Archive of Our Own

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PART ONE

THE LODGE
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Sunday | Lucy
."You know, Mid-Wilshire will survive without you for one week .”The reflection of the setting sun in the rearview mirror was glaring into Lucy’s eyes. She squinted harder, thumbs moving at lightning speed across her phone screen. “Mhmm,” she hummed as she sent off another barrage of texts. “Hello? Earth to Lucy?”“Uhh . . .” There. Final message sent. For now.“Sorry,” she said quickly, turning her head to see Tim’s slightly-amused smirk that he was obviously trying to hide, his eyes still fixed on the vast expanse of road ahead of them. “Harper stayed late to work this case, and I had to–” she tried to explain, motioning vaguely at her phone. “Lucy,” he interrupted gently. “She has it covered. Take a break.”She tossed her phone into the cupholder and leaned her head back on the seat . . . and released a long sigh. “I know, I know.”“Remember what Grey said? Take a breather, Detective . . .”“. . . That’s an order,” they both said in unison, both remembering the fake sternness their lieutenant exhibited before (almost gleefully) sending them away on a much-needed vacation.“I just feel bad,” Lucy admitted. “I should be there. The cases have really piled up and they’re both so busy with the kids, and I’m going to have plenty of free time later–”“Hey, stop,” Tim interrupted again. This time he nudged her hand where it was resting on the center console. “Thorsen can pitch in with extra cases this week. And besides, you need this. I hear maternity leave isn’t exactly relaxing .”“Yeah, no, you’re right,” Lucy sighed . . . again. Her hand rested comfortably on the rise of her abdomen.It’s true: she had been extra stressed lately. Not like her job wasn’t stressful on the daily anyway, but her new responsibilities as a detective with the longer hours and extra brain-power requirements reminded her of undercover work, which had a knack for depleting her energy faster than she would have ever thought possible. Either that, or these little bundles of joy growing inside her were sucking every bit of life and energy from her with more gusto than she thought. “Like father, like kids,” she chuckled under her breath. “Hmm?” She turned her body in her seat to angle slightly more toward the driver’s side of the truck, trying to find a comfortable position and patting Tim’s free hand as she did. “Oh, I was just thinking that you and these children of yours all love testing my patience.”He raised his eyebrows, barely hiding a smirk. “Do we, now?”“Mmhm. I’m going to have my work cut out for me when they get here.”She swore his expression looked smug. Idiot....“Oh, wow . . .” Lucy breathed. In front of them, the Rocky Mountains rose toward the sky, bordered by rolling hills and expansive fields of snow. In a way, it reminded her of California, just . . . colder. The decision to vacation to Colorado had not been an easy one.They had gone back and forth for what felt like weeks, giving pros and cons and what-ifs until they were sick of the topic. In the end, she made the executive decision with the explanation that, “We can see the ocean anytime.” So they browsed travel blogs and read reviews and asked for recommendations, finally coming to the conclusion that they should spend their January anniversary trip in Sasquatch’s buttcrack, also known as one of the most beautiful national parks in the world. It had seemed like a wonderful, romantic, cozy plan at the time . . . but now she questioned the solidity of their combined decision making skills in booking a trip to Rocky Mountain National Park in the middle of winter.They had been so confident in their decision; Nolan had even said that he took his family there for Henry’s tenth birthday and that it was the– “Best family trip ever. Really beautiful.” The only problem . . . neither Lucy nor Tim had ever spent any significant amount of time anywhere with an average temperature of less than sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit, and the truck’s outdoor thermometer currently read 20°. Ouch.A quick stop in Boulder for a bathroom break (who knew two people this tiny could wreak this much havoc on a bladder?) and some early dinner, and they were off again, driving through valleys and winding roads, bordered by rocky cliffs and low, brushy, snow-covered evergreens. “You know,” Lucy said, still drinking in the scenery, “now that we’re being forced to relax, we have to take full advantage of it.”“Thought you’d never ask–”“O-okay, slow down,” she swatted his arm and grinned at his mischievous smirk. “This mama needs a walk and a long nap first after fifteen hours in a car. What I meant was, this place has a spa, a sauna, a giant fireplace in the lobby, all-inclusive meals three times a day . . .”Tim nodded. “Sounds like paradise.”“ And, ” she added, pointing to the mountains in the distance, “hiking. I hear there’s some great cliffside ice-pick climbing trails.”He shot her a quick side-eye, his mouth half open in disbelief. “You’re insane.”