the young Detective, eyebrows raised. He knew she was
lying, and he knew why. Like himself, Lynda did not want the FBI involved.
He also knew that she probably didn't want Huey and Dewey tagging along
with her considering the case, but she would tolerate them better than the
others. He nodded. "Okay. So what do you suggest now?" 

 "I suggest we spread out and look for the clue," Ford interrupted. He
turned to Lynda. "What does it look like?" 

 "A piece of white folded up paper," Lynda answered. Ford nodded and left
the group with Travis in tow. 

 Derek stayed behind, smiling slightly. "Good move, Lynda." 

 "What do you want, Derek?" 

 "Oh, a million dollars, a house in the country," Derek ticked off on his
fingers, "and a little information as to what is going on." 

 "You're the FBI," Lynda replied curtly. "You figure it out." 

 Derek frowned. "Hey, I'm trying to be nice here. You don't have to go
biting my head off." He shook his head. "I still can't believe you're
carrying a grudge for something that happened over five months ago." 

 "You used me!" Lynda shouted, causing everything and everyone to stop in
their tracks. "You just expect me to forget that?" 

 "No, but I expect you to stop whining about it every time we meet." 

 Lynda slapped him across the face. Derek, as well as everyone else looked
stunned. Lynda took a deep breath before walking to the staircase that led
down. Derek, rubbing his cheek, left the officers and went over to Ford
and Travis. 

 "Interesting," Welsh said. He sighed. "That little outburst may cause
Lynda to be removed from this case." 

 "Sir, you know even wild horses won't drag her away," Huey said. "Her
partners are missing." 

 "I know," Welsh said. "I'll keep her on this case, unless something else
happens that causes me to doubt her abilities. Another incident like that
one, for instance." 

 "And what about them?" Dewey asked, nodding to the FBI Agents. 

 "Where does the clue lead to?" 

 "O'Hare," Huey answered. "You knew?" 

 "About Lynda lying, yes," Welsh answered. "She doesn't want the FBI on
this case no more than I do." He sighed. "I'll keep them running around in
circles as long as I can. You two get going. And be careful." The
Detectives left. Welsh sighed. He hoped this case would 

be wrapped up soon. He was starting to get a headache.	

* * * *  

 Lynda was sitting in her car when Dewey and Huey walked out of the
building and got in the car. Silently, they drove off toward the airport. 

 "So, you're still mad at him?" Dewey asked from the back seat, between
the wolves. 

 "What do you think?" Lynda replied angrily. She shook her head, her anger
softening. "Sorry, Tom." She sighed. "Yeah, I guess I am. But I have every
right to." Regan barked his confusion. "I'll explain later." 

 "What's with him?" Huey asked. 

 "He's not familiar with what I went through with Derek," Lynda said. "But
I don't feel like explaining it now." She sighed. "We have to find out
where in O'Hare we need to go. Could you re-read that clue again, Jack?" 

 Huey looked at the piece of paper he had in his hands. "'The tortoise
beat this animal in a simple little race. Then the tortoise went to leave
for a very different place. He didn't leave by bus, by car, or on a train.
This turtle took his little trip by riding on a plane'." 

 "Okay," Lynda nodded. "I think I know where we're going to have to go." 

 "Where?" the Duck Boys answered. 

 "Did you watch the news this past week? A rare species of tortoise from
the Lincoln Park Zoo is being sent to the Galapagos Islands for a
scientific study. It leaves today at twelve forty-five." She glanced at
her radio clock. "And we've only got thirty minutes." She pressed her foot
down on the accelerator and sped off toward the airport.  

* * * *  

 Considering the slick conditions of the roads, and how busy the streets
were to begin with, it was a miracle that they made it to O'Hare in twenty
minutes. After Lynda pulled her car beside the terminal, the five got out
and ran inside. 

 "Police!" Lynda shouted to an attendant as they ran by. She flashed her
badge. "Where is the tortoise leaving from?" 

 "A cargo plane," the attendant shouted back. "Over in Hanger Three." 

 The five ran down the terminal, rushing past people and luggage. They
turned a corner and saw a security checkpoint. 

 "Now what?" Huey said as they continued to run. 

 "Keep running," Lynda replied. She darted past the guard. 

 "Hey!" the guard shouted. "Get back here!" Dewey, Huey, and the wolves
managed to slip by him as well. The guard took after them, while alerting
other officers of the 'security breech'. Lynda and the others ran until
they got to hanger three. But the plane was already taxiing down toward
the runway. 

 "Won't have to exercise for a month by the time this thing is over with,"
Lynda commented as she took in a deep breath, then ran after the plane.
The wolves followed after her. "Stop! Police!" 

 "She's crazy," Huey said to his partner. "Unpredictable." 

 "Yeah, but at least you know to expect the unexpected," Dewey replied. 

 "Hold it right there! Put your hands where we can see them!" Dewey and
Huey did as they were told. "Now slowly turn around." The two Detectives
turned around and saw twelve guards standing with guns pointed right at
them. 

 Lynda had managed to run in front of the plane, but was still unable to
stop it. "This is ridiculous," she panted. She looked at the plane. "Come
on you, stupid piece of flying metal. Turn your engines off and STOP!"
Suddenly, the plane's engines stopped running and came to a complete stop
on the runway. Lynda skidded to a halt, then look down at her furry
friends, eyebrows raised and smiling. "Hey, it worked." 

 She barely had time to breath before three security guards came running
up. They had guns in their hands, pointed straight at her. She held up her
hands. "Okay, you can put your guns down. I'm a cop." 

 "Show some ID!" one shouted. Lynda carefully reached into her Armani
jacket and pulled out her badge and identification. One guard slowly
approached her and read it while the other two kept their guns on Lynda.
The guard raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Well, I'll be." He smiled at
Lynda. "So, you're Lynda Kowalski?" 

 "Yeah, that's me," Lynda smiled. 

 The guard motioned for the others to put their guns up. "It's okay. It's
Detective Lynda Kowalski. You know, from the news?" The two guards put
their guns away, then came over to Lynda. "So, what are you doing here?" 

 "Investigating a triple kidnaping," Lynda explained. "I need to get on
that cargo plane with the tortoise." 

 The guard looked confused, but nodded. "Okay." He grabbed his walkie
talkie and began talking with the control tower. 

 "Nice dogs," another guard pointed at Dief and Regan. 

 "They're wolves, actually," Lynda explained. "But they're pretty
friendly." She scratched behind the wolves' ears. 

 The first guard came back, smiling. "Well, Detective, you have been given
permission to search the plane, but only on one condition." 

 "What's that?" Lynda asked. 

 The guard held out a piece of paper and a pen. "Could I get your
autograph? My kids adore you." 

 Lynda smiled and signed her name on the paper. "What about Detectives
Dewey and Huey?" As if on cue, the other Detective came up to the small
group, escorted by the twelve guards. "There you guys are. Ready to search
the plane?" 

 "Lynda, you're crazy," Huey said. 

 "Thank you, Jack," Lynda smiled before walking over to the plane and
climbing the stairs to go inside. She was followed by the wolves, Dewey
and Huey, and the guards. As they stepped in, Lynda got the feeling of
deja vu. This plane seemed similar to the one she and her father rode in
while flying into Hurricane Jason awhile back. 

 The entire interior of the plane was searched, but nothing was found.
Lynda racked her brain. Where could that clue be? She saw Dief and Regan
pawing at the large cage that held the tortoise. She went over and knelt
beside the cage. "Find something?" The two wolves barked loudly. 

 Lynda turned to one of the crew members. "I need to get in this cage. Do
you have a key?" 

 "No one is allowed in there," the member said. "Ty is agitated enough as
it is." 

 "Ty?" the Detectives asked. 

 "Yes," the member looked slightly indignant. "The tortoise." 

 Lynda shook her head. "Look, I really need to get into that cage. Now,
either you open it, or I'll shoot the blasted door off. You choose." 

 "Is she serious?" the member asked. 

 "As a heart attack," Dewey replied. 

 The member sighed, dug into her pocket, and pulled out a key. She
unlocked the cage door, allowing Lynda access to the cage. The young
Detective crawled around on her hands and knees, searching the cage floor
for the note. She found it and grabbed it, then left the cage. 

 "Good job," she petted both wolves. She unfolded the note, then read it
aloud. "'One cent, two cents, why not make it three? You're getting one
step closer, Detective, to finding your partners and me. But you look
tired, so tell me is it a crime, to sit down with the President and have a
reel good time?'." She looked up. "Okay." 

 "So, any thoughts to where we're going now?" Huey asked. 

 "Well, I think a movie theater, or something of that nature," Lynda
answered. 

 "How'd you figure that out?" Dewey asked. 

 "By the way reel is spelled," Lynda explained. "It's spelled R-E-E-L, not
R-E-A-L. Reel, as in a movie reel for a projector." 

 "Lynda, there are hundred movie-related things in Chicago," Huey said. 

 "But only forty-two Presidents," Lynda pointed out. "That narrows down
the search 

 considerably, doesn't it?" She reached into her coat and pulled out her
cell phone, then dialed a 

 number. "Frannie, it's me . . . hey, you okay? Yeah, we're doing
everything we can, alright?" 

