Dizzying flickers of blue and red bounced across weather-worn walls, coal asphalt and choppy ocean water as Inspector Maggie Snow ducked under the limp police tape.  A light mist was beginning to fall so she hurried her pace, wanting to get the crime scene processed quickly in case the mist turned into something heavier.  She nodded at Lieutenant Tom Hogan, unsurprised to see her boss surrounded by a gaggle of reporters.  This was the fourth apparent drug death in seven days.  The media was starting to circle like a school of great whites.  They smelled blood in the water, and the police were starting to feel like chum.

 Maggie saw a familiar face as she made her way toward the body.  Claire Washburn was kneeling next to the victim as the forensics teams circled around her, rapidly collecting any remaining evidence before the rain began in earnest.  Flashbulbs were firing off so fast, Maggie almost felt like she was at a nightclub.  The strobe effect they created made Claire’s movements seem jerky and the slightest bit spooky.

 “Dr. Washburn,” Maggie greeted Claire cordially, blinking as another flash from a camera nearly blinded her.  The medical examiner had thawed a little toward her in the last few weeks, but not enough to Maggie’s liking.  She wanted to do her best to ingratiate herself with Jill’s friends.  They obviously meant a lot to the blonde attorney, and since Jill was coming to mean a lot to Maggie, it seemed the only prudent thing to do.  Not that a damn one of them was making it easy.  At least Boxer wasn’t on this case.  Maggie took it as a victory in their little rivalry that she’d grabbed this high profile case while Boxer had been toiling on closing some homicides that were under the city’s radar.  It wasn’t that Maggie didn’t admire Boxer’s skills as a cop, but Boxer was at the top of the totem pole, a place Maggie wanted reserved for herself.

 “Inspector Snow,” Claire grumbled as she packed up her kit.

 “Time of death?” Maggie inquired, deciding her best approach with Claire for the moment would be professional until they were no longer chatting over a corpse.

 “About two hours ago.”  Claire gently covered the young Asian woman tossed like trash from a moving car.  “She’s barely cold.”

 Maggie slipped out a notepad and jotted a few immediate details about the scene into it.  “Lt. Hogan said on the phone that you think our girl here is another victim of this whacked out batch of Ecstasy that’s making my life a living Hell right now.  What makes you think that?”

 Claire lifted the girl’s right arm, picked up her UV light and flicked it on over the back of the victim’s hand.  The image of a devil appeared in the ghostly purple light.  “She’s got the mark on her.”

 “Damn raves,” Maggie swore as Claire put the light away.  All of the victims had possessed the stamp on their hands, but it was information the police hadn’t released to the general public.  “Stupid kids keep going to them even though the media is warning them right and left.”

 “That’s youth for you.”  Claire tucked the light away and zipped her bag.  “They think nothing can touch them.  A little danger just adds to the thrill.”  She stood.  “I’ll know for sure if she overdosed on this poison once I get the tox results in.”  She smiled tightly as Maggie handed her the kit.  The other woman was at least trying to be friendly, but something about her still set Claire’s teeth on edge.  It was just hard to get past Maggie accusing her best friend of murder.  That sort of thing tended to piss Claire off, and she had a long memory.  It didn’t help matters that Hollywood, as Lindsay liked to call Maggie, seemed wholly unapologetic about the matter and had picked up her little battle of wills with Lindsay as if the whole Kiss-Me-Not case had never happened.

 The situation didn’t seem to be a problem for Jill, however, Claire noted wryly as the blonde attorney gave Maggie a beaming smile as she arrived on the scene.  “Claire,” Jill greeted warmly.  “Maggie,” the last was said with a hint of suggestiveness that made Claire’s gag reflex twinge.

 “Hi there.”  Maggie smiled but didn’t return the flirting interest.  There was a time and place for it and this wasn’t it.  At least she figured Claire would feel that way so she decided to act accordingly.

 Jill glanced down at the sheet-covered body.  Clearly some kind-hearted Samaritans had found the body first and tried to cover the girl up.  Jill just hoped they hadn’t contaminated any evidence.  Bloodstains were already soaking through the sheet, turning the small roses on the surface a darker shade than the designer ever intended.  “Do I want to look?” she asked Claire.

 Claire knelt again and lifted one corner so Jill could see the once beautiful young face.  Her friend winced at the sight of the torn skin and bruises, but then Jill frowned and bent at the waist, angling her head for a better look.  “Something wrong?” Claire asked.

 “She…” Jill stood up and shook her head.  “She looks… familiar.”

 Claire glanced back down at the young woman’s face.  “You know her?”

 Jill shook her head again.  “No.  But I’ve seen her somewhere before.”

 “Any idea where?” Maggie asked as the coroner’s wagon arrived.  She shot the vehicle a look before tipping her head back and taking in the flash of lightning overhead.  Spring had sprung in San Francisco, and it had been raining on and off for almost a week.  The storm and wet ground were going to be hell on any forensic trace evidence if the techs didn’t pick up the pace.

 Jill ran a hand through her hair.  “I can’t place it.  I want to say work, though.”

 “You think she worked at the Hall?” Claire asked with alarm as she glanced back at the deceased again, wondering if it was someone she passed at work every day and hadn’t realized it.

 The blonde shrugged helplessly.  “Maybe.  Hell, maybe I just think I know her.”  Jill jumped when a clap of thunder sounded overhead. 