“I’m joking, ” she assured him. “The dynamic duo in here demand that I stay within a hundred feet of indoor plumbing at all times.”With a short chuckle, he reached across the center console to pat her stomach. “Thanks, kiddos.”Suddenly, she gasped, “Wait!” and grabbed Tim’s hand just to move it slightly to the left. He looked quickly over at her, puzzled. She gestured for him to wait some more . . . And there it was again. A tiny foot, or maybe a balled-up fist, seemingly determined to break through to the outside world, hitting their father’s hand with a vigor.She looked over to her husband, whose face was plastered with the most dorky grin she’d ever seen. And she could read his mind: This never got old. Out of all the undercover ops she’d run and random jobs she’d worked and cases she’d solved . . . pregnancy was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her. It made no sense. These tiny children dictated what she ate, how she slept, when she used the bathroom, and to what capacity her brain could function at any given moment. And she hadn’t even met the kids yet. Would she die for these little alien babies a million times over? Absolutely. Was she baffled by their mere existence and fed up with all their many demands? Also, yes. “Hey, you know what today is, right?”Now it was her turn to give Tim a side-eye. “. . . Other than two days before our anniversary?”He glanced over at her, quickly enough to keep his eyes safely on the road but long enough for her to notice a certain glimmer of . . . nostalgia? It was that open, honest expression that she’d come to love so much, reserved just for her. With her, he was so different from the Sergeant Bradford most people knew. Here, he could be just Tim. Her Tim. “It’s James and Nyla’s anniversary,” he was saying. “That first night we danced together. Remember?”Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes as she met his gaze for that split-second, and she silently cursed the pregnancy hormones.“Yeah,” she managed, swallowing hard to push back the next barrage of tears. But she smiled at the memory. String lights and champagne and cool January air and laughter and music . . . and most of all, the sharp tugging in her chest as they danced and he held her hand so gently. The feeling that she hadn’t been able to place until that night in her apartment before their undercover op as Dim and Juicy. Practicing. And being bombarded with the realization that the affection she had for her T.O.-turned-sergeant-turned-best-friend might not have been quite as platonic as she told herself it was. “Yeah, I remember,” she said around the random lump in her throat. “That was a great night.”His expression changed quickly at the sound of her choked-up voice. “Hey. You okay?”“Yeah, just . . . sorry,” she laughed, still wiping away tears. “God, that was a long time ago. And it’s crazy, because that night was . . .” She trailed off, suddenly unable to keep going. Unable to piece the words together to describe how much that night meant to her. That simple evening of dancing and his promise to give her credit for their teamwork that really boosted her career. It had meant a lot then, and now looking back it really was even more meaningful than she could have described or realized. Thankfully, Tim knew her so well. “It was the first time I admitted it to myself,” he said quietly. “Admitted what?”He caught her gaze for another second and smiled. “That what I was feeling for you wasn’t exactly professional. I was just too stubborn to see it before.”This time, she laughed outright and grabbed his free hand. “Yeah, you were. Just couldn’t resist the Lucy charm, hmm?”They’d talked about this sort of thing before. He had told her most of this already. How he’d had some sort of feelings for her even before she ever graduated from the FTO program but never allowed himself to acknowledge it. How something fundamentally shifted inside of him while he frantically searched for her when she was captured by Caleb. And how after that he never wanted to let her out of his sight. He’d always felt a responsibility toward all his rookies, understandably, but something was different that time.But that specific moment at the wedding reception . . . she’d had no idea. She couldn’t believe how insanely fast those years flew by.It seemed like just yesterday she was a starry-eyed new rookie sitting in the front row at her first roll call, looking back and catching the intense, narrow gaze of her training officer. Who knew that almost seven years later he would be sitting here beside her in his pickup truck, driving them to a romantic getaway in the mountains, his thumb fiddling idly with the wedding ring on her finger, talking about names for their unborn twins.Crazy....There it was. Terra Bella Mountain Lodge.  Lucy had spent hours combing through online reviews for different places in Estes Park, and this one just kept catching her eye. It was small, but not too small. Vaulted ceilings, carefully-crafted masonry, log-cabin charm, and most importantly? King sized beds and jacuzzis with phenomenal views of the Rockies.Snow crunched under the truck tires as they pulled into the lot. Tim threw it into park and practically sprinted around the cab to help Lucy down before she could even open the door. “You go get us checked in,” he said. “I’ll grab the bags.”She nodded and picked her way across the snowy parking lot, trying to juggle the act of keeping her balance at six months pregnant with twins, not biffing it on the pavement, and admiring the mountains all at the same time. She could see puffs of her breath evaporate into the air and felt the needles of icy wind tickling her neck and sending shivers along her whole body.  