 She smiled. "Well, I'm glad he's there for you. Look, can you do me a
favor? Cross index 

 movie theaters or shops with the American Presidents, then let me know
what you have, okay?" She hung up and put the phone back in her pocket.
"Frannie's going to do a little 

searching for us." She shook her head slightly. "Turnbull and Thatcher
have parked themselves at Division, as well as the FBI. Poor Welsh." She
turned to the crew. "Did you notice anyone acting suspicious today?" 

 "No," the crew member answered. "Just had the usual people come by to
double-check the plane before getting ready to take off. Kinda of funny
they would use two different people." 

 "What do you mean?" Lynda asked. 

 "Well, someone came early this morning as we were loading Ty into the
plane," another member explained. "We left to go back to the hanger to get
some stuff, and when we came back another person was there, saying he was
filling in for his friend who was sick." 

 "Was he a white male, five feet ten, with bushy brown hair, brown eyes,
and a big nose?" Dewey asked. 

 "Yeah," the member answered. 

 Lynda sighed as she looked at her temporary partners. She didn't like the
sound of that. "About what time did this new guy show up?" 

 "Oh, I'd say about six-thirty," the first member answered. 

 "And how long were you gone from the plane?" 

 "About ten minutes, at the most," the second member replied. 

 "And you didn't see the first guy again?" 

 "Lynda what are you getting at?" Huey asked. 

 "No," the members said together. 

 Lynda closed her eyes. She was hoping for a longer time limit. "We need
to search this plane." 

 "Lynda, we already found the clue," Dewey said. 

 "We're not looking for a clue, Tom. We're looking for a body. If what the
crew is saying is true, then Klein wouldn't have had time to kill and get
rid of the first guy without drawing some attention. The only way he could
have gotten away with it would be if he stuffed the body somewhere on this
plane." She turned back to the crew. "Do you mind if we look around
again?" 

 "No, go right ahead." 

 The three Detective split up, along with the wolves and guards as they
searched the plane. Lynda, Regan, and three guards looked in the back with
Huey, while Dewey and the remaining guards and crew members searched the
front. 

 Huey was looking at the cargo area in the back when they came to a small
door. Huey turned the knob, but the door wouldn't open. He gave it a good
hard pull, and the door swung open. A body tumbled out. 

 "Hey," the Detective shouted. "I found him." Everyone rushed over. 

 Dewey looked at Lynda. "Lynda, I don't think -" 

 "Tom, I can handle cadavers, okay? I'm not like my father." She noticed
the bullet wound near the base of the head. She knelt beside the body and
felt for a pulse. Nothing. She sighed as she looked up at Huey. "Call it
in, Jack."  

* * * * 

 

 "Okay," Xavier said. "That does it. No more Mr. Nice Guy." He had just
gotten word from Klein about the Sears Tower incident, and he was not
happy. 

 "When were you ever nice?" Stanley asked wryly. 

 Xavier scowled at the Detective before punching him in the jaw. "I'd
watch it, Detective." He tapped his chin. "Twice I tried to kill your
daughter, and twice she's managed to escape." 

 "Yeah, well that's Lynda for you," Ray said. "You'll never kill her,
Chris. She's going to find you and *you're* the one who's going to have to
worry about your life." 

 "Not so fast," Xavier said. "I have one more trick up my sleeve." He
picked up his cell phone and dialed Klein's number. "Vince? Go to Point
Number Eight. I've decided to use Plan B instead of Plan A." He hung up
and smiled smugly. 

 "What's Plan B?" Fraser asked. 

 "Oh, just a combination of perchloric acid and C-Four," Xavier replied
before leaving. 

 "Oh, dear," Fraser muttered. 

 "What?" the Detectives asked. 

 "He's going to kill Lynda." 

 "How?" Stanley looked worried. 

 "You know what C-Four is, right?" Ray and Stanley nodded. "Well, imagine
the explosive power of that combined with the explosive power of rocket
fuel - perchloric acid." 

 "Oh no," Ray said. 

 Stanley jiggled at his binds. "We gotta get out of here." 

 "Stanley, listen to me," Fraser said. Stanley ignored him and continued
to struggle. "Stanley, Stanley, Stanley, Stanley, Stan -" THUMP! Stanley
struggling causing him to be knocked over on his side. "Are you ready to
listen now?" 

 "What, Fraser?" 

 "Lynda has made it this far on her own," Fraser explained. "She'll be
fine. We've all trained her, remember?" 

 "But she's my daughter, Fraser," Stanley said softly. "I can't lose her."


 "You won't," Fraser said. 

 "Promise?" 

 "Yes," Fraser said. "I promise."  

* * * *  

 Back at the airport, the body was taken away to take back to the 27th for
Mort to look at. Lynda had sent out an APB for Klein, then informed Welsh
of what was going on. The crew was getting questioned when Lynda's cell
phone rang. 

 "Detective Lynda Kowalski," she answered. "Oh, hi, Frannie . . . really?
That's 

great." She motioned for Huey and Dewey to come over. She covered the
phone with her hand. "Can you get me a pen and notebook, please?" Huey
handed her a notepad and Dewey gave her a pen. "Thanks, guys." She spoke
into the phone, cradling it on her shoulder so she could write. "Just run
down the list, okay?" She wrote down names and addresses as Francesca read
them to her. 

 At one point, she paused and stopped writing. "What was that last one,
Frannie." She listened. "Okay, I think that's the one. Thanks again." She
hung up, smiling. "Guys, let's go." 

 "To where?" Dewey asked. 

 "Three Penny Movie Theater at 2424 North Lincoln," Lynda replied as she
read the address from the notepad. 

 "I get it," Huey nodded. "Three cents, Three Penny, right?" Lynda nodded.


 "And Lincoln was the President," Dewey nodded. 

 "That's right guys," Lynda smiled. She turned to Dief and Regan, who were
fascinated by the large tortoise. "Come on, boys, let's go!" The wolves
abandoned the reptile and trotted after the three Detectives as they made
their way back to Lynda's car.	

* * * *  

 It was almost three o'clock by the time they arrived at the movie
theater. Lynda pulled her car beside the curb and the five got out. There
was a long line waiting to get in. They didn't even bother asking, and
just went up to the front, despite the protests from the other customers. 

 "Hey, you can't do that," the person taking tickets protested. The
Detectives flashed their badges. The ticket taker looked nervous. "How can
I help you, officers?" 

 "When are the movies delivered?" Lynda asked. 

 "I just do tickets," the person said. "My manager might know. I'll go get
him." The ticket taker left and returned a few minutes later with an older
man, about her father's age. 

 "Is there a problem?" the manager asked. 

 "Sir, we're from the 27th District Police Department," Lynda said. "My
name is Detective Lynda Kowalski. When are -" 

 "You're Lynda Kowalski?" the manager interrupted. "Oh, I'm so glad you're
here. Something was delivered here addressed to you." He led the
Detectives and wolves to the back of the theater where his office was. On
his desk was a movie reel container. A note with Lynda's name was taped to
it. "Any idea who it's from?" 

 "Oh, I know who it's from," Lynda replied as she opened the container.
Inside was a movie reel. "Do you think it's possible we could see what's
on this reel?" 

 "Sure," the manager replied. He took the reel and led the five to where
the projectors for the movies were located. He set up one of the
projectors for a theater that was empty, then started it. The six watched
and listened as Xavier came onto the movie screen. 

 "Hello, Detective," he sneered. "You seem to be doing quite well on my
little game. I'm sure you're wondering how your partners are. They're
alive . . . for now, anyway. Well, enough chitchat. It's time for the next
riddle: 'This place is named after a famous gum. It's host to games, good,
bad and then some. The American pastime this city holds dear. RCW - 139,
the next clue for you is here." The reel ended. 

 "What the hell was that about?" the manager asked. The three Detective
ignored him as they began solving the riddle. 

 "American pastime," Lynda said. "That's easy. Baseball." 

 "Wrigley Field," the Duck Boys said in unison. 

 "Let's go," Lynda said as she hurried out with the others. She smiled at
the manager. "Thanks." They left the manager standing dumbfounded.  

* * * *  

 The Detectives raced through the stadium of Wrigley Field as they tried
to find where the next clue was hidden. They had not trouble getting in,
once they explained the situation. The wolves ran ahead of them, trying to
search for any stadium snacks. Alas, there was none, since no game was
going on. 

 "So, any idea where we should look?" Dewey panted. 

 Lynda remembered the clue in her brain. She nodded. "Section 139, Row R,
Seat CW. RCW - 139." The five made it to Section 139 in less than three
minutes. The hurried down to Row R and found Seat CW. Sure enough, taped
under the seat was the next clue. Lynda opened it and read it. "'Now it is
time for me to say, you're doing quite well on this exciting day. You've
been all over the city, finding clue after clue, that will lead to the
three who mean the most to you. So, look in the place that likes the
Fourth of July, these objects are used to light up the sky. You will find
them inside a very large room, they make brilliant colors, and sometimes
go boom'." 

 "Fireworks," the three Detectives said together. 

 Lynda pulled her cell phone from her coat and dialed Francesca's number.
"Hi, Frannie. Look, can you check all the firework stores in the city?"
She waited while the Civilian Aid worked on her computer, then listened as
she told her. "Thanks." She hung up and put her phone away. 

 "So, where to now?" Huey asked. 

 "The Firework Factory at 135 North Randolph Street," Lynda answered.
"Let's go."  