 Another flash of lightning illuminated the reporters behind the crime scene tape and Claire lifted her chin when she saw a familiar redhead among the crowd.  “Excuse me,” she told the two unfortunately dating women before shifting her kit to her other hand.  “I need to check in with a… colleague.”

 Jill turned her head as Claire left, noting exactly where the medical examiner was heading.  She smiled in Cindy’s general direction, receiving a dip of the reporter’s head in response.  There was no answering grin, however, and Jill tried not to wince at the cool response.  Cindy was not happy with her for dating Maggie, and the reporter was none too shy about displaying her displeasure at the relationship.  A pang of guilt made Jill’s stomach ache, but she resolutely stuffed the feeling aside and forced her gaze away from her friends.

 “Does that girl sleep with Lindsay or a police scanner?” Maggie wanted to know as she watched Claire duck under the police tape just as the medical examiner’s assistants came under from the other side.  The ME laid her hand on Cindy’s shoulder and turned the reporter around, but not before Cindy gave a look of stone cold hatred in Maggie’s direction.  Maggie gave her a cheeky wave, unable to help herself.

 “Cindy?” Jill guessed, pretending not to notice Maggie’s reaction and making a mental note to talk to the reporter over lunch sometime very soon.  “Probably both.”  Jill knelt as fat drops of rain began to patter on the asphalt and into the ocean just beyond the warehouse they were standing behind.  Ships were coming and going in the night, their running lights and the sound of their motors the only evidence of their existence in the darkness and rain.  She lifted the corner of the sheet and studied the face of the victim one last time.  “Where in the hell do I know this girl from?” she murmured.

 ****

 

ACT I

 The storm seemed fitting, like something out of a gothic horror novel, Denise Kwon decided as she was led down a long corridor of holding cells.  Flashes of lightning came through the barred windows, casting long, eerie shadows across the concrete floor as inmates called out obscenities to one another from the bowels of the prison.  Denise was no stranger to this place, but the prisoner who had summoned her here at this hour was not one she had any desire to see.

 A guard buzzed her in while two more flanked her on each side.  Denise caught sight of the killer in his orange jumpsuit, sitting at a table with his hands shackled and locked to a long chain that secured him to the floor.  She took an unsteady breath as the guard unlocked the cell and stepped aside to allow her to enter.

 “What?” she demanded in a clipped voice.

 Pete Raynor smiled, looking like the Prince Charming Denise had once thought him to be.  “Hello, Denise.”

 Denise noted there was no other counsel present.  She wondered what game Pete was about to start playing now.  “You shouldn’t have called me without your lawyer.”

 “I’m just glad you came.  I refuse to hold on to this information any longer.  My conscience simply won’t let me.  It was keeping me up at night.”  Pete continued to smile benignly.

 “What do you want, Mr. Raynor?  The warden said you insisted on speaking with someone from the District Attorney’s office…”

 “And here you are.  Although,” Pete said placidly, “I was kind of hoping to see Jill.”  

 The mere thought gave Denise chills.  She stood a little straighter.  “What do you want?” she demanded again, her voice harder and dripping disdain.

 “To tell you where you can find a body,” Pete announced with the same serene look still on his features.

 Denise had suspected this would be his ploy to drag her out at this time of night.  She crossed her arms and tried to look disinterested.  “We have enough bodies, Mr. Raynor, to get you the death penalty ten times over.  If you think I’m going to strike a deal…”

 “I want to talk to Lindsay,” Pete declared.  “I don’t need a deal from the District Attorney’s Office.”

 “No way.”  Denise shook her head for emphasis.  “The next time you see Lindsay Boxer will be in court.”

 “I’ll only tell Lindsay where the body is,” Pete vowed.

 “Then I guess we won’t find it,” Denise said smartly.  Privately, she hated that some family out there might not get closure, but she was not about to play games or make concessions for this man.  “Right now Lindsay is curled up in bed with her girlfriend on this dark and stormy night,” Denise told him and had the satisfaction of seeing his smug smile falter.  “You’re the last thing on her mind.”

 “You don’t know that.  I’ve marked her for life.  I’ll always be in the shadows of her mind, lurking in the depths of her dreams…” Pete’s smile slowly returned.  “And she’ll want to come.  She’ll want to know where the body is… need to know where the body is.”

 “And why is that?” Denise snapped.

 “Because I killed Jill’s stepfather, and I’m the only one who knows where the rotting bastard is.”

 ****

 

“Do we think this is connected to the other three deaths?  Did she have the Devil stamp on her?  Why do you think she was tossed here?”

 “Hello to you, too, skipper,” Claire drawled to Cindy with a tired smile as they moved away from the crime scene as the rain picked up in intensity.

 “Sorry.”  Cindy brushed a damp lock of her hair away from her glasses.  It was late, and she’d been dragged away from a warm bed and an even warmer partner, and she was less than thrilled about it.  “I had way too much coffee on the way over here.”

 Claire chuckled and lightly scratched Cindy’s back through the thin navy windbreaker she was wearing.  They stopped walking out of the line of sight of the other reporters, tucking themselves against a closed delivery door to avoid the worst of the rain.  “I’m surprised Lindsay didn’t come with you.”

