"What makes you want to be an FBI Agent?" she continued, glancing at me from beside the second body of a man with a similar cause of death. The medical examiner placed the time of death less than an hour ago thanks to the house alarm that alerted the station of an intruder. Rubble lay around the victims—glass, wood, anything and everything the intruders could smash.
"Protecting the community on a larger scale. Better equipment and resources. Catching the bad guys just the same." I stood from my position and gestured for the photographer to snap a few photos. I made my way from the living room toward the stairs and followed the trail of blood along the gray carpet. Angelina accompanied, both of us remaining gloved.
"When do you meet with Donovan?" she asked, nodding toward the few remaining photographs on the wall of the family who lost their lives. Some of the frame fragments covered the stairs, while others dangled from the wall.
"Tomorrow. Mira and I are talking with my siblings tonight." I paused when one of the photographs appeared almost identical to another. "Why do you think they have two photos of the same kid hung up like that?"
"Spread apart?" She shrugged. "Not sure."
"God, I hate when it's kids," I said, pausing while I surveyed the pictures.
"Stop staring then." She gestured toward the wall.
"Wait…let's look at this." At the top of the stairs, a pile of glass and broken frames littered the landing. Most of the pictures were torn or upside down with the force of their destruction. Whoever was here, carried rage with them. I crouched down, and carefully tugged the largest intact photo free of the debris. A tattered family portrait revealed the man and woman each holding a girl in their lap, with a young boy standing between them. The boy must've been around ten, and the girls, almost identical, about five. "How many bodies do we have?"
"They said family. I think four," answered Angelina.
My heart pounded in my chest as I examined the picture again before calling down the stairs. "McCarthy, what's the body count?"
"Four, Detective." He looked up from the clipboard he held while speaking to Moreno.
My heart slammed in my chest and Moreno's brow narrowed when he met my gaze. "Five." I nearly gasped out the word. "There should be five." I held up the family picture then bolted up the stairs.
Everyone in the house erupted with movement. Voices shouted commands, and feet raced behind us as we rushed through the rooms.
"Oh my God, Billie," Angelina said, grabbing my arm. "They must've thought—how could they have not noticed?"
"Shh." I held my hand out in front of her when I hurried into one of the bedrooms.
The body of the boy lay fallen across the blue and green bedspread of a twin bed with C.S.I. and Sorensen hovering over him. I fought hard to keep my emotions at bay, the thoughts and anger that accompanied them as well.
I swung around, returning to the hall until I pushed open the door to the bedroom with pink walls. In that room, a double bed sat in the center, with the body of one of the girls in the middle of it. The medical examiner and her team crowded around her, their eyes wide when I bustled in.
"Two girls," I blurted out. "There's two."
"What?" Ainsley handed off an evidence bag to one of the other women before she approached.
"Twins. There are two girls in this family." My breath hitched and the pounding flock of people that followed us arrived at the bedroom door.
"Olsen, what—" Moreno pushed his way inside, his face ashen like I hadn't seen before when I shoved the photo against his chest.
"Twins," was all I could muster up before. "We need to search."
"This could be a kidnapping."
That was all that we needed to say before hurried feet bustled about. Angelina pulled open the closet, shoving clothes aside while one of the patrol officers looked under the bed.
"Other rooms. Go," ordered Moreno.
I hurried around the bed, knocking through a pile of stuffed animals in the corner. On my way back, I noted the blood stains on the carpet appeared to be leading in two directions; toward the bed and dresser. Without a second thought about contaminating the scene, I jerked open the top drawers, only to find clothes and socks. The second batch rendered a similar outcome. Only when I made to pull the bottom right drawer open did the weight of it lead me to cry out. Angelina dropped to her knees beside me, and the two of us wriggled the drawer free.
We pulled it toward us, and inside we found our missing girl. Blood covered her pink nightgown, and splattered across her cheek. She lay curled in a fetal position, her head to her knees. My heart shattered in my chest and I couldn't stop myself from laying hands on her. The shock of warmth struck me and I shouted. "She's alive!"
