Page 245 of Golden Eagle

42

Trina knew she needed sleep; she was reaching that point of exhaustion when the jitters kicked in and sleep sounded impossible – but she would need rest before tonight.

They made slow progress toward the precinct, on foot. Lanny had taken her hand a few blocks ago, and she’d laced their fingers together and held on. If they happened upon a colleague who saw that kind of fraternization – well, it wouldn’t matter for long. Jamie and Kolya tailed them like two lost lambs; Trina was glad for their presence, for the reminder – this wasn’t just about career paths and societal acceptability anymore. It was about family. Her strange, ever-expanding, occasionally blood-drinking family.

They were nearly there when her knees started to tremble; all of her did, if the way Lanny squeezed her hand and steered her to the side was any indication. They stood outside an antique and oddities shop, one with merchandise arranged out on the sidewalk. There was an old iron bench beneath the shop’s awning, price tag fluttering in the breeze. Lanny urged her down onto it, and then sat beside her.

“Second thoughts?” he asked.

“No.” That wasn’t a lie, this was just – a lot.

Before Nik and Sasha had come into their lives – been dragged in, via Val’s meddling, really – she’d never done anything…irrevocable. Now she’d killed, multiple times, and she was about to throw her entire career away.

Not without cause.

But. Still.

“We’re doing the right thing,” she said, watching cars crawl past. A retirement-age couple happened along and exclaimed over an old globe. “And, really…I don’t want to keep my job if it means I’m having to ignore the terrible things happening right under our noses. But…”

“It’s a big step,” he said, leaning his shoulder into hers.

“Yeah.”

She turned to gauge his expression, found him oddly placid, expression pleasant, and unbothered. “You’re not going to regret it, are you?”

He smiled wide enough to flash his fangs. “Little late for me to regret things, babe.”

They stood and continued on.

Jamie agreed to wait out front of the precinct and keep an eye on Kolya – “But don’t take too long,” he said, uneasily.

Trina looked up at the familiar façade of the building, took one last deep breath, and let go of Lanny’s hand. They went up the staircase together, even when it would have been polite to shift over out of someone’s way.

A few other detectives called greetings as they passed through the bullpen, but they were hesitant, and oddly removed. Because she was still under IAB investigation? Or because they could sense something in their energy now? A resolution that would take them away from the force, and this world of coffee, badges, interrogations, and long nights spent at back-killing desks.

“Detective Webb.” Garcia approached, sheaf of files clutched to his chest, a little frantic. “I pulled some files to–”

“Not now, kid,” Lanny said, not unkindly. “Go back to your desk and I’ll find you in a bit,” he lied.

Abbot was in his office; they could hear him getting red-faced with someone over the phone through the door and the blinds-covered windows.

Trina inhaled.

“Last chance to change your mind,” Lanny said.

“Shut up,” she said on the exhale, and knocked.

Abbot muttered something unintelligible, and then shouted, “Come in!”

In her years as a detective, Trina had tried to tell herself that her captain wasn’t a walking, talking cliché from every cop movie ever. But the truth of the matter was that he was; it didn’t seem conscious, either.

He sat now slumped in the chair behind his desk; he occupied most chairs like a lump of melting ice cream, rather than as someone with a functional spine. His facewasindeed red. “I don’t give a shit,” he said into the phone. “It’s not my job to sell subscriptions, I’ve got murders to fucking solve.” He hung up viciously, the voice on the other end still chattering when the receiver hit the cradle. He was scowling when he glanced up at them, and then the scowl deepened when he recognized them. “Shit, what do you two want?”

Trina felt a sudden, unexpected flash of pity for him. His job was largely thankless, and he’d been doing it a long time; a job that slowly ground people down to the bone, until they were exhausted not just in body, but in spirit, too. She didn’t envy what he would have to do, going forward, the choices he’d have to make.

But she had her own choices, and they were important.

She sat down across from him uninvited, while Lanny closed the door, and then took the chair beside her. “Sir,” she said, and something in her tone arrested his expression; his scowl melted away. “We know who’s been mutilating the victims. And we want you to know that we’re going to handle it – Lanny and I. We’ve got it under control.”

---