 “Well, she has been on duty for ten straight days.  I’m not even sure she knows I’m gone.”  Cindy smiled just a little.  “I didn’t have the heart to wake her.  Besides, it’s not her case.”

 “No.  It’s the ice queen’s case,” Claire muttered with a glance at Maggie and Jill.  She shook her head.  “Why Tom gave this one to Snow is beyond me.”

 Cindy privately agreed.  “Well he can’t give all the high-profile cases to Lindsay and Jacobi.  The other cops would complain.”

 Claire chuckled.  “Got a point there,” she admitted.  Her gaze returned to Maggie and Jill.  Maggie’s confidence in her skills as an investigator was clear in the inspector’s very bearing.  Claire wouldn’t have had a problem with that if Snow had proven that she could walk the walk as well as talk the talk.  She watched as Maggie reached up and brushed Jill’s bangs away from her eyes.  Claire had to look away, none too pleased to see the affection between the two women.  “I really thought Jill’s taste had improved with Luke… but this is a definite setback.”

 Cindy snorted faintly.  “Well you know how I feel, but if she makes Jill happy…”

 “Do you really believe that?” Claire drawled with disbelief clear in her tone and expression, her gaze shifting back to the reporter in surprise.

 “I plead the fifth.”  Cindy flipped open her notebook with one hand while yawning into her fist with the other.  “Okay.  What can you tell me?”

 Claire gladly changed the topic.  Murder seemed a much safer subject than Maggie Snow, unfortunately.  “Not much.  Not yet anyway.  She did have the same mark as the other victims.  If she has the same type of Ecstasy in her system, then we’ve definitely got a problem.”

 Cindy wiped at the annoying curl of hair again.  “So the two things we know are that all the victims were at this devil dude’s raves and that someone gave them some seriously tainted drugs.”   

 “Whoever gave them those drugs had to know they were going to kill those kids,” Claire argued.  “Cyanide only does one thing and getting you high is not it.”

 “Ecstasy laced with poison.  Too bad the victims didn’t listen to Nancy Reagan and just say no.”

 Claire’s lips quirked.  “Forensics pulled two pills off the victim.  That is not for print, by the way.”

 Cindy held up her hands before jotting the information down.  “Like the others?  Green with a white flower on top?”

 “Just like the others,” Claire confirmed.  She sighed tiredly.  “That’s all I got, sweetheart.  I need to get the poor thing back to the office.”

 “We don’t even have her name?” Cindy glanced at the scene as the victim was loaded onto a gurney.

 “We’ll have to wait on dental records,” Claire murmured.

 Cindy watched as the body was loaded into the coroner’s wagon.  She shook her head.  “The monsters just keep coming,” she said quietly.

 “The monsters just keep coming,” Claire agreed.

 **** 

 

A knock at the door wrenched Lindsay Boxer up from the heavy shackles of sleep.  She jerked upright in bed, cursing when she felt cold sheets where her usually warm girlfriend should be.  Another knock had her moving through Cindy’s apartment, sidestepping Martha only to bang her toe into the coffee table.  More curses flowed from her lips into the dimly lit space.  They really needed to find their own place, Lindsay decided.  Cindy’s apartment was just too damn small.

 Lindsay looked out the peephole and frowned at her late night visitor.  She had to take a second glance to confirm she wasn’t dreaming.  “Huh,” she muttered as she undid the row of locks and opened the door to a dripping Denise Kwon.

 “Hi,” Denise said lamely.  “I’m sorry to wake you.”  She glanced down at Lindsay’s long, bare legs and blinked before shifting her attention back on Lindsay’s dark eyes.  The inspector was in nothing more than a long Texas Longhorns jersey and socks.  How she could make the ensemble sexy, Denise wasn’t sure, but Boxer was pulling it off and rather well at that.  The jersey had to be a gift from Thomas because Denise was pretty sure Boxer didn’t know an end zone from a goal post.  “May I come in?”

 Too sleepy to notice Denise’s perusal of her lack of wardrobe or to be self-conscious about it, Lindsay moved aside and let her enter.  “Need a towel?”

 “That would be nice, thank you.”  Lindsay moved away, leaving Denise to awkwardly pet Martha on the head when the dog came over and sat next to her hand.  She couldn’t see much in Cindy’s dark apartment, but Denise gathered that Cindy wasn’t home.  The reporter would have ventured out of the bedroom by now, driven by her relentless curiosity.

 “Here you go.”  Lindsay returned in shorts and carrying a deep brown towel.

 Denise took it and began wiping her hands and face.  “Thomas isn’t home?” she asked to be sure.

 Lindsay held up a piece of paper she’d found taped to the bathroom mirror.  “She got called out on that Ecstasy story apparently.”

 “They found another victim?” Denise asked in surprise.  She hadn’t checked her BlackBerry since getting her summons from Raynor.

 “Looks that way.”  Lindsay crossed her arms as thunder rumbled loud and close. “So I take it this isn’t a social call.”

 “It’s not,” Denise sighed as she draped the towel around her shoulders.  She took a breath and bit the proverbial bullet.  “Pete Raynor called me to the prison tonight.”

 Lindsay stiffened and stood a little straighter.  Her features hardened into an unreadable mask even as her stomach roiled at the very mention of Pete’s name.  “Lucky you,” she said tightly.