* * * *  

 The sun was setting by the time the Chevy pulled into the parking lot of
the Firework Factory. It was a lot colder than it had been. A big gust of
wind blew as they three got out of the car. 

 Lynda turned to the wolves. "Stay here, okay?" They barked in response. 

 The Detectives slowly approached the front of the warehouse. They walked
to a nearby door and tried it. It was locked. 

 "Great, now what?" Dewey asked. 

 Lynda removed the lock picking set from her Armani jacket. Using three
picks, she quickly managed to unlock the door in less than a minute. She
put the set back in her jacket, then removed her gun. She release the
safety. "Let's go, but be careful." 

 After the others removed their guns, Lynda slowly opened the door.
Together, they walked in, cautiously looking around as their eyes adjusted
to the darkness. They realized they were in a large room. 

 Lynda went over to a set of crates while the Duck Boys investigated
another side of the room. She put her gun away, and lifted the top of one
of the crates. Inside was not fireworks as she thought, but a powdery
brownish-black stuff. She carefully sniffed at it. Nothing. She sighed as
she removed one of her gloves and took a little of the substance in her
fingers. Lynda really didn't think she'd be doing this so early in her
career. She lightly licked the powder. 

 Lynda let the taste roll around in her mouth for a few moments before she
spit it out. She knew that taste, it was unmistakable. That was C-Four, a
very powerful explosive, commonly used in fireworks. She put the top back
on the crate. 

 "Hey, Lynda, come here," Huey shouted. "You might want to see this." 

 Lynda hurried over to where the others were. They were looking in another
crate that had bottles of clear liquid in them. "What's that?" 

 "We were hoping you might be able to tell us," Dewey replied. 

 Lynda took the top off of one of the bottles. Not knowing what was in it,
she carefully inhaled the vapors. They started burning the inside of her
nose. Her eyes immediately watered as she covered her nose. 

 "You okay?" Huey asked. 

 "Oh, man, that hurts," Lynda said. "But, yeah, I'm okay." 

 "You know what it is?" 

 "Perchloric acid," Lynda answered. "There's no mistaking that smell. It's
a bit unusual for that to be here, don't you think?" 

 "What do you mean?" Dewey asked. 

 Lynda put her glove back on. "Well, perchloric acid is used in -" She
never got to finish her sentences as they heard the sound of a window
breaking. A bottle rolled to a stop at their feet. It had a flaming rag
stuffed in the neck and was filled halfway with the same liquid that was
in the bottles. 

 Lynda's eyes widened in horror. "Run!" she shouted. The three ran as fast
as they could toward the front of the building. When they had made it out,
the entire building went up in a powerful explosion. The force was so
strong it threw the Detectives into the air. They landed on the hard
concrete almost a hundred feet from the building. 

 Lynda was the first to stir. She slowly sat up and watched as the
building burned down. She felt her body bruising from the hard landing,
and a bump was forming on her head, but she was otherwise uninjured. She
looked over as Dewey sat up, rubbing his head and side. "You okay?" she
asked. 

 "Yeah," he answered groggily. "You?" 

 "I'm fine." She looked over to where Huey was. "Jack, you okay?" He
didn't move. "Jack?" Nothing. Lynda and Dewey rushed over to their friend.
Lynda felt for a pulse. It was good and strong, just like his breathing.
Lynda reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell. It had miraculously
remained unscathed, so Lynda dialed Dispatch. "This is Unit 1-2-1. I'm
located at 135 North Randolph Street. Request an ambulance. Officer down.
Repeat, officer down."	

* * * *  

 It seemed like a nightmare to Lynda as she watched Huey being loaded onto
a stretcher and put into an ambulance. It was her fault he was being taken
away. She leaned against some crates and began crying softly. 

 "Lynda?" 

 The young Detective looked up through teary eyes to see Dewey, Welsh,
Derek, Ford and Travis approaching her. She stood up straighter. "How is
he?" 

 "Just a minor concussion," Welsh said. "He'll be released tomorrow
afternoon if nothing else occurs." 

 "Sir, I am so sorry." 

 "Lynda, you have nothing to be sorry for," Welsh said. "If it hadn't been
for you, Dewey and Huey would both be dead." 

 Lynda looked at Dewey. "Shouldn't you be with him, Tom? He's your
partner." 

 "He regained consciousness before being loaded," Dewey said. "He wanted
me to stay and help you finish the case . . . if that's okay with you." 

 Lynda turned and watched the blaze. "The case is already finished. Xavier
had no intention of giving me the opportunity to find Dad, Ray, and
Fraser. I was supposed to have been killed in that explosion." She sighed.
"And now there's no way to find them." She shook her head. 

 "What was in that building that caused the explosion?" Ford asked, acting
considerate for a change. 

 "C-Four and perchloric acid," Lynda answered. "I'm surprised there wasn't
a bigger explosion." 

 "Lynda?" Lynda looked at Derek. "Don't give up, okay? You'll figure out
something. You always do." 

 Lynda almost smiled. "Thanks, but I wouldn't even know where to begin."
Fresh tears fell down her face. She felt so guilty about not being able to
find her partners, not to mention she was extremely stressed out. "I wish
I was dead." 

 "Don't say that," Welsh said. "A lot of people would be hurt and dying if
you hadn't helped out." 

 "Yeah," Dewey said. "Nothing good can come from you being dead." 

 Lynda looked up when he said that. Then she glanced over at the mob of
reporters, firefighters, and police officers. Slowly a smile spread across
her face. "That's it." 

 "What?" the others asked. 

 "Sir, has anyone outside of you guys seen me?" Lynda asked Welsh. 

 "Not that I know of," Welsh answered. "Why?" 

 "I was just thinking about what Tom said. What if I *was* dead?" 

 Derek knitted his eyebrows. "What do you mean, Lynda?" 

 "Since no one has seen me," Lynda explained, "we can all pretend I died
in the explosion." 

 "And why would you be doing this?" Dewey asked. 

 "Remember when Xavier was first chosen by the committee?" Lynda asked.
She turned to the FBI Agents. "I'll explain later." 

 "Yeah," Dewey said. "He got drunk and you helped arrest him." 

 "I'm afraid I don't follow," Ford said. 

 "Xavier though he defeated me back then," Lynda explained. "As a result,
he got cocky. Now, since he wanted me dead, if you go on the air saying I
*did* die in the explosion, word will get back to him. He may slip up
again." 

 "Lynda, you know what you're saying?" Welsh asked. "This case could go on
for days. Are you really ready to risk something like this so early in
your career?" 

 "Sir, I would give my life to bring my partners back," Lynda replied
firmly. 

 Welsh nodded. "Okay, you got it. From this point on, you're dead. Stay
here, and don't let anyone see you. We'll alert the firefighters and the
media, telling them you died, okay?" 

 "Don't forget to tell Dief and Regan," Lynda said. "Let them know what's
going on." 

 Welsh nodded and left with the other men, leaving the young Detective to
her thoughts.  

* * * *  

 Xavier smiled smugly as he walked into the room where the three men were
held. Being wheeled in behind him by two other men was a television set.
It was centered for all three hostages to see, then the two men left. 

 "What is that for?" Stanley asked. 

 "Oh, I have something I think you three may be interested in," Xavier
said as he flipped the set on. The screen showed firefighters battling the
explosion on Randolph Street. A reporter was talking to the audience. 

 " . . . as firefighters continue to battle the blaze. For those of you
just joining us, tragedy has struck the Chicago Police Department as the
newest - and youngest member - to the force, Detective Lynda Kowalski of
the 27th District, was killed just a little over thirty minutes ago." 

 "No," Stanley shook his head in disbelief. 

 The reporter continued. "Detective Kowalski was in the middle of
investigating the disappearance of Detectives Raymond Vecchio and Stanley
Kowalski, her father, and Constable Benton Fraser of the RCMP, with
Detectives Jack Huey and Thomas Dewey - also of the 27th District - when
the building they were in suddenly exploded. According to Detective Dewey,
Lynda had gotten him and his partner out of the building - know as the
Firework Factory on North Randolph - seconds before it exploded, but was
unable to make it out herself. A body has yet to be found, but authorities
confirm that one will turn up once the blaze is extinguished." 

 The camera zoomed out and showed Welsh and Dewey standing next to the
reporter. "I'm standing with Lieutenant Harding Welsh of the 27th District
and Detective Dewey. Lieutenant, do you have anything to say?" 

 Welsh looked solemn as he took a ragged breath. "Lynda was one of the
best Detectives I've ever had working under me, even though she only began
working for me today. She showed a lot of potential and determination, and
she will be missed." He stared coldly into the camera. "For those
responsible, I have this to say: You killed a Chicago Detective, kidnaped
two other Detectives and an RCMP officer. You will be found, and then it's
going to be hell to pay." He turned and walked away. 

 The reporter turned to Dewey. "Detective, how is your partner?" 

 "Jack's fine," Dewey said, looking as solemn as Welsh was. "He suffered a
concussion, but he's going to be just fine. He would have been dead if
Lynda hadn't gotten him out of there. So would I. Lynda's a hero, and will
always be remembered as one." 

 "Do you agree with Lieutenant Welsh?" 

 "All the way," Dewey replied firmly before leaving. 

 The camera zoomed back in on the reporter. "More as it develops." 

 Xavier turned the set off, then looked smugly. "Like I said: I'm better
than she ever could have been. And this proves it." He laughed as he left
the room. 

