Catherine sighed, flopping back in her office chair.  She’d pulled another double helping put out fires in the city, and her wife had been right in the thick of it.  At least she had ceased her ranting about not getting to shoot the perps.  Even if she had been in the right of it, that wasn’t a video they needed to leak. 

The entire situation was a complete disaster in every term, from the destroyed business to the devastated apartments across the street.  She’d sent Linda to help with the investigation there just to get her out of the office and keep her busy.  It was a shameless distraction from her complaints, but it seemed to be working.

Her wife could be a right menace, but damn it all she loved her. 

Now if only she could figure out how to handle Ashe, or more accurately, her girlfriend Crystal.  She believed them when they said nothing was happening between them yet, Crystal seemed adamant about that to a degree that wasn’t faked.  That didn’t mean the girl wasn’t hiding secrets, just that she held priorities. 

She and Linda worked out the shooting range as a sort of double date to get a better read on the girl, and if they managed to put a bit of fear in her, all the better.  It was their own take on the shotgun speech, and they had nailed it.  They just hadn’t expected Crystal to nearly be their match. 

The girl moved with the grace of someone who had intensive training, or practical experience.  Given her father was the now presidential hopeful, Theodore Ellington, it wasn’t a surprise that his daughter could handle herself.  The man was militant, and everyone knew he all but commanded the Iron Patriots, he would ensure his progeny could take care of themselves. 

That didn’t explain all of it, not by a long shot. 

Crystal carried herself like what she saw among the criminals they would arrest.  She was streetwise, and while Catherine didn’t want to jump to conclusions, it did speak of there being something unsavory.  Ashe once mentioned that Crystal was disowned, had she been forced onto the streets as a result? 

Had she chosen the streets in favor of an abusive home? 

Crystal hadn’t blinked at killing, Linda had looked into the girl’s eyes following the attempted kidnapping and saw no conflict or remorse for what she had done.  The girl had killed before, that much was clear, and she didn’t judge her victim as worthy of her pity.  That would have been concerning, and a valid reason to have her brought in for questioning, but they hadn’t. 

Because they owed her for saving Ashe’s life.

So, even if she had a criminal past, they looked the other way.  Ashe had become dejected following the investigations being stalled by lawyers and the suspects making bail.  It wasn’t a surprise that Ashe reached back out to the girl that had saved her in that alley, and after a short talk, she and Linda allowed it if it meant that it helped Ashe recover. 

Then Ashe continued to see the girl, and a spark returned to her eyes.  She had drive and motivation again, for the first time since she started her transition.  As much as Catherine worried, there was no way she could deny Ashe from seeing her.  She would be eighteen in mere months, they had little authority left if she decided to rebel. 

When Daniel Lowell was brought in, she thought they finally had some good news.  He would need a hospital stay, but by violating the terms of his bond, they could hold him until trial.  Then someone slipped up, and a damn hospice patient killed the man before he made it back to gen pop.  Linda had put the man down with prejudice, and justifiably so.  The investigation into her use of force was closed out within the day.  It was obviously a hit, and the man who did it was someone who should have never had the opportunity he did.  Investigations into that were still ongoing, but they didn’t expect results.  

Results were never forthcoming when the Patriots were involved.  There were too many of them in the police for any of the investigations to be taken seriously, and there was a good chance an officer allowed the hit simply because Ashe was family.  That wasn’t as likely, given nobody had given any indication, but it wouldn’t be the first time extrajudicial actions happened when officers and their families were involved.  If so, could she really punish them for it?  No, a slap on the wrist and leave with pay would be all she did if that was the case. 

And now, the lone surviving assailant had his place of employment put to the torch.  That wasn’t a coincidence, Catherine didn’t believe in those.  What was of concern was the considerable collateral that came from it.  Linda would be checking things in person, to report back to her what didn’t make it on the official reports.  She wanted answers, and she would get them. 

At least Ashe wouldn’t be alone for the night, though she suspected her daughter was just looking for an excuse to stay the night with Crystal again.  Allowing that was a bit of a gamble, but following Linda’s record setting run, having their daughter at home would have hampered their celebratory activities. 

Trust.  They had to trust that they raised Ashe right, that if Crystal tried to pressure her into unsavory activities, that Ashe would know better than to go along with it.  They couldn’t shelter her forever, and like it or not, Ashe was now an adult.  Even if Crystal wasn’t the best of choices, when it came down to it, she’d give her a chance, because Ashe would either find someone important, or learn a life lesson.

Catherine sighed, reaching for her cup only to find it empty.  She nearly growled, getting up and making her way to the breakroom.  Fortunately there was a fresh pot of coffee just finishing up the brewing cycle.  Kendall was sitting there, his own cup in hand.  The man looked as exhausted as most of the force seemed to be, and she couldn’t blame him.  He and Reynolds had been some of the first on the scene after all. 