 “He wants to see you,” Denise added without preamble, wishing she didn’t have to be the bearer of such bad news.  It made her feel guilty, to dredge the Kiss-Me-Not Killer back up into the thoughts of a woman who would probably pay almost any price to never have to think of him again.

 “I don’t care,” Lindsay replied immediately. 

 Denise massaged the bridge of her nose.  “I wasn’t going to tell you.  I was just going to pretend like I never heard what he said to me, but the more I thought about it the more I couldn’t let it go.”

 Lindsay shifted her weight, curious and angry with herself for feeling that way.  “What did he say?  You wouldn’t be here unless it was something major.”

 “He said he murdered Jill’s stepfather.”

 Denise couldn’t have surprised Lindsay more if she’d shown up at this hour drunk and frisky.  “What?”  Lindsay reached past Denise and finally snapped on the light, bathing them both in welcome, warm tones.

 “I believe him, Inspector,” Denise continued.  “He said he would only reveal the location of William Carter’s body to you.”

 Tunneling her hands through her hair, Lindsay moved back into the living room and started to pace.  The rain picked up outside again, smacking against the window with a clatter that grated on Lindsay’s suddenly agitated nerves.  “Sonofabitch,” she hissed.  Once the club had discovered Pete was the Kiss-Me-Not Killer, some distant part of her mind had wondered if he hadn’t been behind the disappearance of Jill’s so-called stepfather.  Knowing she’d been right didn’t make her feel any better.

 “That’s why I’m here.  I’m not compelling you to go see him.  I’m not even asking.  We have enough evidence against Raynor to put him away for life or to see that he gets death.  I don’t think anyone would miss Carter except his wife.  But…” Denise nibbled her bottom lip.

 “But?” Lindsay prompted impatiently.

 “I’m here… because I wanted to know if Jill needs this… this closure.  We all know what that man did to her.  Would she want to find Carter’s body?  Would she need that?  And what about his other victims?  Maybe they need that, too.”

 The pacing stopped as Lindsay considered the questions, cursing herself inwardly for thinking more about her own reaction to the news than how Jill would feel about it.  Pete had damaged all of them, something she kept forgetting.  “I don’t know.  It might be enough to know Carter is dead.  If he’s dead.  Pete could be yanking our chains.”

 “He told me how he killed him, Inspector.  I believe him.”

 “I just want this guy out of all our lives,” Lindsay muttered after a minute of silence and contemplation. 

 Denise knew there was nothing she could say so she remained quiet.

 “Thanks for letting me know,” Lindsay finally said.

 “I’m sorry to burden you with this,” Denise admitted.

 Lindsay shook her head, appreciating what Denise was trying to do for both her and Jill.  “You did the right thing telling me.  Now I just need to figure out what the right thing is for Jill.”

 Denise slipped the towel from her neck and handed it to Lindsay.  “Let me know when you do.  I’ll keep this just between us until then.”  She moved to the door and opened it.

 “Denise,” Lindsay called out before the woman was out the door.  “Would you want to know?”

 The attorney hesitated.  “I don’t know.  I’m not Jill, and I’m not her best friend.  I don’t think I’m the one to ask.”

 There was something interesting in Denise’s tone, but Lindsay couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.  “You may not be Jill,” she agreed.  “But… you sure are acting like a friend,” Lindsay informed the other woman with a weary half-smile.

 Denise pursed her lips but said nothing more, closing the door behind her with a soft snick and leaving Lindsay Boxer with a new weight to carry on her already overburdened shoulders.

 ****

 

“She does not.”

 “Does too.”

 “Does not.”

 “Does too,” Cindy argued lightly as she paced Jill step for step through the long corridors of the Hall, taking almost three steps for every one of Jill’s long strides.  “I’m telling you, she’s totally into you.”

 “You’re delusional,” Jill replied with a firm shake of her head.  She shifted her files to the other arm before shouldering her door open and shoving it inward.

 “Denise is completely, absolutely…” Cindy started only to smack into her friend’s back when Jill stopped abruptly.  The reporter glanced around Jill.  “Sitting right there,” she finished.

 Denise lifted one elegant eyebrow as she rose from Jill’s chair.  “What am I completely and absolutely, Ms. Thomas?”

 Cindy opened and closed her mouth before glancing at an imaginary watch.  “Heh.  Look at the time.  I’ve got a deadline to meet.  Nice seeing you, Denise.  Jill,” Cindy almost squeaked before turning traitor and leaving her friend alone with her dragon lady of a boss.

 “High strung, that one,” Denise commented casually.

 Jill’s eyes narrowed as she watched Cindy flee, wishing, not for the first time, that laser vision really had lasers.  “Something I can do for you?” Jill asked, ignoring her boss’s jab at the reporter.

 “As a matter of fact…” Denise grabbed Jill’s files and flung them onto the floor, spreading them out in a cascade of paper.

 “Hey!  Wh-…?”  Jill started only to be pulled into her office, her words catching in her throat as Denise kicked the door closed behind them and pressed Jill against the wood and glass.  Jill didn’t have time to think or react as Denise’s mouth captured hers and her boss’s hands began to blaze a path under her shirt and up her torso.

 “D…” Jill couldn’t speak as her knees went weak.  Denise’s warm, solid thigh slipped between her own, causing a sweet friction between Jill’s legs.  “God,” she got out between rough kisses and gasps for air.