How do people live here? She pulled her coat tighter around her body and shuffled quickly toward the door.A wave of heat hit her in the face the moment she walked in. It was gorgeous. Even more grandiose than the pictures suggested. The lodge smelled like pine trees and old wood polishing oil. The ceiling stretched upwards at least thirty feet, with exposed bulbs and lanterns hanging from the raw-cut rafters in the most tasteful of ways. A massive stone fireplace was surrounded by the most comfortable-looking couch and chairs she’d ever seen, that she would most definitely need Tim to haul her out of if she sat down. A moose head was mounted right above the hearth, looking down over the lobby with its sad brown eyes. And hugging the fireplace were two windows that stretched up to the ceiling, framing the distant mountains perfectly in all their snow-capped glory.All in all, the scene was absolutely picturesque.If she forgot about the biting cold outside, she could stay here forev–“But I did my research!” a woman’s voice interrupted Lucy’s distracted musings, and she turned toward the sound.At the front desk (also log-cabin-themed) stood a family who looked just about as far out of their element as Lucy felt. The man was standing with one elbow leaning on the counter, the other hand wrapped around his son’s shoulders. The boy didn’t look like he could be much older than six, if her guess was right. They both sported matching flannel shirts under zip-up hoodies, and it made Lucy’s heart melt a little bit. The woman was holding a small toddler with little purple bows in her hair and a stuffed eagle in her fist. The woman pointed animatedly at a small binder while the receptionist looked about ready to sink into a puddle behind the counter. “Babe,” the man said and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Amy, we don’t need that kind of package. The kids hate swimming anyway.”At his touch, the woman – Amy – sighed and was quiet for a moment. “Okay,” she acquiesced, and gathered her binder. “Forget the hot spring, but can we at least get sauna access?”At that, the receptionist smiled (still looking pained) and handed over a couple key cards. “Of course. Enjoy your stay.”“Tha-a-nks,” the man chimed in, drawing out the A sound in a sing-song way. He turned, holding onto the boy’s hand, and headed toward the staircase.“Ka-a-in Kain,” the little girl said, mimicking her dad’s sing-song voice. “Kai-i-in.”“Jake!” Amy called, and started pointedly at the three suitcases still sitting at the desk. Immediately he doubled back with a chuckle. “Oh, right.”With the adorable family gathering their things and juggling their kids, Lucy just smiled and approached the front desk. “I have a reservation for Tim and Lucy Bradford,” she said as sweetly and calmly as she could. The receptionist’s name tag read Vesa Wescott , and she looked just a bit frazzled from the previous encounter. Hopefully a friendly face and easy questions could help her relax. Key cards received, paperwork signed, easy as one-two-three. She thanked Vesa profusely, gushing about the beauty of this lodge, and rushed to hold the door open for her husband. Tim’s face was beet-red from the cold as he stumbled in, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He wore one backpack on his back, one in front, carried two tote bags in his left hand, and dragged the truly enormous rolling duffel bag in his right. “Did we really need to pack this much? ” he asked with a grunt as Lucy removed one of the backpacks and both totes. “It takes a lot to look this good, babe,” she joked with a dramatic toss of her hair. One flight of stairs later (complete with Tim gently cursing under his breath, struggling with the awkward, lumpy weight of the duffel bag while simultaneously pretending it was no big deal) and their week of paradise was waiting for them.To say the room was absolutely beautiful would be an understatement.The first thing she noticed, again, was the picturesque mountain view right out the ornately-trimmed window, arching up from the base of the wainscoting all the way up to the ceiling. The walls were decorated in dark, moody forest green and slabs of raw-edge pine logs. The rafters hung low above them, creating a sense of warmth and cozy comfortability. Gold and deep blue accents pulled the whole thing together, subtly echoing the scenery outside. “Oh my god,” she breathed. “This is gorgeous. ” Tim tossed the bags down with an unceremonious thunk and made a show of leaning back, stretching out his limbs and groaning like he just ran a hundred mile ruck. He shut the door behind them and strolled forward, snaking his arms around her from behind. Rested his chin on the crook of her neck and his breath tickled the back of her ear. “I know how we could enjoy the scenery best . . .”She grinned, turned, and gently but swiftly removed his hands from any further wandering. “Uh uh,” she scolded, trying to hold back a giddy laugh (and failing). “Plenty of time for that later. Right now . . . ” she patted her bulging belly, “these two are hungry, which means mama’s hungry, which means shower, then dinner. Then we can talk.” She winked slyly, grabbed her tote bag, and headed into the bathroom. “I was going to say by building a snowman,” he called after her, that adorable half grin on his face and a heartfelt glimmer in his eyes . . . that was promptly ruined by his following, “But you’ll definitely need help in the shower, right?”