 Stanley took a ragged breath. Fraser eyed his friend. "Stanley, are you
okay?" 

 "No, I'm not okay, Fraser," he said angrily. "I just lost my daughter.
How do you think I am?" 

 "So, now what?" Ray asked, trying not to let his voice waver. "What are
we going to do?" 

 "Nothing," Stanley replied monotonously. "What's there to live for?" 

 "What are you saying?" Fraser asked. 

 "I'm saying I'm giving up, okay, Fraser? As long as Lynda was out there,
there was something worth living for. But now she's . . . and there's
nothing for me to live for." 

 "But you can't just give up," Fraser protested. "Xavier needs to be
captured. Lynda saved Huey and Dewey today; she's a hero for that. But if
we let Xavier go, Lynda's death will be for nothing. We have to do
something." 

 "That's the ticket, Son," Robert Fraser materialized next to his son.
"Keep the Yanks' spirits up." 

 "Have you . . . heard anything?" Fraser asked in a low voice, barely
audible to anyone. 

 "About the Yank's daughter?" Robert asked. "No, nothing. And I don't
expect to." 

 "What do you mean?" 

 "She's not dead, Son. She's still alive." 

 "Then why -" 

 "She felt that faking her death would allow her to continue her
investigation without certain things hindering her." The ghost smiled.
"She's very smart for a woman. And don't give up. She'll find you, I'm
sure of it." 

 "Thanks, Dad," Fraser looked pleased. 

 "My pleasure," Robert replied before vanishing. 

 Fraser glanced back at his two partners. He knew he should tell them that
Lynda was still alive - Stanley especially - but he'd then have to explain
how he knew. He wasn't ready to divulge that his father hung around as a
ghost. They'd think he had a hole in his bag of marbles. The Mountie
sighed. He'd just have to be patient and wait for Lynda to come.  

* * * *   

 Lynda waited patiently behind the crates. It had been six hours since the
explosion, and just now the firefighters were able to extinguish the fire.
She had been able to remain out of sight from almost everyone as she
watched Welsh and Dewey talk to the reporters. She couldn't make out what
they were saying, but Lynda knew it was about her. She sighed, waiting. 

 "Penny for your thoughts?" 

 Lynda turned around, and saw Derek standing behind her. "Uh . . . just
thinking." 

 "Anything in particular?" 

 Lynda shook her head. "Just what's been going on, that's all." 

 "Lynda, you sure you want do this? I mean -" 

 "Derek, my father is out there," Lynda said. "I have to find him, and if
this is the only way, then so be it." She turned her back to him. "Look, I
want to apologize for slapping you . . . again." 

 Derek smiled, remembering the first time she had slapped him. It was
right after she found out who he really was, almost five months ago. "It's
okay. I should have been a bit more understanding. I'm sorry, too." 

 Lynda started to say something, but was interrupted by Welsh, Dewey, and
Ford and Travis coming up to them. Lynda could tell something was up.
"What is it?" 

 "Guess who we just picked up?" Dewey said. "He was watching the blaze
from a couple of blocks away." 

 "Who?" Lynda asked. 

 "Klein," Welsh said. 

 Lynda's eyes narrowed. "Where is he?" 

 "He's being taken down to Division for questioning," Welsh said. He eyed
Lynda's attire. Her jacket had been torn at the sides and arms, her jeans
were dirty, and her face was covered in soot from the fire. "Detective, I
want you to go home and get some rest. You've earned it." 

 "No way," Lynda said. "Klein is mine." 

 "You're dead," Derek said. 

 "So?" 

 "So, nothing," Welsh said. "You're in no condition to be doing anything
but resting." 

 "Can I at least watch it?" Lynda asked. "Please, Sir?" 

 "Fine," Welsh answered. "But go back to your place and get cleaned up, at
least." 

 "Yes, Sir." Lynda started to walk off, but Welsh stopped her. 

 "Detective, someone is going to have to take you back to your place,"
Welsh explained. "You're dead, remember? You cannot take the risk of
someone seeing you." 

 "But what about my car? And Dief and Regan?" 

 "I'll drive them back to Division," Dewey offered. "And I'll be really
careful. Promise." 

 Lynda sighed, then dug around in her pocket until she had her car keys.
She tossed them to Dewey. "You scratch it, Tom, and I'm coming after you,
okay?" Dewey nodded, then left. "So, who wants to take me home?" 

 "I have to stay here,"Welsh said. "I'm investigating your death." 

 "And we have to stay as well," Ford said, speaking for himself and
Travis. "We have to investigate the explosion." 

 "I'll take you home," Derek offered. 

 "You?" Lynda asked. "No way." 

 "Lynda, go with him," Welsh said wearily. "He's the only person
available. I'll se you both back at Division in about two hours." He
walked off with Ford and Travis. 

 "Well, shall we?" Derek said. 

 "What do you drive?" Lynda asked as she carefully followed Derek. 

 "A truck." 

 "Oh. Okay, I guess that'll do."  

* * * *  

 Derek drove his maroon Dodge Ram north on the somewhat quiet street of
Lake Shore Drive. He glanced over at his ex-girlfriend, not sure of what
to say. There were so many questions to ask her, but he knew asking the
wrong one would be risking serious bodily harm, and he had already had a
taste of that today. His cheek was still stinging. He sighed. 

 "What?" Lynda asked. 

 "Nothing," Derek replied. 

 "Don't give me that, Derek. I know you too well by now to know that sigh
means you're hesitating about something. Now spill it." 

 "Okay," Derek took in a deep breath. "For starters, what exactly did you
go through today? I'm asking that because you look like - and don't take
this personally - hell." 

 "Thanks," Lynda glared at him. She sighed. "Well, to put it into a tiny
nutshell, I woke up, got dressed, took Regan and Dief to a doughnut shop,
then went to work. Upon arriving and after identifying another body
totally unrelated to this case, I received a phone call from Inspector
Thatcher. I went over to the Consulate, where I learned that Fraser was
missing. A note addressed to me was on his desk. It said 'told you so'. 

 "Since Dad and Ray still weren't at work, I went over to Ray's, where I
found his bedroom window broken, and a similar note on his bed. Working on
a hunch, I go over to Dad's apartment, where he's gone, and another note
is found. I take all three notes back to Division with me and inform Welsh
about what's going on. After a little digging around, we found out that
Dad, Ray, and Fraser were kidnaped by Christopher Xavier - whom I know you
already know about so we won't even go there. 

 "Anyway, Jack, Tom, the wolves, and I spend the next fifteen hours
finding and solving clues. I nearly shoot the Orion String Quartet at the
Symphony Center, nearly fall one hundred and fifty feet from the top of
the Ferris Wheel at Navy Pier, take out five guys on the roof of the Sears
Tower while Jack and Dewey are climbing the twin antennas to get a clue, I
run down a runway to stop a plane from taking off at O'Hare, and nearly
get myself blown up in a fireworks warehouse on North Randolph when Xavier
decides it's time to finish me off. And to top it off, I'm dead and my
ex-boyfriend is driving me around." 

 Derek tried to hide a smile as he pulled unnoticed into Lynda's parking
garage adjacent to her apartment building, but it was in vain. Lynda saw
him grinning as she got out of the truck and shut the door. "Something
funny, Derek?" 

 "No, Lynda," Derek answered as he got out and shut his door. "I'm just
thinking that if this is what your first day was like, then I'd hate to
see how the others will be." He walked Lynda over to the elevators.
Together, they got on and rode up to the sixty-seventh floor. 

 "I hope that they're nowhere near this stressful," Lynda replied wryly as
they got off and walked to her apartment. She got her keys out of her
jacket and unlocked her door. Derek went in and searched the place before
he allowed Lynda inside. She kicked off her shoes and took off her jacket,
throwing it onto the back of one of her chairs while Derek looked around. 

 "So, Lynda," Derek said while Lynda went into the kitchen, "Welsh said
Fraser got you Regan for Christmas. Is that true?" 

 "Yeah," Lynda answered as she came back with two cold cans of her
favorite soda - which also happened to be Derek's favorite soda - from her
fridge. She handed it to him one, popped hers open, and took a refreshing
sip. "Oh, that feels so good. Besides the two doughnuts I had for
breakfast, this is the only other thing that I've had today." 

 "Would you like me to fix up something really quickly while you take your
shower?" Derek asked. 

 "You don't mind?" Lynda asked surprised. 

 Derek shook his head. "No, it's okay." 

 "Well . . . sure, okay." Lynda set her drink on the coffee table, then
started off to her bedroom as Derek went into the kitchen. He stopped when
he noticed the red roses that were in the vase on the table. Eyebrows
raised, he went over and fingered them slightly. 

 "At least you didn't throw them out," Derek said softly. 

 "So, it was you who sent those to me," Lynda said suddenly. 

 Derek whirled around to see Lynda leaning against the entrance to the
kitchen. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't frowning either. 

 "Uh, what do you mean?" Derek asked. Lynda gave him a look. "Okay, yes, I
did send the roses." 

 "Why?" 

 "Because . . . well, because I'm really happy for you," Derek answered.
"I thought it would be a nice gesture." 

 Lynda's face softened slightly. "Derek, it was a nice gesture, but don't
you think red roses were a bit extreme?" 

 "What do you mean?" 