"Shit. Get a bus!" Angelina shouted, and I lifted the girl from the drawer, laying her flat on the ground. Her eyelashes fluttered when I checked her weak, thready pulse.
Ainsley pushed us aside, dropping to the floor to tend to the girl. She said nothing, but she moved so fast that I could hardly comprehend what she was doing. In one fleeting moment, a pair of murky brown eyes peeked up at me, and the sensation of melting ice cascaded down my spine.
EMTs bustled in, and Angelina dragged me away from the scene. We stood by, horrified by the events that happened in that home. Moreno stood beside us, his face angry and blanched at the same time. Angelina, as stoic as ever, kept a firm, protective grip on my elbow. I couldn't hold on to myself as well as she could in the moment, and I cleared the lump in my throat.
The EMTs did something, but Ainsley disagreed with them, shoving them aside and digging through their bags. She grabbed a needle and a small vial of something, then jabbed whatever it was directly into the girl's sternum. I watched as the second EMT applied pressure to a gunshot wound to her stomach, and almost immediately after, they had her on a gurney, racing her from the room.
I tore my gaze away when they disappeared down the stairs, and stepped free of my colleagues. Anger boiled my blood, and I stormed my way out of the scene toward McCarthy who remained at his post downstairs.
"Who was the first on scene?" I demanded.
"Me, ma'am." He stammered after. "And Rosen."
"Next time you secure a scene, McCarthy, make sure you figure out who lives in the fucking house first." I spat as I stood nose to nose with him. His brow narrowed, eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought he would shove me away. Instead, his lips pursed and he stared straight ahead, avoiding my gaze.
"Yes, ma'am."
I broke away from him, adjusted my jacket, and headed back to the crowd of cruisers in the driveway.
"Olsen," Moreno called out as he caught up to me. "What's you're theory?"
"Don't you have your own?" I asked, snatching some paperwork from the hands of the grunt that offered it to me.
"I do. What's yours?" He came to stand in front of me, folding his arms.
"Bashed personal items like pictures and trinkets, the wife murdered first, hesitation with the children, clearly." I signed off on the evidence and handed it back to the uniformed officer. "Female suspect. Crime of passion. Maybe he wouldn't leave his family for her. Maybe she was obsessed with him. But female."
"Good. Because we've got an unidentified woman on one of those camera doorbells from a house two doors down." He pointed in that direction, and tossed me a sardonic smirk.
"Let's go."
***
Mira stood in her most comfortable place, at the head of the classroom, demanding the attention of dozens. With her ankles crossed and hands in her pockets, she leaned against the desk while lecturing about Covariant Kinematics as indicated by the writing on the blackboard. I assumed, by the age and seriousness of the class, that I'd waltzed into one of her advanced classes or graduate classes. As always, I took a seat in the back and the smirked that tugged the corner of her crimson lips brought a calming wave to my erratic core. The cuffed sleeves of her white blouse and black trousers had me staring at her with permission today, more so than ever. I always admired her o
utfits, especially when she wore them in front of a class.
I tried to keep my feelings in check, and ignore the texts coming in on my phone. Angelina sent me updates, which didn't offer much information yet as she took the lead in writing up the reports today to save me the added task. All I could think about, all I could see was the brown eyes of a dying girl.
Mira's lecture lasted almost an hour, and I busied myself by admiring her physique. My mind wandered to her soccer games, which would start again in a week, and to how her muscles moved when she ran. The words she spoke to me on the beach echoed in my mind, and the way she told me she loved me while breathing it against my ear. Our feet, in the cold ocean water while we gazed at the Milky Way and the crescent moon as they glowed in the sky above us, was a welcome memory to quell my dismay.
In my palm, I held the keychain she made for me, a replica of a uranium atom, the element that brought us together in the first place, where she affixed the key to our apartment. Or soon to be anyway. All of this together, coupled with her soothing voice in the first place I found solace in her, brought my heartbeat back to normal. I watched as she wrote a series of equations on the blackboard that nearly covered the entire thing. For once, not understanding a lick of it soothed me in a way. It turned off my brain, and I didn't have to think.