“Tim!”
...
Monday | Lucy
.Time moved differently in the mountains. By the time Lucy woke up to the early morning sun on her face and the babies doing parkour off her bladder, she felt like she’d lived here her whole life. Like all she’d ever known was pure peace, Swedish meatball dinners, and ice-cold weather. She tried not to grunt too loudly as she swung her legs off the side of the bed and pushed herself into a sitting position. Beside her, Tim lay spread-eagle, limbs going every which way, mouth half open in deep, sleepy bliss. After a deliciously warm shower, a change into her stretchiest leggings and biggest hoodie, and her morning dose of Tums, she made her way down to the lobby, crime novel in hand.Thankfully, the lodge served cold, pre-packaged breakfast items before the morning buffet was open, and Lucy took full advantage of the pop tarts and apple slices. She was standing in front of the low, cushy couches, eyeing them up and down and trying to weigh the consequences (if she sat down, she might never get back up, but they did look deliciously comfy), when she noticed someone coming down the stairs out the corner of her eye. It was the woman from yesterday – Amy – but this time sans the binder and the intense stare.Lucy turned and gave her a warm smile, and half-watched as she grabbed a banana from the breakfast bar, gave it to her toddler and sent the little girl on her way to the kid area, where picture books and wooden toys awaited. Amy approached quietly, clearly wanting to say hi but not wanting to intrude on Lucy’s personal space. So Lucy offered a wave at the newcomer and another friendly grin.“Deciding if it’s worth it?” Amy asked, motioning to the couch in question. When Lucy nodded, feeling a little sheepish, Amy laughed knowingly. “I’m sticking around for a while if that helps your decision. Gotta enjoy the fire, you know?”She could feel her chest warm with joy in this newfound motherly camaraderie. “That does help, actually,” she said, relieved, and carefully lowered herself down while Amy curled up in the neighboring chair. “Letting your boys sleep?” Lucy guessed.“Oh, yeah,” Amy said. “Those two would sleep all day if I let them.” She rolled her eyes and scanned the room, her gaze finally landing on her daughter playing a few feet away. “I could never turn my brain off like that.”Lucy laughed quietly. “Me neither. Too much going on all the time.”“I know!” Amy agreed. “I mean, I don’t know how he does it. One kid was hard enough, but especially going back to work after Bree was born, it’s like there’s something happening twenty-four, seven! Jake stays home with the kids, so he takes care of grocery shopping and laundry and everything, but somehow he’s still the one who can just shut his brain off whenever he feels like it.”At Lucy’s slightly-horrified expression, Amy backtracked. “Oh, I’m so sorry–”Lucy shook her head and waved a hand. “No, no, you’re fine, I know what to expect. Two of my coworkers have kids too, and they already gave me the rundown on everything. The good and especially the ugly.”Amy smiled gently, with all the empathy in the world. “Sorry to scare you. It’s all worth it, I promise.”“Thanks.” She pulled her legs up onto the couch, sitting as curled-up and comfortable as she could. “So,” Amy asked, “I’m guessing this is your first?”Lucy smiled. “First two, actually.”People always reacted more strongly when she told anyone she was having twins, and Amy was no exception. “No way!”