 "Well, red symbolizes love," Lynda explained gently. "I can't love you
until I'm able to trust you again, Derek. And I don't know if I can . . .
not the way before." 

 "So, you want me to take them off your hands?" Derek frowned. 

 "No," Lynda said quickly. She walked over and fingered the petals. "I
really like them. No one ever gave me flowers. Well, Fraser did while I
was recovering from amnesia." 

 "And I gave you that single rose," Derek added. 

 "Yeah," Lynda said softly. She turned around and found herself looking
into Derek's warm green eyes. It was only then she realized just how close
she was standing to him. Suddenly, it felt twenty degrees warmer. "Uh . .
. Derek?" 

 "Shh," Derek said as he cupped her chin in his hands and kissed her
gently on the lips. It was everything Lynda remembered about his kisses as
she made no move to break away. Abruptly, Derek pulled away, a horrified
expression upon his face. "Oh, Lynda, I'm so sorry. I - I - I - shouldn't
have done that. Oh, man, what have I done?" He quickly left the kitchen. 

 Lynda was confused. She brushed her fingers over her lips, then sighed
and went to her bedroom to get cleaned up. Why did love have to be so
complicated?  

* * * *  

 Sixty-five minutes later, Derek and Lynda were quietly making their way
to the 27th. Lynda had showered, then changed into a pair of jeans,
T-shirt, and sneakers. Her shoulder and ankle holsters were secured. Her
suede jacket, scarf, and gloves were over that. As they drove down
Michigan Avenue, Lynda glanced at Derek. He was gripping the steering
wheel so hard, his knuckles were white. Lynda, in spite of what happened
earlier, chuckled. 

 "What?" Derek asked. 

 "Derek, if you grip the wheel any harder, you'll leave imprints." Derek
loosened his grip, but never took his eyes off the road. Lynda sighed.
"Look, I'm not mad about what happened, okay?" 

 "I am," Derek retorted. "I took advantage of you. I never thought I would
do that to anyone, let alone you." 

 "Derek, we've both been under a lot of stress lately; we've done things
we wouldn't normally do. So, if I promise to keep my temper in check
around you from now on, will you promise to be patient until I make my
decision?" 

 "Promise," Derek said. "And you?" 

 "Promise," Lynda replied. 

 The rest of the trip to the 27th was in silence. Derek pulled his truck
next to Lynda's Chevy in the parking lot, and both went inside to the
bullpen. Considering the importance of the situation at hand, the Squad
Room was busy with activity, even at three in the morning. 

 While Derek went to talk to Agents Ford and Travis, who were in with
Welsh and Tatcher, Lynda went over to her desk and hung her scarf and
gloves on her coatrack. She was sitting down when Francesca marched over. 

 "So, have you found anything?" she asked. 

 "No," Lynda answered. "We're sort of at a dead end right now. The
explosion destroyed any clues we could have found, so we're down to
nothing." 

 "So, you're giving up?" Francesca asked angrily. 

 "No, of course not," Lynda answered. "I'll never give up. I just don't
know where to go from here." 

 "My brother's out there." 

 "So is my father!" Lynda shouted, effectively halting the work of the
others. Lynda stood up and glared at the Civilian Aid. "I am doing
everything in my power to find them, okay? I have spent the better part of
yesterday running around the city, solving clue after clue after clue,
nearly getting myself killed several times in the process! I'm doing
everything I can, okay? I am only human!" 

 Francesca looked guiltily at her friend before bursting into tears. "Oh,
Lynda, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so angry." 

 "It's okay," Lynda sniffled, tears running down her cheeks. "I know how
you feel." 

 "I know you're doing everything you can." 

 "I just wish I knew where to go from here," Lynda sniffled as Welsh,
Turnbull, Derek, Thatcher, and the other Agents walked up to them. 

 "What's going on?" Welsh asked. 

 "Nothing, Sir," Lynda replied as she wiped her cheeks dry. 

 "Lynda, would you like some saskatoon berry tea?" Turnbull asked. "It may
calm you down." 

 Lynda nodded, and Turnbull and Francesca went to the lounge to prepare
some. Lynda watched as Turnbull wrapped his red-clad arm around the
brunette and comforted her. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. 

 "Klein is waiting to be questioned," Welsh explained. "Dewey is going to
-" 

 "Sir, I want to question him," Lynda said. "He knows where Xavier and my
father and Ray and Fraser are." 

 "You are in no condition to talk to anyone, Detective," Welsh said.
"Besides, you're dead, remember?" 

 "So, I'll pretend to be someone else," Lynda replied. "Just give me a
moment." She left the small group and walked out of the bullpen. She
returned a few minutes later with a wig. It was short and light red,
almost like a sunset color. "See? I'll just put this on and I'm a totally
different person." She secured the wig over her blond hair, making sure
not a single strand was showing. "What do you think?" Everyone stared. The
new hairstyle not only made Lynda look like a different person, but a few
years older as well. 

 "Whoa," Derek said, eyebrows raised. "Red suits you nicely." 

 Welsh took a few moments to recover. "Okay," he finally said. "Klein's
all yours. Interrogation Room Number Two." 

 "Thank you, Sir," Lynda said before walking off, the others close behind
her. She caught up with Dewey as he was about to go into the room. "Hey,
Tom, Welsh said I could question Klein." 

 "Who are you?" Dewey asked. 

 "It's me," Lynda said. 

 Dewey finally recognized her. "Lynda?" She smiled. "What's with the wig?"


 "This is the only way I can question Klein without him knowing I'm
actually alive," Lynda explained. "Do you mind if I take over?" 

 "No," Dewey said. "He's all yours." 

 "We'll be watching," Welsh said, speaking for himself and the others.
Lynda nodded and waited for them to go into the adjacent viewing room
before she opened the door and went inside the interrogation room. 

 Klein was inside, sitting at the table that was centered in the middle of
the room. He looked up as she closed the door. "Well, aren't you a pretty
little thing," he sneered. 

 "Shut your trap," Lynda answered. 

 "Ooh, I like them feisty. What's your name?" 

 Lynda stopped short. She hadn't expected this, but she quickly racked her
brain. "Anna. Detective Anna Peters. Now, why don't you answer me some
question? Like where are Detectives Vecchio and Kowalski and Constable
Fraser?" 

 "I don't know." 

 "Don't give me that," Lynda glared as she paced slowly back and forth,
the way she had seen other her father and Ray do. "Everyone here knows
you're friends with Christopher Xavier, and he's the one behind their
kidnaping and the murder of the guy at O'Hare and the explosion that
killed Detective Lynda Kowalski. We can link you to all of those
incidences, and charge you with murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and a
long list of other charges that will make your head swim." She didn't know
if all of that was true, but it sure sounded good. 

 "I have no idea what you're talking about, Sugar." 

 Lynda's blue eyes narrowed. "That's Detective to you. You want to tell me
why you were watching the firefighters battle the blaze from the
explosion?" 

 "I was out for a stroll. I happened across it and watched. Is that a
crime?" 

 "Yes, it is a crime to watch firefighters put out a blaze at one
thirty-five in the morning. Try again." 

 "I couldn't sleep." 

 Lynda face was starting to get red as she clenched her fists tightly. She
knew that Klein would be charged no matter what happened in here, but she
wanted a confession. She needed to know where her partners were being
held. She took a deep breath, then slowly let out as she tucked her hands
into her pocket. 

 Her fingers brushed against the lighter that her father gave her. She
held it tightly. Then she smiled to herself. She knew how to make him
talk. "Excuse me one moment." She left, much to the dismay of her superior
and curiosity of the others. 

 Lynda returned a few moments later with a small vile, one that was found
on Klein after the explosion. She fingered it as she sat in a chair
opposite Klein, then set it on the table. "You know what this is?" 

 "No," Klein eyed the vile of clear liquid. "What is it?" 

 "It was in your pocket," Lynda answered. She held it up. "Forensics was
nice enough to let me borrow it, but they're not sure what it is. They
just said make sure not to heat it up." She gave Klein a smile as she
pulled out her lighter. "I wonder why they said that?" 

 Klein looked nervous. "I'm not sure." 

 Lynda flipped open the lighter, and flicked it on. A small flame danced
from it. She held it close to the vile. "You know, Vince, we both know you
know a lot more than you want us to think you know. So, why don't you save
a lot of time by telling me all you do know?" 

 "Or else, what?" 

 "Or else I ignite this vile and see what happens." 

 "Are you nuts?!" Klein screamed. "That's rocket fuel! You light it, we
all die." 

 "Then tell me everything you know," Lynda demanded. 

 "You're crazy, you know that?" Klein jumped from his chair and backed
away into a corner, looking seriously freaked out. 

 "Yes, I am crazy!" Lynda shouted. "I am totally deranged! And I will
light this if you don't spill your guts! Now, where is Xavier?!" 

 "I DON"T KNOW!" Klein screamed tearfully. "He never told me! I just set
the clues and caused the explosion." 

 Lynda stood there for a few moments. She sighed, knowing Klein was
telling the truth. She put away the lighter, then opened the vile and
drank the contents. "You know, I don't know why you're making such a big
deal about this little vile of water." 

 Klein looked up. "You mean . . ." 

 "You're going away for a very long time," Lynda smiled. She turned to
leave, but stopped just short of the door and turned around. "Oh, and
here's something to remember me by." She took off her wig, letting her
blond hair fall over her shoulders. 