 “I don’t want to hear it, Bernhardt.”

 Jill blinked as Denise’s voice lowered and smoothed out into the amber tones of Claire Washburn.  “Huh?”  She jumped when something cold and wet smacked her in the face.  The attorney snapped upright, realizing that she’d been dreaming and had apparently fallen asleep with her face on Claire’s desk.

 “I do not want to know why you were moaning in your sleep at my desk,” Claire informed her with bemusement as she lounged in the doorway.  “I have to sit in that chair.”

 The DDA rubbed at her face and then let her hands slide through her short, blonde locks.  Her features were still wet and she glanced down at the desk for the source, frowning when she saw a glob of wet paper towels.  “Was that necessary?”

 “No, but it was fun.”  Claire chuckled at Jill’s scowl before crossing to her desk and perching on the edge.  “And you sounded like you needed some cooling off.”

 Jill eyed the paper towels.  “Those weren’t used to wash up a dead body, were they?”

 Claire snorted.

 Deciding she was too overheated to care, Jill grabbed the towels and began to blot the back of her neck.  The cold felt wonderful against her hot skin.  “I must be getting a fever,” she murmured.

 Frowning now, Claire leaned across the desk and felt her friend’s forehead.  “You are warm.  You feeling okay?”

 “Obviously not,” Jill muttered.  “I just dreamed I was having sex with Denise.” 

 “Ah-ah.”  Claire held up a hand and retreated from her desk.  “Did I not tell you I didn’t want to hear it?”  She started shooing Jill out of her chair, keeping her amusement out of her voice.  Claire was oddly pleased to hear Jill had been dreaming about someone other than Maggie.  She decided to take that as a good sign.  “Up.  Come on.  Up.”

 Scowling again, Jill got to her feet and moved so Claire could sit.  “Did you get cause of death?”  She rubbed at one sleepy eye as Claire settled in her chair.  They’d both been up nearly twenty hours closing another case when they’d received word of last night’s victim.  “If that kid in there died from the same drug…”

 “She died from a drug,” Claire confirmed, too damn tired to quiz Jill on why she was having sex dreams about her boss, even though a part of her wanted to pry.  “Won’t be sure it was the same one until the toxicology results are in.  And that kid is only a few years younger than Cindy.” 

 “That’s four, Claire,” Jill sighed as she slumped into a chair.  Pressing the cold towels to the back of her neck once more, she watched Claire lace her fingers and put them on the desk.  “Narcotics needs to get this stuff off the street.”

 “Narcotics needs to find out who is pushing this stuff and make them take it,” Claire declared.

 Jill bobbed her head once in the affirmative.  “That would work,” she agreed dryly.  “Save the taxpayers of San Francisco a few bucks on a trial.”

 The door to the morgue swung open and a refreshed looking Cindy Thomas came rushing in.  “Hey.  I’ve got something,” she informed them with a smile and slightly out of breath.

 “Way too much sleep from the looks of it,” Claire huffed.

 Cindy hesitated as her gaze swung from Claire to Jill.  She squinted her eyes as she looked at the attorney.  “What did you do to your face?”

 Jill’s hand came up and she felt indentations on her cheek where she’d fallen asleep on a spiral notebook.  “Shut up, Miss Sunshine,” she growled.  “Some of us have been working all night.”

 “And some of us have been catching forty winks on my desk,” Claire added.  She leaned back in her chair and gave Cindy a weary smile.  “What have you got, sweetheart?”

 Deciding to avoid a grouchy Jill, Cindy sidled over to Claire’s desk.  “Well, we know magnolia is a messed-up kind of Ecstasy, right?”

 “It’s a death pill,” Claire argued roughly.

 “Wait.  What?” Jill asked as she leaned forward.  “Magnolia?”

 “It’s a green pill with a white flower on the top,” Cindy replied defensively, her friends’ sour mood and lack of sleep wearing on her nerves already.  “Someone at the Register mentioned that it look like a magnolia.  We had to call it something.”  She looked from one to the other but didn’t see any support.  “Jeez.  You two need coffee.”

 “Why do you reporters feel the need to name everything?” Jill complained.

 Cindy held out her hands, a reporter’s notepad in one of them.  “We can’t just keep calling it that green pill with the flower on top that killed those kids.  Just calling it…  magnolia… it’s… easier.”  She stood up a little straighter as if she expected to have to defend herself some more.

 “It does look like a magnolia,” Claire murmured as she looked at the photograph she kept in her desk of the pill that had been keeping her so busy as of late.

 “Not helping,” Jill whined.

 Cindy smirked.  “Anyway… calling it magnolia was actually a good thing.”

 “Helped you get your story above the fold?” Jill sniped before slumping back in the chair and covering her eyes with the wet paper towels.

 “Okay.  Not coffee.  You either need sleep or sex,” Cindy stated bluntly.  “Maggie isn’t all that, huh?” 

    Jill extended the middle finger of her right hand toward the reporter who grinned in triumph and turned back to Claire.  As cranky as Jill felt, it was still nice to have Cindy smile at her again. 

 “I ran a search using magnolia and illegal substances,” Cindy explained.

 “You found something?” Claire asked in surprise.