“Yeah, we were not expecting it,” she laughed, remembering the way Tim’s eyes had bugged out when the ultrasound tech pointed out two little blobs on the screen instead of just one. “Twins don’t run in my family as far as I know, but the doctor is pretty sure they’re identical anyway.” She rested her hands on her stomach and was greeted by a furious kick from one of her babies.“Well, huge congratulations! Pun . . . not intended,” Amy amended, making a motion with her hands mimicking the exaggerated size Lucy’s belly was destined to be after another month or two. That made Lucy burst out in laughter. Much needed after the week she just had, and totally unexpected from this small, serious-looking woman beside her...She could have talked with Amy for hours. In a strange way, she reminded Lucy a lot of Tim, with her matter-of-factness and no-nonsense attitude, complete with the hint of a fun streak that she would bet anything only came out every once in a while around the right people. Her general mannerisms were similar to Tim’s, too. Like how she sat up straight as a rod even while relaxing, how her brain seemed to run on actual gears, it was so methodical, and how her eyes scanned the room every so often while she talked, starting at the staircase, then to the front door, then the front desk, then over to where little Bree played happily with some bright-colored blocks in the corner. Right on cue, just as Amy’s eyes were fixed on her daughter, the girl decided she was done with blocks and brought a board book over to the couch. She first looked up at Lucy, then over at her mom, then at Lucy again, before finally clambering onto the couch with a decided grunt, settling herself in until her little feet just barely reached to the edge of the cushion.“Hi,” the little girl announced in a tiny yet powerful voice, complete with a distinct lisp, her enormous brown eyes staring holes into Lucy’s soul. “I’m Bree. I’m three.”“Hello, Bree,” Lucy replied gently, tears threatening to well up in her eyes. “I’m Lucy.” She looked up at Amy and mouthed, SO CUTE.  “Miss Lu-ucy?” Bree asked, solemn and still as a three year old could be. Lucy leaned down as far as the twins would let her, to listen to what this absolute sweetheart had to say. “Yes, ma’am?”“Did you–” Bree took a breath. “Did you know that my mama . . . My mama is a–” she brought a hand to her mouth to stage-whisper the last word. “Police.”Lucy gasped in faux-surprise. “She is?” “Bree,” Amy scolded. “We don’t need to just tell people that.”“It’s okay,” Lucy said with a big grin. She knew it. “Me too. Detective, actually.”Little Bree grinned like she’d unlocked a massive secret, kicked her feet, and flipped through the pages in her board book.“Really?” Amy raised her eyebrows. “Where, if you don’t mind me asking?”“Not at all, um– Los Angeles. Mid-Wilshire division.”At that, Amy laughed, delighted. “We’re right across the country from you, then.” She clapped a hand to her chest. “New York City. Brooklyn.”Suddenly and before Lucy could so much as blink, Bree’s head shot up and she scrambled off the couch and bolted toward the staircase. “Daddy-y-y!” she screeched, probably waking up half the lodge.“She’s a daddy’s girl alright,” Amy said.Lucy laughed. “Oh, really? I couldn’t tell.”She watched as Bree practically hurled herself at her dad, who scooped her up and swung her around a few times, somehow laughing and yawning at the same time, their older son rubbing his eyes and shuffling along behind him. The toddler settled herself into her dad’s arms, snuggled up against his chest, and rested her head on his shoulder. “Morning, cheesy,” Amy’s husband said – Jake, Lucy remembered – to his daughter.
Cheesy?