"And that's all we have for today," she said, almost abruptly. "I expect complete assignments timely by Thursday." She waved the class off and a few of them grumbled while packing up.
In typical fashion, I waited them out until the classroom cleared. Mira stood at the front, leaning against the desk again with a broad smile. "Hi, love," she said, her voice echoing in the space around us. "What did you learn today?"
"That I can't take my eyes off you." I barely made it through the sentence before my voice cracked. Mira's posture shifted immediately and she removed her hands from her pockets. I stood from the seat, and made my way down the stairs toward her. She met me at the bottom, her hands falling to my waist immediately and I rested my arms on top of hers.
"Bad day?"
I choked down the lump in my throat as I looked up at her. "It was a really bad day."
"I'm sorry, honey." She pulled me into a hug and I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. To my surprise, she lifted me and turned so that my rear landed on her desk. She stood between my knees and I wrapped my legs around her, hiding my face against her neck while she cooed notions of consolation. I nodded, allowing myself to be soothed by her.
"Tell me what happened?" she said, when I leaned back.
I held my breath, my gaze flicking between her eyes as I contemplated confiding in her.
"Remember that conversation we had with Dax about cops needing to be transparent regarding some work things and how important that is for relationships?" she said, cocking a brow at me. "I can handle it, Billie. Trust me now before you're an FBI Agent or we're doomed."
"Don't say that." I pressed my index finger against her lips.
"Talk to me," she said, her words slightly muffled.
I nodded, and let out a slow breath. "A family was murdered in their home. It's always hard when kids are involved."
"Rightfully so." She brushed my hair away from my face, then tugged out my messy ponytail. "What about this one has you more upset than usual?"
"The patrol officers who got there first didn't realize there were three kids, not two. We're not usually on scene so quickly. We found the injured third kid hiding in a dresser drawer. She was still alive. No clue how she got herself in there." I took a deep breath after letting the words tumble out. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't tell you so much."
"You can, honey." She cupped my face in her hands. "You can."
"What if it makes you pass out or upsets you?"
"I won't." She smiled softly, and continued to stroke my cheeks.
"Are you sure?"
"I am. I only faint if I see it or if my emotions are all over the place," she said, holding my waist again. "Keep talking."
"I'm so angry at the injustice. I'm so angry that they didn't realize there was a third kid. The suspect destroyed half the house, pictures and everything." I shook my head and hugged her. "I'm so mad."
"It's okay to be mad. I'm mad for you. Do you know who did it?"
"Not yet. I have a suspect though. We need to I.D. her. After we talk to Ellie and Robert tonight, I'll head back to the office." I brushed her hair from her shoulders and gave her collar a gentle tug. "And then my meeting with Donovan tomorrow."
"My sabbatical is approved, by the way. Six to nine months." She smiled and tickled my sides. "I'm looking forward to it."
"What's your research topic?"
A wry smile curved her lips. "Superposition of quantum wave-particles in a delayed-choice experiment."
I burst out laughing and gripped her collar again, this time giving her a playful jerk. "You did that on purpose."
"I did." She grinned and kissed the end of my nose. "It made you laugh, didn't it?"
"Yes." I smiled as she gathered my hands against her chest. "You have no idea what your support means to me, Mira," I confessed, in a sudden bout of seriousness. "It's the first time someone has had my back fully and completely. Angelina has my back at work, and still does since I told her about the FBI, but in general life, it's been only you."
"What about Jordan and the salon girls?"
"They have, but not like this. Not with something so vastly personal."
"I'm glad to be that person for you, Billie. Thank you for letting me be it."
"Thank you for being it."
Mira and I shared a brief kiss before parting so she could tend to her office hours. I hung out in her office while she worked on grading assignments. No students came to see her, though she did get a few emails. Occasionally, when she wasn't looking, I snapped a photo of her appearing exceptionally studious and incredibly adorable.