 Klein looked terrified. "L-L-Lynda? But you're dead. You're dead." He
collapsed to the floor, muttering hysterically about jibberish. 

 Lynda walked out of the interrogation room as the others joined her.
"Well, how did I do, Sir?" 

 Welsh had to keep from smiling, but he was laughing on the inside. So
much like her father, he thought. "You did excellent, Detective." 

 "But we still don't know where Xavier is," Lynda said as she put the wig
back on her head. "And that's what's important." 

 "Where'd you get the lighter?" Derek asked. 

 "Present from my father," Lynda said. "He always considered it a good
luck charm, so he gave it to me." 

 "Why are you putting on the wig, Lynda?" Dewey asked. 

 "I think it would be safe to assume that someone could be watching,"
Lynda said. "One thing I've learned from Xavier is to expect the
unexpected from him. For all we know, he could still have someone watching
this place. I think our best bet would be to just call me Detective Anna
Peters until this thing blows over." 

 "Okay," Welsh said. "Well, let's get to work then, shall we?" 

 The group herded back into the bullpen, where Lynda went back over to her
desk, where Francesca and Turnbull were waiting with two cups of hot
saskatoon tea. Dief and Regan were lounging out, trying to sleep. Derek
joined her, while the rest went back into Welsh's office. 

 "Derek, where's Lynda?" Francesca asked. "We have her tea." 

 "I'm right here," Lynda smiled. Francesca and Turnbull looked at the
red-haired woman standing next to Derek. "Yeah, it's me. I'm technically
still dead, so I'm remaining incognito until Xavier is arrested." 

 "Cool hair," Francesca smiled. 

 "Red suits you," Turnbull nodded approvingly. 

 "I told her that," Derek said, "but she doesn't listen to me." 

 "I think that may have something to do with the fact that you lied to her
about who you really were," Turnbull pointed out. "If my hearing is
accurate - and it is most of the time - I do remember a few months ago
when Lynda came over to the Consulate and talked with Constable Fraser
about you." 

 "Turnbull, really," Lynda spoke up. "We can forget that." 

 "No one can forget that, Lynda," Turnbull said. "You called Derek at
least ten expletives, which was sort of surprising to hear those words
coming from you, considering." 

 Derek raised his eyebrows at Lynda as she buried her head in her hands.
"Really?" he asked. 

 Francesca shook her head. She loved Turnbull to death, but the one thing
he was never blessed with was tact. Or common sense. "Rennie," she said as
she took the steamy mug from Turnbull's hands and set it on Lynda's desk,
"why don't you help me with a few things, okay?" 

 Turnbull smiled at the brunette. "Okay, Frannie." Together, they walked
back to Francesca's desk, arm and arm. 

 Lynda collapsed into her chair, then took a sip of her tea. "Mmm. Not
bad. May have to get this recipe from Turnbull before I kill him." 

 Derek sat in the chair next to Lynda's desk and smiled. "So, you actually
said some naughty words, Detective?" 

 "Can it, Derek," Lynda replied, trying not to smile. "We got work to do."
She turned her computer on and began typing. 

 "So, where do you want to start?" Derek asked as he sipped the second mug
of tea. 

 "I'd like to start in the beginning," Lynda said. "From the notes, to the
phone calls, to the explosion reports, and everything in between. I think
I may have missed something." 

 "Okay," Derek replied. "Let's get to work."  

* * * *  

 Over an hour passed since they began working together. Derek had long
since fallen asleep, his head and arms resting on Lynda's desk. Thatcher,
Ford, Travis and Welsh were sleeping in the Lieutenant's office. Dewey was
nodding off at his desk, while Turnbull and Francesca were sound asleep at
Francesca's desk. Regan and Dief were curled up and fast asleep as they
lay near Lynda's feet. 

 Lynda, meanwhile, was still awake, running on pure adrenaline. She was
getting frustrated after reviewing everything over and over again, but
coming up with nothing. She sighed as she stared at Derek, who was snoring
lightly. 

 She smiled slightly. Derek looked so . . . so . . . what? Peaceful?
Angelic? Handsome? All the above? Yep, definitely all of the above. But
she couldn't forget that he had lied to her. Now she could understand
Terri Clark's song 'You're Easy On the Eyes'. Derek was definitely easy on
Lynda's eyes and hard on her heart. 

 Lynda focused her attention back to her work. She stared at the computer
screen, looking at the sites she had mapped out on a city map. A blinking
dot represented each place where a clue had been discovered and one for
the explosion, for a total of eight dots. There's got to be a pattern to
this, she thought. Xavier wouldn't just leave us hanging. Then again, he
may, just to make us squirm. 

 Lynda stared intently at the dots as she tried to focus her thought, just
like Fraser had taught her. Then, almost like magic, the dots jumped out
at her in a pattern. A big 'X'. 

 "Of course," Lynda said as she connected the dots to form an 'X'. "'X'
for Xavier." She zoomed in on the location where the two lines
cris-crossed. It was an old, condemned building not ten block from
Division. 

 Lynda quietly got up from her chair and put on her scarf and gloves. She
heard a small whine. She looked down to see Regan and Dief standing next
to her. "No, guys, not this time," she whispered. "Stay here, okay? Let
everyone know what's going on when they wake up." 

 She made her way quietly out of the Squad Room. If that pattern was
right, Lynda knew that this thing would end soon. She just hoped she'd be
in time.  

* * * *  

 It was four thirty-seven when Lynda pulled her Chevy quietly into a
parking lot adjacent to the building. Lynda got out of the car, and went
over to investigate. She looked around and saw a door nearby. 

 Cautiously, she approached it, then reached out and turned the knob. It
was locked. Using the lock picking set in her jacket, Lynda had the door
opened in less than thirty seconds. She put the lock picking set back in
her jacket, then pulled out her gun and released the safety. Taking a deep
breath, she made her way inside. 

 She walked slowly and quietly down a dark hall, her eyes adjusting to the
darkness. She came to a door at the end of the hall. Lynda put her ear to
the door and listened. She heard familiar voices, three of them. They
could only belong to three people. 

 Lynda turned the knob. Surprisingly, it was unlocked. That set off a bell
in Lynda's head. If her partners were in here, then that door should be
locked. Then took in a deep breath, then cautiously opened the door,
gripping her gun tightly. 

 She looked around the room, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary.
The only thing she could see was three chairs. Tied to each on was one of
her partners. She could see her father had somehow managed to tip his
chair over. Now he was lying on his side. But he was alive. They all were
alive. 

 "Guys?" Lynda said softly. They all looked up. Lynda rushed over to them.
"Oh, I'm so happy you're all okay." 

 "How the hell are you?" Ray asked. 

 Lynda looked up, remembering she still had her wig on. She pulled it off,
letting her blond hair fall onto her shoulders again. "It's me, Ray." 

 "Lynda?" Stanley looked up. "But you're dead." 

 "No," Lynda shook her head as she knelt beside her father. "I faked my
death so I could continue trying to find you." She noticed her father's
face. "What happened? What did he do to you?" She saw Ray and Fraser's
faces. "What did he do to all of you?" 

 "He just roughed us up a bit," Fraser said. "Some minor bruises and such,
but we're okay." He smiled. "It's good to see you, Lynda." 

 "It's good to see you, too." Lynda smiled. "I'm going to get you guys out
of here," Lynda put her gun away, then reached for her pocketknife. Using
the sharpest blade, she went after her father's binds, effectively cutting
him loose in ten seconds. She repeated the process with Ray and Fraser. In
less than a minute, her partners were standing and stretching. 

 "Oh, it's so good to see you," Stanley said as he hugged his daughter
tightly. "When Xavier showed us that report on television that you were
dead, I thought you were really gone." 

 "What a touching scene," Xavier sneered. Everyone looked to see Xavier
standing with three of his men. All four of them had guns pointed at the
four officers. "So, Lynda, I thought I'd be seeing you shortly." 

 "You knew I was alive?" 

 "Of course. I'm not stupid, you know." 

 "Too easy," the three Detective said. 

 Xavier pointed his gun right at Lynda. "Well, it's time to die. Any last
words?" 

 "Actually, yeah," Lynda said as she inched backwards. She kicked one of
the chairs over to the four men. It provided enough distraction for Lynda
and her partners to duck behind a large wall before a barrage of bullets
came at them with full force. 

 "Now what?" Ray asked. 

 Lynda pulled out her gun. "You guys ready to see how good I can shoot?" 

 "Lynda you can't take on all four of them," Stanley said. 

 "I know," Lynda replied before handing him her backup gun. "I assume you
know how to use it, Dad." 

 "Hey, what about us?" Ray whined slightly. 

 Lynda was never so glad to hear that whine. She smiled at Ray. "I have a
pocketknife, a lighter, and a lock picking set. Want to try your hands
with those?" 

 "I'll pass," Ray grumbled. 

 "On three, Lynda," Stanley said. "One." 

 "Two," Lynda took in a deep breath. 

 "Three." 

 Father and daughter aimed their guns around the wall and fired at Xavier
and his men. Two managed to go down quickly. 

 "Nice shooting," Fraser said. 

 "Thanks," Stanley and Lynda said together. 

 Lynda noticed Xavier running out of the room. She quickly loaded a fresh
clip into her gun. "Dad, cover me." 

 "You got it," Stanley said. He provided enough distraction for Lynda to
run after Xavier. 

