by Aiden Bates
Doug frowned. "You do get that pregnant omegas work in places like big farms doing migrant labor or in lumber camps chopping down trees and stuff every day, well into their third trimesters." He put a hand on Ray's arm.
"Okay, but they die a lot that way. And so do their babies, which hurts them. I don't want you to lose the baby. And I refuse to lose you." Ray captured Doug's mouth in a searing kiss. "We are a family. We're going to be a slightly bigger family soon enough, okay?" He rested a hand on Doug's lower abdomen. "We don't have to risk you."
Doug glared at the wall. Ray didn't get it, not entirely. "This is about family, Ray." He forced himself to relax. "Maybe we wouldn't be able to get much done over the weekend, though." He took a deep breath and centered himself. It wasn't a setback. Later on, he'd be touched that someone cared this much. Really, he would.
"I know." Ray didn't meet his eyes. Instead, he snuggled up closer. "Do you remember any good lullabies from your rock 'n' roll days?"
Doug made himself laugh, but something deep inside of him twisted. Would Ray ever be able to accept Larry as part of his family? For that matter, Ray hadn't brought him out to Athol to meet his side of the family yet. Was he ashamed to have mated a perceived serial killer's son? Or just a lawyer?
He couldn't let those kinds of doubts eat into his head. He knew plenty of guys who would have made fantastic lawyers, but they got into their own way. They'd all dropped out. None of them was where he wanted to be. None of them was in control of his own fate, and Doug couldn't afford to let that happen to him. Not now, not when so many other lives were depending on him.
He was a damn fine lawyer. And Ray hadn't given him any reason to think that he was ashamed of Doug. He'd bring Doug out to Athol when he had the time. If he didn't, it would be because of his own discomfort with the place, not because of shame in Doug.
"I don't know if we ever did a song that could be described as a lullaby, but I might be able to rock a depressing ballad or two." He smiled and rested his head on Ray's chest, a favorite position for both of them. "If he starts talking about ghosts in school, though, that's totally on you."
"I promise to be the parent they call for disciplinary issues." Ray kissed his head. "That is, unless you're feeling exceptionally aggressive that day. Then you can have at it. Just don't get blood on the carpets, dear."
Doug laughed, and they turned their talk to more general topics. His brain wouldn't stop trawling his memory for suspects, though. Even Ray couldn't expect that of him.
***
Ray got through the weekend with something like ease. He had Doug to focus on. Doug was trying to be okay, but he wasn't okay, and that gave Ray plenty to occupy his brain and his time so that he didn't panic himself. If he'd been alone, or if Doug had been less shell-shocked by the impending arrival of their child, panic would have been the only reasonable option for Ray.
It just wasn't right. They should have had more time. They should have had more time to get used to one another, as people, before they had to get used to one another as parents. They should have been able to enjoy that stage when no one wanted to come to their house without plenty of advance notice, because there was never any guarantee that they'd have their clothes on.
They shouldn't have to track down a serial killer, re-prosecute Doug's dad, buy a house together, and then give birth, all within less than a year. That was too tight a timeframe for anyone, but especially for them.
It wasn't that Ray didn't want children. He did, a whole house full of children. He wanted them with Doug, too. Even if they hadn't exactly had a traditional courtship—which he intended to remedy, just as soon as he could—he did love his omega the way he was meant to be loved. They were going to build the best family the world had ever seen.
He just wished that they had more time.
If wishes were horses, he supposed, then beggars would ride. He held it together for the rest of the weekend, while they made love and explored Boston's South End. They even looked at real estate listings, although that search took on a bit of a new urgency now that there was a ticking time bomb in Doug's belly.
By the time that Ray got to the office on Monday, though, his hands were shaking. Morris noticed right away, because he was attentive to things like that even though he pretended not to be. "Dude, did you go on an epic bender with your lawyer or something? 'Cause if Devlin sees you this hung over he's going to have your badge. You know this."
Ray rested his head in his hands. "I'm not hung over." He paused. "I'm pregnant."
Morris put a hand on his shoulder and crouched next to his desk. "Okay, Ray, I'm not entirely sure what they taught you on that commune you lived on back in Athol, but it looks like I have to explain certain facts to you. Alphas don't get pregnant. They get other people pregnant. You see, sometimes an alpha meets an omega that he likes very much, and they hug each other in a very special way—"
Ray elbowed him. "I'm not pregnant. Doug is." He swallowed. "My omega."
Morris laughed out loud, clapping his hands in delight. "Wow, they must be putting something in the water here at headquarters, right? You, me, Robles—there's a little baby boom happening here." His broad smile signaled good news to everyone in the department. "That's amazing, Langer! I mean you guys must be excited!"
"Er. It's not exactly the best timing." Ray rubbed at the back of his neck as his cheeks heated up. "You know. What with me investigating his father for serial murder and all."
"Oh yeah." Morris sobered up immediately. "There is that, I guess."
"It does kind of put a damper on the frenzied celebrations." Ray leaned back. "I mean we're not actually living together yet, and now we've got to take care of this case, get a place, and get ready for the baby. It's kind of a lot."