"Sneaky," she said, and it made me smile.
My phone rang, and I swiped to answer the call from Angelina. "What've you got?"
"Nothing. Canvas of the area turned up nada and their house alarm was deactivated thirty seconds after it went off." She paused for a moment. "Billie, I have to tell you, the girl didn't make it."
I couldn't say what I wanted to, but Mira's eyes softened while she watched me, so my facial expression must've given away my feelings. "Listen, I'm heading home for a bit, but I'll head back to the office around eight tonight. Has Moreno formed a team?"
"Yeah. He and Sorensen have a team out questioning neighbors and tech are working on local CCTVs and doorbell cameras after that one hit. We'll all meet back at the precinct around eight-thirty."
"All right. See you then." I pocketed my phone and Mira's gaze bore into mine when I looked at her.
"Your face, honey. Bad news again?" asked Mira while packing up her bag.
"No survivors." I stood from my seat and held my hand to her. "We're going to leave work at work tonight. Ready to take on the youth of my bloodline?"
"More than." She accepted my gesture, then pulled me to her, a protective arm around my middle. "Let's go."
We found Robert and Eleanor home alone, as requested, for the evening. Robert, still in his internship shirt and tie, appeared ready to run a therapy group with the way he ushered us inside. Eleanor, in pajamas like usual, plated up a batch of chocolate chip cookies that she made. Beside the front door, a few boxes and totes packed and ready for their move to the dorm welcomed us before they did.
"Hi, Beej." Eleanor bounced over to us and hugged me around the neck. "I made cookies."
"I smell them. Yum." I smooched her cheek while rubbing her back.
"Hi, Mira." Eleanor broke away from me to hug Mira as well.
Robert grabbed me in a one-armed hug and I reciprocated, stealing a cheek kiss from him. In private, he didn't mind, but in front of Mira, it seemed to challenge his "man of the house" persona. He greeted Mira with a casual hug and a becoming smile.
"Do you folks want to ord
er something for dinner?" I asked, setting my bag down on the table beside the sofa.
"Nope. We're too anxious to hear what you wanted to talk about," blurted Eleanor and the rest of us laughed.
"Is she right?" I wagged my brows at Robbie and he nodded. "Okay." I gestured to the table before pulling out Mira's chair.
Eleanor carried over the dish filled with cookies. "I made coffee," she said. "Mira, do you want? Billie will say yes."
"Sure, sweetie. Thank you," she said as she sat, smiling at me after. "Super cute."
"I know." I grinned as I headed over to help Ellie carry four mugs of coffee to the table and Robert was the first to swipe a cookie.
"So, what is it, Beej?" he asked, accepting his coffee. Eleanor doubled back for milk, sugar, and creamers.
I glanced to Mira, and she gave my thigh an encouraging stroke. "Okay, I'll jump right in. You guys know that I've been talking about getting a bigger apartment as we've outgrown this one." They both nodded so I continued. "In a few weeks, Ellie moves into the dorms, leaving Daniel and Robert here with me. But I've been thinking of an alternative plan."
"Not like alternative facts, right?" teased Eleanor while breaking apart a warm, gooey cookie before dunking it in her coffee.
"No." I chuckled, shaking my head. "Not like that. Mira and I have been talking. She's asked me to move in with her. We could keep this apartment just as it is for you all, but I would move in with Mira. How would you feel about that?"
Eleanor and Robert shared a glance, and in their most siblingist moment ever, they both shrugged.
"I could see that working. We would just stay here?' asked Robert, glancing between us.
"Right. You would stay here with Daniel and we'll turn our room into just Eleanor's room," I said, meeting her gaze now. "What do you think?"
"I think it's cool. It's kind of like that now though. You're at Mira's a lot," she said, appearing less moved by the notion than Robert.
"Does that bother you?"
"No. Why would it?" She grabbed another cookie and looked between me and Mira. Mira bit her bottom lip as if trying not to smile.
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