“Hey boss, fresh pot,” he said, gesturing to the coffee maker.

“You’re a lifesaver, Kendall,” Catherine said, waiting a moment before refilling her cup and adding some heavy cream and sugar.  Most people would have assumed her taste in coffee to be strong and black, but that was Linda’s thing.  Catherine liked hers sweet.  “Heard it was a shitshow out there tonight.” 

“Reynolds is in the ER,” he said softly, “with a shoulder wound.  He was caught in the crossfire while those maniacs were flying down the culvert.” 

Catherine winced, shoulder wounds could be nasty.  Reynolds might not have been her favorite person on the force, but he was still one of her officers.  She would need to set aside some time to go see him in the coming days and make sure all his leave paperwork was completed.  That also meant the overtime load would be just that much more of a burden on the other officers. 

“Hopefully Lin can find a lead at the scene,” Catherine said softly.  “They’re also searching the canal for brass from the perp’s gun.” 

“Good luck with that,” Kendall grumbled.  “The canals are nothing but muck and pissed off gators after those two tore through there.  You’ll get better results from the scene, given the reports of shots being fired from the residents nearby.” 

“We can only hope,” she agreed.  “I sent Linda to the scene to help the investigators, I’m sure she’s giving them an earful about how she was seconds from stopping them.  If she put that sort of effort into moving her tongue in the bedroom, I’d be seconds away too.” 

Kendall snorted, coffee dripping from his nose as he coughed.  Catherine took pity on the man and passed him a napkin.  Tears were welling up in his eyes as he wiped away the mess, muttering curses under his breath even as he fought to hide a smile.  After seeing his partner shot, he probably needed the laugh. 

She just had to hope the media circus was kept to a minimum, the local stations were already billing the woman in red as Inferno, which was the last thing they needed.  Worse, there was reasonable speculation that the other woman in blue was Riptide who was wanted on dozens of charges going back almost five years. 

Fanning the flames of their street fame was not something she liked to see, but keeping the media from playing along was a losing battle.  They thrived on controversy and shock value, and flashy names unfortunately were a part of that.  It was why monsters like Ripsaw and Headhunter had a cult of personality around them. 

How she wished to put all of them away and bring that stupid trend to an abrupt end. 

Unfortunately, she had to be the bearer of some bad news.  “We have reports that the motorcycle was a distraction.  Apparently one of the news crews spotted a white van departing moments after the grenades were fired.” 

“Fucking fantastic,” he grumbled.  “What else did we miss?  Did the joker get away too?”

She shook her head, “Given we have costumed terrorists with flashy names, he may as well have.” 

“I miss the days when all we had were bangers that sat on corners and acted tough,” Kendall said, leaning back to look up at the ceiling.  “What happened to this city?” 

Catherine nursed her coffee, already planning to top it off before returning to her office.  “Some asshole back in the sixties thought it would be cute to send coded messages with newspaper clippings and everyone called them Enigma.  The trend spread like wildfire from there with every two bit ganger trying to make names for themselves, right up until the Storm Guard did the same.” 

“I really wish that was illegal,” Kendall grumbled.  “Giving monsters fame like that.” 

“Makes it easier to stick them with charges though,” she said with a shrug.  

It was a concession she hated to admit, but it was true.  This individual would leverage their new name as Inferno for reputation, and when they managed to arrest them, everything would stick once they pinned a name to that identity.  Enigma had proven that, a simple traffic stop being their undoing, he died while serving a life sentence in Otter Creek Correctional Institution.

“Captain Hamilton.” 

She turned to the doorway, one of her sergeants standing there with a tablet in hand.  

“Report.” 

He walked inside with purpose and set the tablet in front of her.  An image was on screen of a slightly burned out room, but one thing stood out.  A stained mattress, with cheap curtains framing it.  At first she thought it was some sort of field station or hospital, then she started thumbing through the pictures only to pause on a wastebasket full of blood crusted condoms. 

“What is this?” she demanded, all emotion having fled her voice. 

“Upstairs of the building that exploded across the street from the pawn shop,” he said.  “More-so, they discovered a tunnel connecting the buildings.  We think it was a human trafficking front.” 

“Son of a bitch,” she cursed.  “I’ll get Homeland Security on this, start prepping all the appropriate reports.  This just got a lot more complicated.” 

“The joys of the job,” he agreed.  “Don’t work yourself into an early grave.  You’re the best Captain I’ve had, I’d hate to see you on forced medical leave for collapsing.” 

“It’s a race between my daughter and my job for which will see me into that early grave,” she answered, trying for levity but it just sounded tired even to her own ears.  “I’ll get everything together before passing it onto the next shift.  Keep me updated.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a sharp nod before returning back to the main offices. 