Lucy’s expression must have changed minutely, because Amy immediately sighed and explained, “It’s a dumb nickname. Our son’s name is McClane – Mac for short.”It took her a moment.“Oh my god,” Lucy giggled. “Mac and cheese. That’s adorable.” Then the realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she stared at her new friend, incredulous. “Oh my god, Bree?” Amy nodded, gracefully walking the line between being embarrassed and being amazingly confident in and proud of the names she and Jake chose for their children. “Yup. Like the cheese. Just spelled differently.”Lucy clapped a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I promise I actually love it.”“Just takes you by surprise, huh?” Amy laughed. “Our parents were horrified. But I think it works.”“It totally does.” Lucy nodded. “Subtle and creative. Amy, you’re officially my hero.”She watched Jake walk around the couch to stop behind Amy’s chair and drop a kiss on his wife’s head. “Morning, Ames. Any idea when breakfast is?”...During breakfast, Lucy watched the sky fill with clouds and a few flurries of snow begin dusting the already-white ground. She didn’t know much about snow, but it looked rather harmless, and incredibly gorgeous.She had insisted that the Peralta-Santiago family eat with them so Tim could meet everyone. And meanwhile, she had learned that Jake was also a detective for many years before he left the force to be a full time stay at home dad. “What was your favorite part about detective work?” Lucy asked through a mouthful of biscuit. Beside her, Tim was deep in conversation with Amy about the ins and outs of being a sergeant in various departments. And across from her, Jake was making his best attempt at keeping Bree from spreading oatmeal across her entire body and mashing it into her brother’s hair. Finally, he removed the oatmeal from his daughter’s grasp, replaced it with a string cheese stick, and tucked back into his absolutely massive plate of eggs, biscuits, and sausage, all topped with heaps of gravy. “Well,” he said in answer to her question, “when my wife is listening–” he glanced to the side, where Amy made no sign that she’d heard him, “I tell people it was the difference I could make in my community. But seriously?” He leaned in closer, the strings of his hoodie a mere centimeter away from dragging through his food. “You know that moment when you solve a case and it’s like a switch flips and all the pieces just suddenly fit together like magic?”Lucy gasped. “Oh my god, yes. Totally.”Jake grinned from ear to ear. “So,” she had to ask. “Then if you loved it so much, why did you leave?”He stared down at his food again, then looked to his left where Bree sat up in a child’s seat attached to the dining chair and Mac poked holes in his pancakes to make faces at his sister through . . . and Lucy saw nothing but pure, unblemished love for his children. “When this guy was a baby, I just thought, being his dad is more important to me than cracking cases all day long.” “That’s really sweet,” Lucy said quietly, a lump forming in her throat. She had been over it in her mind now for the five months she’d been aware of her pregnancy, wondering how they could make it when the twins arrived. She and Tim both loved their jobs and wouldn’t give them up for the world . . . but what if her children meant more than the world? Nannies and daycare were expensive, and while neither she nor Tim were lacking for anything, they weren’t rich. And at the moment, the thought of letting someone else care for her tiny babies all day long almost made her want to vomit.  That’s a bridge I can cross later, she reasoned with herself. No use borrowing trouble when so much could change in just a few months. A solution would present itself before long, that much she was sure of. “Maybe sweet in theory,” Jake amended with a short laugh. “Until they start pulling stunts like–” At that very moment, Bree apparently decided it would be a great idea to throw her entire weight at the back of the chair with absolutely no warning, and since it was a fairly lightweight chair to begin with, and at three years old she barely weighed more than the chair itself, the whole thing tipped with only one push.Thankfully, both Jake and Amy’s reflexes were top-notch from years of practice, and they both just barely grabbed Bree by one arm each before she went careening away, slamming into the unforgiving tile floor. But although she wasn’t hurt, the shock was enough to send her into a panic, and she immediately reached for her mom and latched herself onto Amy’s neck, wailing and screaming with the whole power of her small lungs. The rest of the dining room turned their heads to see what caused the commotion, but Amy was quick, and was already halfway out the door and into the lobby, shushing and bouncing the girl on the way.Jake’s eyes never left his wife and daughter until they were out of sight, and even then his gaze was fixed on the huge, double oak doors. Lucy hadn’t even realized she was gripping Tim’s forearm. “Dad?” Mac’s little voice piped up. “Is Bree okay?”Finally Jake turned and smiled down at his son, handing his fork over and pushing the plate of pancakes toward him. “She’s fine, buddy,” he