 Her heart was pounding as she chased him out of the building and into an
alley. "Stop! Police! You're under arrest!" Xavier abruptly stopped in his
tracks, turned around, and fired his gun. The bullet hit in Lynda's upper
left chest. She fell to the ground and didn't move again. 

 Stanley had shot the fourth guy in the shoulder. While Fraser stayed
behind to tie them up, Stanley and Ray ran out of the building. They
looked around, then heard the single shot. They followed the noise into
the alley. That's when they saw Lynda lying on the ground. 

 "No!" Stanley shouted as he ran over and knelt beside his daughter. He
lifted her and gently cradled her in his arms as Ray watched helplessly.
"Come on, Lynda, wake up!" 

 "Come on, Lynda," Ray said as he took her hand in his. Fraser ran into
the alley, then ran over to the group. He held his breath as he saw Lynda
lying, not making any movement. He saw where the bullet hit her. He
lowered his head. 

 Stanley looked at her face, so still and unmoving. "She's gone," he said
quietly. 

 "Now, don't give up on me that quickly," Lynda said softly as she opened
her eyes and smiled weakly at her partners. 

 Stanley looked flabbergasted. "But . . . how?" 

 Lynda lifted her shirt. Not only was she wearing another one underneath,
but she also had a bulletproof vest on. "I grabbed one before coming over
. . . just in case." She tenderly rubbed the spot where the bullet nearly
hit her. "Man, it hurts like hell." 

 "That's usually what happens when you get shot," Stanley said as he
helped her to her feet. "Where's Xavier?" 

 "I don't know," Lynda replied. 

 "We'll go after him," Ray said, picking up Lynda's gun where she had
dropped it. 

 "I'm coming," Lynda said, taking her gun from Ray. "And don't try to stop
me." She hurried off to find Xavier. 

 Ray turned to his two friends. "That is definitely going to take some
getting used to." 

 "Definitely," Stanley and Fraser agreed. The three took off after Lynda. 

 Lynda rounded a corner and saw Xavier looking for a way out. "Freeze!
You're under arrest." Xavier turned around, seeing Lynda had her gun
pointed right at him. "Drop it, Chris, or I'll drop you. And don't think I
won't." 

 Xavier dropped his gun. "You think you're so tough," he sneered. "You can
hide behind that badge and gun. You couldn't face me in hand-to-hand
combat, just like you couldn't in the Academy." 

 Lynda glared at Xavier, before tossing her badge and gun aside. She
assumed a fighting stance. "Care to prove that?" 

 Xavier went into his fighting stance. "With pleasure," he said. He
charged Lynda, delivering a swift kick to her face. Lynda dodged it, then
delivered a roundhouse, but Xavier stepped aside, then hit Lynda in the
ribs. Lynda gritted her teeth and kept fighting. 

 Her partners heard the commotion, and followed it to the source. They saw
Lynda and Xavier fighting. All three of them felt a sense of deja vu,
remembering seeing those two in the Academy not too long ago. But they
knew that this was outside the classroom, and a lot more was at stake than
a good grade. They also knew that this was Lynda's fight, ans stayed out
of the way. 

 For fifteen minutes, the two fighters fought on equal terms. Then, Xavier
made the mistake of leaving himself open, and Lynda took full advantage of
it. She hit him with everything she had, and then some. Soon, Xavier was
lying on the ground. 

 "Like I said," Lynda replied as she pulled a set of handcuffs out of her
jacket. "You're under arrest." 

 While Lynda tended to her duties, the three turned around to see Derek
running up to them, both wolves in tow. 

 "Hi," he said breathlessly. 

 "What are you doing here?" Stanley asked. 

 "Regan and Diefenbaker told me Lynda came to this vicinity looking for
you three." He noticed their faces. "Man, you three don't make good
punching bags, you know that?" 

 "Tell us about it," Ray said. 

 Derek saw Lynda snapping the cuffs on Xavier. "So, that's Xavier, huh?" 

 "Yep," Stanley said. 

 Lynda started leading Xavier out of the alley back to her car when she
noticed Derek standing with her partners. "Oh, Derek. Look, I'm sorry I
ran out like that, but I wanted to get Xavier myself." The four walked
out, with Xavier being dragged by Lynda, and two wolves trotting beside
their masters. 

 "Oh, it's okay," Derek said. "Welsh wasn't too upset when we figured out
where you were." He looked a little sheepish. "And you four might want to
be careful. It's like a three-ring circus. Reporters and tv crews, and
such. And the FBI." 

 "Well, considering that's all here because this case if finally over,"
Lynda said, "I don't mind." 

 As soon as they left the alley, they were bombarded by reporters with
questions. Lots and lots of questions. Finally, Lynda ordered everyone
away, saying she would release an official statement the next day. 

 Xavier was driven in a patrol car to the 27th. Lynda covered up a yawn as
the car disappeared around a building and was out of sight. She was tired,
but she knew there was still a lot of stuff to do before the case would
finally be closed. Dealing with Xavier at Division was one of them. But
right now, there were other things to take care of. 

 She turned around and faced the four men behind her: her father, Ray,
Fraser, and Derek. "Well, I'm not a psychic, but I have a feeling that
Xavier is going to be going away for a long time." 

 Derek cleared his throat. "Since it's apparent that my help is no longer
needed, I'll be on my way." He nodded to the three men, then smiled at
Lynda. "Bye, Lynda." 

 "Bye," Lynda said. "Are you going to keep your promise?" 

 "I'll try," Derek said. "And you?" 

 "I'll try," Lynda replied before Derek walked away. 

 "So, you two were working together?" Ray asked. 

 "Yeah," Lynda answered. "Sort of." 

 "What promise?" Stanley asked suspiciously. 

 "Derek sent me a dozen red roses with a note saying 'Congratulations' on
it yesterday," Lynda explained. "I promised not to lose my temper around
him if he promised to stop sending me things until I make up my mind." 

 "Good luck," Stanley said. "For both you and him." He paused. "Hey,
nothing happened while you and Derek were working, right?" 

 "Right," Lynda lied. She hated deceiving her father, but there was no way
she was going to tell him about the kiss. 

 "Why did you make him promise not to send things?" Fraser asked. 

 "It made me really confused," Lynda replied. "I'm still trying to figure
out what to do about my relationship with him." 

 "You still haven't decided whether or not you're going to get back
together?" Ray asked. 

"Lynda, how long is it going to take?" 

 "Ray, it's more complicated than it seems," Lynda said gently. "I have to
decide whether or not I can ever trust him again. Trust is a pretty
important foundation for any relationship . . . even in a partnership."
She eyed them knowingly. 

 "Lynda, we want to apologize," Stanley said, knowing exactly what his
daughter was getting at. "We had no right to get mad at you when you made
your first arrest." 

 "Three arrests," Lynda and Fraser said together. 

 "Whatever," Stanley shrugged his shoulders. "All I'm saying is that we're
really sorry." 

 "Yeah," Ray nodded. 

 "But why get mad in the first place?" Lynda asked. "I just don't
understand." 

 "When you made your arrests," Stanley explained, "you did it without any
help from us. Kinda opened our eyes, letting us know that we won't always
be there if you're in trouble. And I always want to be there for you. I
couldn't handle it if anything happened to you." 

 "Just like I couldn't handle it if anything happened to any of you guys,"
Lynda said. "But we know that realistically speaking, there will be times
when one or more of us won't be there. I know that because I was basically
on my own while trying to find you three." She took in a deep breath. "But
you three were still there for me." 

 "How so?" Fraser asked. 

 "Well, everything you three taught me helped me," Lynda replied. "I used
Ray's gift to jimmy open some locks to get into certain places, the
lighter you gave me Dad helped me put away Klein for a long time. Don't
worry, I'll explain later." 

 "And what about Fraser?" Ray asked. "What, did you taste anything?" Lynda
blushed. 

The Detectives' faces contorted in extreme disgust. "Eww! That is so
gross, Lynda! Now we have another one to deal with." 

 "So, what did you end up tasting," Fraser asked curiously. 

 "C-four and perchloric acid," Lynda said. "Jack, Tom, and I wouldn't be
here if I hadn't." 

 Stanley shook his head. He knew it was definitely going to take some
getting used to. "So, you forgive us?" 

 Lynda smiled. "Apology accepted." She embraced her partners in a
three-way hug. "Promise me you guys won't get kidnapped again?" 

 "We'll try our best," Fraser smiled. 

 Lynda chuckled. "How about we get back to Division? I have a suspect that
needs interrogation." 

 "You know, I never thought I would see the day when I would be happy to
hear those words," Stanley said. He put an arm around his daughter. "Let's
go, shall we?" 

 "Let's shall," Lynda smiled. She linked arms with her father and Ray,
while Ray linked arms with Fraser. Together with the wolves, as a team
once more, they headed over to Lynda's car, ignoring the commotion around
them.  

* * * *  

 When the four walked into the Squad Room, applause thundered loudly.
Never had the other Detectives been so happy to see those four. Francesca
looked up from her desk to see her brother. Smiling through her tears, she
jumped up and went to hug him. "Don't ever scare me like that again," she
said as she hugged him tightly around the neck. 

 "Hi, Frannie," Ray smiled, hugging his sister tight. 

 Thatcher and Turnbull welcomed Fraser, delighted to have him back safely,
even if Turnbull was the only one who showed it. "I expect you to take a
few days off," was all that Thatcher would say before she and Turnbull
left to return to the Consulate. 