Robles, Nenci, and Tessaro all walked in with Dunkies. "What's Morris so happy about at this hour?" Nenci grumped. "Did that baby of his drool a little differently or what?"
"No, but she is sitting up now. She's got this little bouncy saucer thing, she loves it, let me tell you. Oh, Langer—that's going to be an absolute lifesaver for you, bro. Bouncy babies are happy babies."
Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at Ray. Three jaws dropped. Then Robles' mouth twisted. "Oh, seriously, man? Already? You couldn't have waited until the case was closed?" He stomped over to his desk and sat down in a huff.
"Um, pretty sure that's not how it works?" Ray tried to make himself a little smaller. "Look, I know that I should have waited to claim him until after the case was over, but I slipped up. I get that."
"You shouldn't have claimed a lawyer in the first place." Nenci wagged a finger at him. "But you did, so deal with it. You're going to have to find a way to make it work." He wrinkled his nose. "I haven't seen much of that lawyer fella, but he doesn't seem like the type to let things go too easily. He's not going to be too happy about stepping down from the case, is he?" He chuckled. "Not that I care. The guy's got a phenomenal record. I won't be sorry to see him out of court."
Ray blinked and shook his head. "Nenci, Doug's not stepping down from anything. I mean he'll take paternity leave, but he's not quitting his job."
Nenci's jaw dropped. "You'd let him work against you?"
Tessaro watched the exchange through narrow, glittering gray eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest, but he didn't seem to have any particular stake in the outcome. Both Morris and Robles squirmed openly, though. "Er, Nenci, you do get that omegas work now, right?" Ray watched his colleague carefully. "I mean it's the twenty-first century. Omegas have full civil rights and everything."
"Sure, legally." Nenci leaned his chair back. "I mean look, Robles' omega pretends to be a cop. That's one thing." Robles' lip curled, but he stayed quiet. "And Morris' omega, he does… something. But it's something he can do from home. This is different. This is your omega actively working against you and everything that you do. He's not just a lawyer—and I'm guessing that he makes a lot more than we do, which doesn't sit right with me—he actively works to r
elease people that you worked hard to put away."
Ray closed his eyes. "You know what?" He opened his eyes again and squared his shoulders. "If I've done my job, he shouldn't be able to find any handholds in my case. He doesn't just take on random cases. He wants to make sure that the right people pay for the right crimes, and if evidence has been excluded or ignored or—God forbid—covered up, then he's right to spring them. We're supposed to be about justice, not about putting just anyone away."
Morris snorted. "You used to work in Internal Affairs, Nenci." He shook his head. "You know that. The whole system falls apart if no one's keeping us honest, because let's face it. Things get screwed up all the time. That doesn't mean we're bad at our jobs. I mean look at this case." He picked up a file from his desk and gave a little grin, as if to say, You all do remember the case, right? "We were absolutely positive that Morrison was good for all of these, but it seems like every week we're finding another victim that he couldn't have possibly killed. We weren't being malicious. He looked good for all of them. But things happen, and it's only because he has a good lawyer that they're getting corrected."
Tessaro unfolded himself from his cramped-looking position. "We do want to catch the one who killed the cleared victims, right?" He winked, and Ray felt a little sheepish. He was usually the one soothing wounded tempers and pride, not the guys. "Look. How about you leave Ray's marital woes to Ray, and Ray will absolutely not mention your pathetic pining for at least another year. Sound good?"
"I don't pine." Nenci sulked, but he picked up a lab report that had been sheathed in plastic. "Anyway, we got DNA off of one of the bones found in Freetown. That victim was definitely Irene Soto. She was thirty-eight, had a few run-ins with the law for prostitution."
A pit opened up in Ray's stomach. "She was on the list that Ryan gave me." He shook his head. "She disappeared last year. So definitely not Morrison."
"No, not Morrison." Nenci shook his head. "But according to Oliver, the tool marks are the same as they were on most of the other victims. He had a lot of good things to say about the detailed notes and pictures that other techs took, and he can swear in a court of law that it was the same axe that cut her up."
"Charming. So we're going with the same killer." Ray stood up and paced. "But why Soto? All of the other victims are white. Soto is Hispanic. The other victims are solidly white collar women. Soto was a clerk at a convenience store who turned tricks at truck stops as a second job, just to keep her family fed."
"She met the physical criteria." Tessaro pressed a few keys and projected Soto's image up onto a whiteboard. "She had a more European appearance, I suppose. Close enough for jazz, if you're paying for it. And she had the same 'mom' hairstyle that six of the earlier victims had."
Robles flipped through files. "To include one that still hasn't been cleared from Morrison's charge sheet, Dorothy Masson."
"Crap." Ray bit down on a knuckle. He shouldn't be unhappy that Doug's father—his child's grandfather—had essentially just been cleared of another murder. He had every right to be annoyed that it proved that he had gotten another case wrong, yet again. "The only good things about this case are Doug and the baby, honestly. Okay. Would Oliver be willing to take a look at the remaining autopsy reports and tell me if the tool marks are the same?"
Nenci got up and hurried toward the door. "I'll go ask."