 “Did I not say that when I walked in?” Cindy teased before retrieving the file she had tucked under her arm.  She opened it, laying out the photographs and articles on Claire’s desk.  Leather creaked behind her, and a moment later, Jill leaned over her shoulder.  “Magnolia,” Cindy said as she handed a police photo to Jill and an article dated four years ago from a New Orleans newspaper to Claire.

 The attorney bit her lip.  “Looks the same,” she murmured.

 “It is the same.  They even called it Magnolia.” Cindy smiled triumphantly.

 “I’ll be damned,” Claire almost whispered as she studied the article.

 “What?” Jill asked.  “Sound like our drug?”

 “It does,” Claire said.  “But that’s not what got my attention.”  She handed the copy of the article to Jill and put her hands on her hips as she waited for her friend’s reaction.

 “I’ll be damned,” Jill echoed as she studied the photograph of narcotics officers at the scene of a rave gone bad.  She glanced up at Claire and their gazes held as long buried history floated up between them.

 “What?” Cindy asked.  “What?” She repeated when her friends didn’t answer quickly enough.

 Jill put her elbow on Cindy’s shoulder and leaned closer, displaying the article for the reporter to see.  “See that cop there?” Jill drawled with a hint of a smile.  She pointed at a tall brunette who was standing just left of center in jeans and a leather jacket.  Her shield and gun were both visible on her narrow waist.

 Cindy looked up at her friend when she heard the warmth enter Jill’s voice.  The officer was attractive, and Cindy had a moment to wonder if she was another notch on Jill’s legendary bedpost.  In fact, the officer reminded her a little bit of Lindsay.  “You know her?”

 “That’s Nikki Beaumont,” Jill informed her.

 “How do you know a narcotics cop from New Orleans?” Cindy wanted to know.

 Claire smiled and settled back in her chair once more.  “She used to be in the club.”

 ****

 

A day off.

 Lindsay even said the words aloud, wishing she could relish the sound of them.  She was soaking in a bubble bath, turning over the angles of the information Denise had imparted hours before.  Denise’s late night visit had ruined Lindsay’s day in every way possible.  Instead of planning a romantic evening with Cindy and hunting for a new place to live, Lindsay once again found her thoughts on murder… on him.

 When Cindy had come home last night, Lindsay had merely wrapped her lover up in her arms and held her, wishing she could share what she knew but keeping the news to herself for now.  Lindsay felt like Pete was making both her and Denise complicit in William Carter’s murder, but she was struggling to care.  Carter had deserved to die for what he did to Jill.  Lindsay didn’t mourn his passing or the way in which he’d left this world.  She was glad he was dead, but damn the fates for letting Pete Raynor be the one to send the bastard on his way.

 Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the bathroom door swung open with a bang.  Martha jumped and scampered into a standing position on the bath mat, barking in surprise at the unexpected visitor at the door.

 “Jesus, Cindy.  You about gave the dog a heart attack.”  Lindsay didn’t mention what Cindy’s entrance had done to her own heart rate.

 “I can’t believe you never told me,” Cindy whined.

 Lindsay froze, considering all the things she may or may not have told her lover in the time they’d been together.  Had Denise caved and spilled the news about Pete?  “Um… sorry?” she ventured hesitantly.

 “This is a big deal, Linz,” Cindy declared.  “I mean… this is unforgivable!”

 “Whoa.”  Lindsay held up her hands as worry began to set in.  “What?  What is it that you think I didn’t tell you?”

 “Hello there,” Jill drawled as she came up behind Cindy and peeked her head around the corner.

 “Hey!”  Lindsay slid further down into the tub. 

 “Relax, Linz, it’s not like I haven’t seen it all already,” the attorney stated a little too gleefully.

 “Out!”  Lindsay ordered.  “And so help me if Claire walks in here…”

 “Don’t be silly.  Claire is at home sleeping.”  Jill sauntered past an upset Cindy and closed the lid on the toilet before sitting on it primly.  “I, on the other hand, just had to come see this first hand.”

 “Would someone tell me what in the hell is going on?” Lindsay demanded peevishly.  Wordlessly, Cindy handed her a file folder.  Lindsay reached out to take it only to hesitate when water and bubbles dripped from her hand.  She flicked her wrist in irritation.  “Could someone hand me a towel first?”

 Jill did as requested, and Lindsay wiped her hands before accepting the folder and flipping it open.  She frowned.  “This is about that drug case narcotics and Snow are working?”  She was still a little pissed at Tom for giving the case to Snow, but at least she wasn’t the one in the press’s crosshairs this time as victims continued to stack up.  Maggie had to be feeling the heat, and Lindsay was secretly bemused at that fact, especially after the other inspector had gloated about landing the case.

 “Yep,” Jill answered easily.  She leaned down, almost going shoulder to shoulder with Lindsay.  “Look at the photo.  Third cop from the left.”

 Lindsay started to sit up as recognition dawned only to rapidly sink back down again when she felt the cold air brush parts of her anatomy that only Cindy and her doctor were allowed to see.

 “Look familiar?” Cindy demanded.

 “It’s Nikki,” Lindsay said softly, her voice catching a little on the name.

 “The original member of the club.  The one I replaced,” Cindy snipped.

 Her girlfriend was clearly pissed.  Lindsay looked at Jill for help.