Catherine didn’t even try to put up a front as she slumped down onto the table.  Idly, she continued to flick her way through the pictures, the implications clear.  There had been women held captive, their bodies used and sold.  Worse, those women were nowhere to be found.  Whoever was responsible for this assault had taken the girls in addition to the drugs and weapons that they sought. 

They needed more information, to find who had owned those buildings.  All residents, employees and so on would need to be questioned for what they knew.  It would make for a good excuse to bring Jack Henson back in for holding, he would need protection, he may even welcome it.  So much needed to be done and in short order, yet she was already coming up on fourteen hours worked.  

Linda should be back from her time on the scene soon, and then they could get home and crash for a few hours before getting right back to it.  It was often a thankless job, what with the anti-police sentiment brewing nationwide.  Yet another reason she risked being a lesbian in Florida, they backed the blue despite that. 

Sighing, she stood.  “Take tomorrow off, Kendall.  Go see Reynolds if you can, maybe smuggle him something that isn’t bland hospital food.” 

“I can do that,” he answered with a soft smile.  “Sergeant Nokes was right, you know?” 

She raised a tired, yet inquisitive, eyebrow.  “About what?” 

“You’re the best Captain we have.  Don’t let the bureaucracy get to you.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, dryly.

When she walked away, there was a smile tugging at her lips.  She might have a case growing more grim with every discovery brewing in her lap, but it was good to know that her people had her back and respected her.  She’d come a long way from being a no name beat cop that everyone looked down upon due to her haircut and take no shit attitude. 

“Cat!” her wife yelled, hurrying across the mess of cubicles that made up their office space. 

“Lin,” she greeted her, not wanting to cause a scene.  “Debrief in my office?” 

“That’s a word for it,” Kendall said, stepping past her before bowing his head slightly to her wife.  “Take care, Linda.  She’s in a mood.” 

“I’ll manage,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “Did you see the photos?” 

“I did,” she answered, walking back to her office.  “It’s quite the mess, isn’t it?” 

“It’s worse in person,” Linda said, her voice dark and tinged with anger.  “Whoever those girls were, they were just stolen from one gang by another.  They must be scared shitless.” 

She could imagine it.  There were enough beds to suggest they had multiple women ‘working’ there, and just the thought of it sickened her.  As bad as it sounded, she hoped the rumors of Riptide working closely with the Viuda were somewhat true.  They might practice prostitution, but they at least looked after their girls. 

“What of this tunnel?” she asked, taking her seat once more.  “This isn’t West Virginia, you can’t just dig through the ground given the entire state is a sandbar.” 

“It’s part of the old support structure,” Linda said.  “Recently redone, but professionally.  We’re going to have to pull permits, find the contractors, it’s going to be a lot of research and legwork.” 

“At least it won’t be us doing it,” Catherine said.  “I pity the investigators and detectives that get assigned to it.” 

“Assuming they aren’t on the take,” Linda muttered.  Catherine glared at her with tired eyes, but it was difficult to be truly upset.  “You know I’m right.” 

She’d seen more than a few iron cross tattoos on fellow officers, even their Chief of Police had one.  She’d seen it almost a decade prior during a dunking booth event for the local schools.  Reynolds had twin lightning bolts hidden in a banner on his arm for a fallen officer who didn’t even try to hide the swastika on his chest. 

The worst part was, their department was a laughing stock across the nation because of it, and the state laws had enshrined Nazi beliefs as a full blown religion, they couldn’t be touched.  That had come to pass during the last year of then Governor Ellington’s term, his last act before joining the Senate.  Of course, he had done it more discreetly than shouting that he was backing Nazism.  In the end, that law protected LGBT beliefs as well, as the law also allowed other obscure religions to gain ground. 

She couldn’t imagine the man was all too pleased by that turn of events, and it was what ultimately allowed her and Linda to adopt Ashe and stay in their careers.  In a way, he had helped them all, it was the best kind of ironic, and part of why so many denounced Ashe when everything came to light. 

“We can worry about it tomorrow,” Catherine said.  “Ashe is staying with Crystal tonight.” 

“Fifty bucks says they will move in together as soon as Ashe graduates,” Linda said. 

Catherine laughed.  “Sucker’s bet, barring something major.” 

“Like her father getting involved?” she whispered. 

“Or our worries about how the girl survived the streets,” Linda said, equally quiet.  “She’s either going to be the best thing that happened to Ashe, or break her for years to come.  That scares the piss out of me, Cat.  I don’t want our baby girl to get hurt.” 

“Nor I,” she agreed.  “Forcing them apart would just drive Ashe deeper into her arms.  This is one of those things we just have to trust our daughter to navigate on her own.” 

“We’ll still be there for her, regardless,” Linda said with conviction, brokering no argument. 

Not that she would ever dream of it. 

“That we will, Lin.”

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