The rest of the team watched him go. "You know, he could just call down to the lab. It's not like it costs extra to make an in-house call." Robles shook his head. "I'm just saying."
"He needs his awkward stare fix." Tessaro snorted and gestured toward the screen. "So. Why the switch in social class? That's not normal for serial killers. If they have a type, they stick with it."
"Unless the social class was never part of the type." Morris perched up on top of his desk and dug an apple out of a drawer. "He absolutely has an issue with women, and his issues seem to center on age and appearance. He goes after the maternal type."
Ray sucked on the insides of his cheeks again. "Okay. For the record, it's weird to eliminate class from this picture. But if we do open up to prostitutes, why would he restrict himself to such a narrow little field of focus for so long?" He scratched the side of his head.
The four detectives stared at the whiteboard for a moment. "I still like the two-killer theory, personally." Robles walked over to the whiteboard, where the names of the victims had been placed in two columns at the outset. They'd been erased from the one headed by Lawrence Morrison and moved over to the one marked Unknown as more information came in. "I think that Unknown here picked up on what your charming father-in-law was doing and decided to get in on the action. While he could hide out disguised as Larry, it made sense for him to go for Larry's type."
Ray nodded slowly. "But once Larry was out of the picture, he was free to loosen things up a bit. Seems legit." He tapped a marker against the whiteboard. "What's still eating at me, though, is that blank space."
"Blank space?" Tessaro walked up.
Ray pointed to the two-year gap in deaths on the timeline. "Even the two killer theory doesn't make sense here." He tapped his pen against that gap. "They just don't have a two-year hiatus after their first kill, and then go on a two-per-year spree. That doesn't happen."
"We'll find the bodies eventually." Tessaro put a hand on his back. "Rome wasn't built in a day and all that. The important thing right now is taking another killer off the streets. Oh—and calling your omega to tell him that we're taking another off of his father's rap sheet."
Ray didn't call. He sent a text. They usually texted during the day, because either one of them could be in court, or in a meeting, or in with a client or suspect. He got a text back about an hour later. Hey, in recess right now. Thanks for letting me know. Love you.
Ray had to admit that he was curious about his mate's activities today. He usually didn't ask, because he didn't want to get into any kind of argument with his mate. Today, though, he went ahead and asked. Where are you?
He didn't get a verbal answer back. Instead he got a selfie taken from inside a courtroom. Ray blushed. Why was it that Doug looked so incredibly good in a suit? Which case is it today?
Commonwealth v. Jake Gereben.
Ray frowned. Isn't that the Omega Case?
You know, Jake's much more than just an omega. He's a bartender, a graduate student, and a poet. Doug sent him a few heart emojis, and then, Got to go, the judge is coming back.
Ray frowned and looked away. Sure, his omega was doing his job, but defending a homicidal omega?
He put his feet on the floor, took a deep breath, and looked for his focus. Who was he to judge? He knew that circumstances weren't always what they seemed. He knew nothing about this case, other than the fact that the omega had been accused of murdering his alpha. Well, he couldn't have been his alpha, could he? The claim hadn't been made.
Oh. Doug was defending a guy claiming self-defense. And Doug made every effort to try not to take cases where he believed that the accused was guilty. Doug hadn't tried to sell him on the guilt or innocence of this client. He hadn't brought this client up to him at all. He'd just let Ray make up his own mind, and trusted Ray to be fair and rational about it.
The amount of trust that Doug had in Ray threatened to send him to his knees. To be sure, they were in this together now. Doug didn't have a lot of choice about being tied to Ray, but he had every option when it came to trusting him. Ray wasn't going to abuse that trust.
Chapter Eight
Doug pressed the button on his desktop phone when it beeped at him. "Hi, Patricia. What's up?"
"I have Detective Langer and Mr. Maggio from the District Attorney's office here to see you?" The receptionist's voice didn't sound all that tinny, not the way it had before they got the new phone system put in. Doug had thought that the new system was an unnecessary expense when they'd bought it, but now he could completely understand the wisdom.
"Awesome. If you could show them to the Morgan v. Virgi
nia room, please, that would be helpful." Doug grabbed his papers and headed out of his office, aiming himself toward the conference room in question.
Ray and Chris were waiting for him when he got there. The Morgan v. Virginia room wasn't the largest conference room that the firm had, but it was Doug's favorite. Its most defining feature was a huge portrait of Irene Morgan, smiling down at the conference table from the wall. The person who had designed the offices had included a small plaque commemorating Mrs. Morgan's fight against segregation, and Doug liked to pretend that she was watching over them.
Whether or not she would approve of any of what they were doing was a different story. Doug had no idea. He admired her, though, so he continued to pretend.
He stopped when he saw Ray. He thought about throwing himself into his alpha's arms, but reconsidered his position before he could act on it. His bosses had said that they were fine with his pregnancy, and that it wouldn't affect his progress through the firm, but he knew that they weren't enthusiastic about his choice in partners. He'd get over it, of course, but he knew that he needed to be extra professional for a while. "Hi guys. Chris. Ray. It's good to see you. Thanks for coming into the city. I hope parking wasn't a huge issue."