 “Oh no.  Don’t look at me,” Jill said.  “I tried to explain to her already that this was no big deal, but Lois Lane here acts like we’re the Super Friends and we didn’t tell her the location of the Hall of Justice.”

Lindsay handed the file to Jill and focused her attention on Cindy.  “This really isn’t a big deal,” she promised.

 “Easy for you to say.  You aren’t the replacement.”  Cindy got a funny look on her face and abruptly exited the bathroom as suddenly as she’d arrived in it. 

 Lindsay looked back at Jill.

 “She’s your girlfriend,” Jill helpfully reminded her.

 Lindsay closed her eyes, held her breath, and slid under the water.

 Just when she thought the day couldn’t get any worse.

 **** 

 

“I don’t know why this is such a big deal,” Lindsay complained ten minutes later as she sat in a robe next to Jill on the couch as Cindy paced in front of them.  Her girlfriend was clearly upset, almost to the point of being agitated.  The tense set of Cindy’s shoulders made Lindsay hurt just looking at her, but she couldn’t understand why the news was making Cindy so mad.

 “I thought I had to work hard to convince you guys you needed a fourth member, but it turns out you already had one and didn’t tell me!” Cindy kept moving, ignoring the look she saw Jill and Lindsay exchange out of the corner of her eye.  “You let me think I’d done something I hadn’t.  I thought I was the original and now I found out that I’m like… Shemp or something.”

 “Shemp?” Jill asked with disbelief.  “Did you just compare us to the Three Stooges?”

 Lindsay bit her lip at Jill’s good mood, knowing that she was keeping news from her friend that she shouldn’t.  She just wasn’t sure if she was holding back for Jill’s sake or her own.  “It was a long time ago, Cindy.  Nikki has been gone for almost eight years.”

 Abruptly, Cindy stopped moving, plopping down into a leather chair and startling Martha whose head popped up from the rug in curiosity.  “I want to know what happened.  Why is she in New Orleans instead of here with you?  Why am I in her place?”

 “You’re not in her place,” Lindsay answered testily.  “Nikki is in New Orleans because she’s from there.  She went home when her mother died.”  It was the truth, Lindsay knew, it just lacked all the ugly details of Nikki’s departure.

 “There is something you’re not telling me,” Cindy guessed, her reporter instincts flaring.

 “We didn’t part on good terms,” Jill said, finally growing serious.  “Nikki…”  She glanced at Lindsay.  “Nikki was very close to her mom.  She didn’t take her death well.”

 Cindy fidgeted a little, sensing she’d stirred up some painful memories.  “What happened?”

 “She started drinking too much, partying too hard.”  Lindsay rubbed her bottom lip.  “She was missing work because of hangovers…”

 “And you let her do that?” Cindy cut Lindsay off in disbelief.

 “Even if we had,” Jill countered, “do you really think Claire would stand for that behavior?”  The attorney shook her head.  “We staged an intervention one night.  It turned ugly.  Words were said on both sides.  The next day, Nikki was gone.”

 “And you haven’t talked to her since?” Cindy asked in surprise.  “Wow, you guys really know how to carry a grudge.”

 Lindsay sighed and closed her eyes before leaning her head back on the couch.  They did know how to carry a grudge, but after all that had happened in the last two years alone, what had transpired with Nikki now seemed petty and stupid.

 “We were all hurt, Cindy,” Jill said quietly.  “And a lot dumber and younger then.  Time just kept passing and the next thing you know…”

 Cindy digested what she’d been told.  She slipped her BlackBerry out of her pocket and looked down at the email icon before clicking on it.  “You want to know how she’s doing now?” she asked in a hesitant voice, her brown eyes reviewing the information she’d had several interns digging up since she’d found out about Nikki Beaumont’s existence.

 Lindsay and Jill sat up a little.

 Cindy took that as a yes.  “Detective Nikki Beaumont moved from narcotics to the New Orleans Special Crimes division two years ago.  She’s received numerous commendations along with her partner Detective Nora Delaney.  She’s known in New Orleans high society circles for her charity work with battered women’s shelters.”

 “She got her act together,” Jill said with a hint of pride and relief. 

 Lindsay looked at her hands, feeling a weight she hadn’t known she’d carried fall away, but the ache that had bloomed in her chest when she saw Nikki’s photo intensified.  It was weird how she suddenly missed the other woman so much it hurt.  “She ever marry?”

 “Why?  Did you two date?” Cindy asked with a pointed glance at Jill before looking back at Lindsay.

 “No,” both Lindsay and Jill answered readily.

 Mollified for the moment, Cindy got to her feet and grabbed her jacket.  “Maybe you should call her,” she grumbled.  “Sounds like the original four musketeers might need to huddle on this one.”

 “Cindy…” Lindsay got to her feet just as her lover walked out the door, slamming it none too gently behind her.  Lindsay turned and looked at Jill.

 “She has a point,” Jill said after a moment.  “But I’m not calling Nikki.”

 “It’s not my case,” Lindsay said distractedly.

 “I’ll make Claire call,” Jill decided out loud to herself.

 They stared at each other for a moment before Lindsay dropped her gaze and moved toward the kitchen.  Jill frowned before getting to her feet and following.  She lounged in the doorway and watched as Lindsay retrieved a beer.

 “You okay?” the attorney asked.