 Welsh walked out of his office and over to the group. "I hate to
interrupt this little get together," he said with in his usual tone of
voice. "But I have a suspect that has just been delivered. Lynda, I
believe he's your suspect." 

 "Goody," Lynda grinned. "Fresh meat." She eyed her partners and smiled.
"Care to see me 'talk' to Xavier?" 

 "Sure," Ray said. "I know you'll have him crying like a baby by the time
you're done." 

 "Already did that with Klein," Lynda said before walking off to interview
her suspect.  

* * * *  

 After Lynda was done with Xavier, who proved to be no match for the young
Detective's quick wit and sharp tongue, she went outside to meet with her
partners and superior. The three previously abducted officers were chowing
down on warm Chinese food - provided for them by Francesca - and drinking
hot tea. The two wolves sat nearby, hoping to catch something if it fell.
Lynda joined them. 

 "Hey, that's ours," Ray said as Lynda took an egg roll and dipped it in
sweet and sour sauce before eating it. "We haven't eaten in over a day." 

 "Hey, I saved your butts," Lynda retorted. "And neither have I." She
stifled a yawn and stretched. "Man, I'm so glad this mess is over." She
eyed her father's plate. "Ooh, is that beef and broccoli?" 

 "Don't even think about it," Stanley warned as he hugged his plate closer
to him. "It's mine." 

 Welsh approached the group. "Kowalski, Vecchio, Constable, may I have a
word with you in my office?" 

 "Lynda, touch my food, and lose your hands," Stanley warned, putting his
plate on his desk. 

 "And no more egg rolls," Ray said as he grabbed the remaining rolls and
stuffed them in his jacket. 

 With Welsh leading them, the three went into Welsh's office. The door was
shut, and Welsh sat down at his desk. He looked at the three standing
before him. He cleared his throat. "First, I would like to welcome you
three back. While you annoy the hell out of me and probably everyone who
works here, things wouldn't be the same without any of you." 

 "Thank you kindly, Leftenant," Fraser smiled. 

 "Thanks, Sir," Ray said surprised. 

 "Yeah, thanks," Stanley replied. 

 "And I know that you three will be taking a couple of days off," Welsh
added. "In fact, I'm demanding it. But that's not why you're here. I want
to talk about your new partner and what happened a couple of days ago,
involving all of you. Now, I don't want to know the reason behind your
argument - Lord knows I always end up regretting it when I ask - and I
don't 

care. But I do need to know if you can work with each other. 

 "Lynda has proven that she can do this when she was working on finding
you," Welsh continued. "I have never seen anyone more dedicated to finding
someone than I have with her. She refused to sleep or eat. She even was
reluctant to go home and get cleaned up after the explosion, but Agent
Laramie was able to persuade her otherwise." 

 "Wait, he and my daughter were alone together in her apartment?" 

 "Detective, grow up," Welsh said wearily. "The point I'm making is that
Lynda can do this job. The question is, will you be able to work alongside
her, or am I going to have to let her continue to work alone?" 

 "Sir, we've already discussed this with Lynda," Stanley explained. "We're
ready to start working together." 

 "Good," Welsh said. "Now, go get some rest. I expect you see all of you
in here in two days." 

 "Yes, Sir," the three replied before leaving. They walked out and over to
Stanley's desk, then stopped when they saw the sight before them. Amongst
the two wolves who were chowing down on the leftover Chinese food was
Lynda. She was resting her head on her arms, sleeping soundly. They
quietly approached the desk. 

 "So, now what?" Ray asked quietly. 

 "Well, we could bang something loudly on the desk," Stanley said. "Wake
her up, shock her heart rate up. Course, anyone who even thinks about
doing that is going to get his head kicked in." He motioned Francesca
over. "Hey, Frannie, can you get a blanket?" 

 "Sure," the brunette smiled before leaving. She returned a few moments
later with a blanket. 

 "Thanks," Stanley replied. He took the blanket and carefully covered his
daughter up with it. Than, with the help of Ray and Fraser, he cleaned up
the food mess on his desk. Then he slumped into a chair beside his desk,
put his head on the desk, then fell asleep. Ray and Fraser went over to
Ray's desk where they promptly fell asleep. Dief curled up at his master's
feet, while Regan stayed with Lynda. 

 Welsh came out of his office to see the four humans and wolves. He
smiled, then went back into his office to take care of some paperwork.	 

THE END   

* * * *  

 When the four walked into the Squad Room, applause thundered loudly.
Never had the other Detectives been so happy to see those four. Francesca
looked up from her desk to see her brother. Smiling through her tears, she
jumped up and went to hug him. "Don't ever scare me like that again," she
said as she hugged him tightly around the neck. 

 "Hi, Frannie," Ray smiled, hugging his sister tight. 

 Thatcher and Turnbull welcomed Fraser, delighted to have him back safely,
even if Turnbull was the only one who showed it. "I expect you to take a
few days off," was all that Thatcher would say before she and Turnbull
left to return to the Consulate. 

 Welsh walked out of his office and over to the group. "I hate to
interrupt this little get together," he said with in his usual tone of
voice. "But I have a suspect that has just been delivered. Lynda, I
believe he's your suspect." 

 "Goody," Lynda grinned. "Fresh meat." She eyed her partners and smiled.
"Care to see me 'talk' to Xavier?" 

 "Sure," Ray said. "I know you'll have him crying like a baby by the time
you're done." 

 "Already did that with Klein," Lynda said before walking off to interview
her suspect.  

* * * *  

 After Lynda was done with Xavier, who proved to be no match for the young
Detective's quick wit and sharp tongue, she went outside to meet with her
partners and superior. The three previously abducted officers were chowing
down on warm Chinese food - provided for them by Francesca - and drinking
hot tea. The two wolves sat nearby, hoping to catch something if it fell.
Lynda joined them. 

 "Hey, that's ours," Ray said as Lynda took an egg roll and dipped it in
sweet and sour sauce before eating it. "We haven't eaten in over a day." 

 "Hey, I saved your butts," Lynda retorted. "And neither have I." She
stifled a yawn and stretched. "Man, I'm so glad this mess is over." She
eyed her father's plate. "Ooh, is that beef and broccoli?" 

 "Don't even think about it," Stanley warned as he hugged his plate closer
to him. "It's mine." 

 Welsh approached the group. "Kowalski, Vecchio, Constable, may I have a
word with you in my office?" 

 "Lynda, touch my food, and lose your hands," Stanley warned, putting his
plate on his desk. 

 "And no more egg rolls," Ray said as he grabbed the remaining rolls and
stuffed them in his jacket. 

 With Welsh leading them, the three went into Welsh's office. The door was
shut, and Welsh sat down at his desk. He looked at the three standing
before him. He cleared his throat. "First, I would like to welcome you
three back. While you annoy the hell out of me and probably everyone who
works here, things wouldn't be the same without any of you." 

 "Thank you kindly, Leftenant," Fraser smiled. 

 "Thanks, Sir," Ray said surprised. 

 "Yeah, thanks," Stanley replied. 

 "And I know that you three will be taking a couple of days off," Welsh
added. "In fact, I'm demanding it. But that's not why you're here. I want
to talk about your new partner and what happened a couple of days ago,
involving all of you. Now, I don't want to know the reason behind your
argument - Lord knows I always end up regretting it when I ask - and I
don't 

care. But I do need to know if you can work with each other. 

 "Lynda has proven that she can do this when she was working on finding
you," Welsh continued. "I have never seen anyone more dedicated to finding
someone than I have with her. She refused to sleep or eat. She even was
reluctant to go home and get cleaned up after the explosion, but Agent
Laramie was able to persuade her otherwise." 

 "Wait, he and my daughter were alone together in her apartment?" 

 "Detective, grow up," Welsh said wearily. "The point I'm making is that
Lynda can do this job. The question is, will you be able to work alongside
her, or am I going to have to let her continue to work alone?" 

 "Sir, we've already discussed this with Lynda," Stanley explained. "We're
ready to start working together." 

 "Good," Welsh said. "Now, go get some rest. I expect you see all of you
in here in two days." 

 "Yes, Sir," the three replied before leaving. They walked out and over to
Stanley's desk, then stopped when they saw the sight before them. Amongst
the two wolves who were chowing down on the leftover Chinese food was
Lynda. She was resting her head on her arms, sleeping soundly. They
quietly approached the desk. 

 "So, now what?" Ray asked quietly. 

 "Well, we could bang something loudly on the desk," Stanley said. "Wake
her up, shock her heart rate up. Course, anyone who even thinks about
doing that is going to get his head kicked in." He motioned Francesca
over. "Hey, Frannie, can you get a blanket?" 

 "Sure," the brunette smiled before leaving. She returned a few moments
later with a blanket. 

 "Thanks," Stanley replied. He took the blanket and carefully covered his
daughter up with it. Then, with the help of Ray and Fraser, he cleaned up
the food mess on his desk. Then he slumped into a chair beside his desk,
put his head on the desk, then fell asleep. Ray and Fraser went over to
Ray's desk where they promptly fell asleep. Dief curled up at his master's
feet, while Regan stayed with Lynda. 

 Welsh came out of his office to see the four humans and wolves. He
smiled, then went back into his office to take care of some paperwork.	 

THE END