 Lindsay bit her lip as she twisted the cap off.  She took her time with her first sip so she could school her features into a neutral expression. “Fine,” she answered matter-of-factly when she finally met Jill’s gaze again.

 “Is this about Maggie?”  Jill sighed.  “You guys are really going to have to give me a break here.”

 Lindsay shook her head.  “It’s not about Maggie.”

 “Then what?”

 “Nothing,” Lindsay said blandly.  “Nothing’s wrong.”

 “Worst.  Liar.  Ever.”  Jill crossed her arms and glared at her best friend.  “Something is going on in that pretty head.  Spill.”

 “My girlfriend is pissed at me,” Lindsay reminded her, waving her hand that held the beer toward the door Cindy had stormed out of minutes before.  “And a time in my life I’d just as soon forget just got dredged up.  Is that not enough?”

 Jill tilted her head, clearly not buying Lindsay’s excuses all the way.  “There is something else.”

 Lindsay sighed.  “It’s my problem for now, Jill.  I just need to work through it.”

 “So this is about Maggie,” Jill guessed.

 “It’s not about Maggie,” Lindsay groused.  “Do I like that you’re dating Hollywood?  Hell no,” she admitted, her Texas accent thickening on the curse.  “But I’ve never been able to do a thing about your questionable taste, and I’m not about to change that now.”

 “Okay,” Jill said after a moment, trying not to feel stung.  “Fine.  Whatever it is that’s making you so bitchy, you just keep it locked up inside like the old Lindsay would.  But do yourself a favor.  If you won’t tell me what it is, you sure as hell better tell Cindy.”   

 Lindsay did nothing to stop Jill from leaving in a huff.  The door slammed for the second time in ten minutes, and once again, Lindsay was blessedly alone.  Martha trotted into the kitchen and sat down in the doorway, regarding her master curiously.

 “You mad at me, too?” Lindsay drawled at the dog.

 Martha made a wuffing sound before turning tail and abandoning her grouchy owner for a patch of sunlight and some snooze time now that the excitement seemed to be over.

 “Lovely,” Lindsay mumbled before swallowing another mouthful of beer.

 ****

 

Feeling wired, pissed and restless, Jill made her way back to the Hall.  She knew she needed to crash for a few hours of sleep, but her brain was whirring through subject after subject, never settling for long on any of them.  She needed to organize her scattered thoughts, and the only place she’d ever really been able to do that was in her office.

 Rounding the corner, Jill spotted Denise coming her way.  She managed a smile much easier than she once had for her boss, and Denise dipped her head in curt greeting just as the Acting District Attorney’s cell phone rang and she answered it.  Jill had to admit Denise looked sharp today, her long black hair pulled back and tied into a loose braid.  Her boss was sporting a black suit with an ice blue blouse and killer high heels, and Jill’s eyes were drawn to her toned calves as Denise walked past her, chatting with whoever it was on the phone.

 A flash of her dream from the night before flickered across Jill’s mind in Technicolor, and she averted her gaze, feeling heat crawl up her cheeks.  Both aroused and mortified, Jill almost jogged the rest of the distance to her office.  She had her hand on the doorknob when a soft cry from the hallway captured her complete attention.

 A crack of plastic on marble followed as Denise’s cell phone slipped from her nerveless fingers and shattered all over the floor.  Jill sprinted toward her boss as Denise staggered into the wall before slumping down it.  In her haste, Jill accidentally kicked a piece of Denise’s phone, sending it skittering down the hallway.

 “Go away, Bernhardt,” Denise gasped out, her hands over her face.

 Jill could hear tears in Denise’s voice and the sound made the attorney’s stomach clench.  Shock rippled through her as she grabbed Denise’s wrists, her thumbs stroking over the back of her boss’s hands.  The skin was ice cold to the touch.  “Come on.  Let’s at least get you out of the hallway before anyone sees you.”  It wasn’t the real reason Jill wanted to help, but she knew it would get Denise moving and it did.

 A few moments later, Jill closed the door to her office and led a shaking Denise to a chair.  “Sit,” Jill almost whispered, feeling shaken to the core by Denise’s loss of composure.  She moved to the mini-fridge she kept in a corner of her office and opened it, fetching a bottle of water before returning to Denise and kneeling next to her.  “Here.”  She wrapped Denise’s limp fingers around the bottle.  “Tell me what happened.”

 Denise looked at her as if she were finally aware of Jill’s presence.  “This doesn’t concern you…”

 “You’re my boss,” Jill argued.  “And you’re upset.  Like it or not, that concerns me,” Jill retorted.

 Denise’s jaw clenched as she clearly willed herself to gain some control.  “That was the medical examiner’s office on the phone,” she struggled to say.

 Jill took a breath.  “Claire?”

 A rapid shake of Denise’s head was the answer.  “No.  Another ME.  Ricker.”

 Familiar with the name and the man, Jill nodded.  “What did he say?”

 “The victim you found on the waterfront last night…”

 The ache in Jill’s stomach worsened enough to make her wince.  She thought of the pretty young Asian woman whose life had ended there.  Suddenly, a crystal clear image of the woman’s face came into focus.  Jill remembered seeing the victim standing next to a smiling Denise in a beautiful pewter picture frame that sat on the edge of Denise’s desk.  It was the only personal memento in her boss’s office.  “Oh damn,” Jill breathed.

 “She was my sister.”

 ****

 

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