assured Mac. “Just got scared for a second.” Stunts like that, Lucy finished Jake’s earlier sentence in her mind. Anything could happen with kids, at any time. It was scary to think about. She recalled Harper’s story of those men breaking into their house, grabbing Leah, then dropping her in a bush before speeding off in their car. And while that had been for no other reason than to intimidate them and throw them off, the raw, carnal fear of losing their child had almost driven Nyla and James to the point of momentary insanity. Or the story Wesley told of Jack swallowing a button battery. Thankfully, the nanny’s quick thinking and a nearby ambulance had quite literally saved his life.But still . . . anything could happen. Somehow, Tim could always read her mind, and even though Jake and Mac were back to goofing off like nothing had happened, it left Lucy’s thoughts spinning down a rabbit trail of future unknowns and possibilities. So, her husband shoved the last piece of bacon into his mouth, took Lucy’s dishes for her, and they excused themselves. “How does a long walk in the snow sound?” he asked. She breathed a long sigh of relief. “Like you know me too well.”..Stepping outside into an actual snowstorm was like nothing Lucy had ever experienced. She held Tim’s arm as they made their way along the winding paths. Sharp, icy air invaded her nose and seemed to tickle her brain, and she suddenly became acutely aware of her sinuses. It felt like they would freeze up at any moment. It was quite unpleasant, but the rest of the experience more than made up for it. Falling snow brushed her face and stuck to her eyelashes. Sunshine glinted off the fresh powder, making it look like someone had covered the whole earth in glitter. She could barely see the faint outline of mountains in the distance, with the thick snow creating a haze that almost blocked them from view. “So I was thinking,” she said as they picked their way across the icy paths. “If they’re girls . . . Calla and Dahlia.”Tim raised one eyebrow, and she could tell he was only pretending to consider it. “Are those–”“Flowers.” She nodded.“They’re . . .” he faltered, “pretty.”“Ivy and Rose?” she offered.“Or, if they’re boys,” he countered, “Remington and Winchester.”Lucy’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Are you trying to get our children bullied forever?”He laughed, raising his free hand in mock-surrender. “It would build character.”“You’re impossible.”The snow was really starting to pick up. After only about thirty minutes of walking, the mountains went from just hazy to near-impossible to see at all, and it made Lucy do a double take. She turned her head back toward the way they’d come, and the vague outline of the lodge was blurry and distorted. “Think we’d better turn around?”Tim nodded. “I wouldn’t want to get stuck out in this.”As they retraced their steps, the back of Lucy’s neck tingled. And it wasn’t just from the cold. Something about the severity of the snow storm made her chest tighten and her intuition send warning signals down her spine.Something was off, and she couldn’t put her finger on it....As it turned out, the Peralta-Santiago family loved board games. Amy coolly and easily worked on out-strategizing Jake and Tim in Catan, the kids sorted their parents’ pieces on the table, and Lucy watched the quickly-falling snow outside. It looked wetter than before, with flakes the size of golf balls. It was accumulating faster than she’d thought possible. Just two hours ago, it had been halfway up one of the covered patio chairs, and now she couldn’t see that chair at all, and the snow was at least double the height of the rec room’s low wainscoting – maybe four feet, if Lucy had to guess.“It’s your turn. Lucy-”She whipped her head around. “Hm?”The three adults were staring at her, laughter in their eyes (and straight up ice in Amy’s). “Sorry.” She could feel her face warm and she quickly scanned the board to catch up. “The snow is really piling up out there.”“Yeah,” Jake said. “More than I’ve ever seen in New York.”“More than I’ve ever seen anywhere, ” Lucy said.From the corner of her eye and all the way across the lobby, Lucy noticed someone running down the stairway so fast she thought he would trip and fall on his face before he ever reached the end. But he managed it, and made a beeline for the front desk. In the back of her mind, a bell rang. The man looked oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Probably some B-list celebrity she’d run into on the streets of LA. It had happened before.Vaguely, she heard his frantic, echoing voice tell the receptionist, “Thief! There’s someone stealing from our rooms!”At that, one sergeant, one police chief, one undercover-cop-turned-detective, and one ex-detective had their full attention turned toward the lobby. Lucy exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Tim, and the Catan board lay momentarily forgotten. Amy held an earnest finger to her lips, signaling the kids to stop chattering and the adults to wait and see how the conversation played out.“Sir,” Vesa at the front desk said with that placating customer service voice. “Please calm down. What’s the problem?”“I’m telling you, my wife left her bracelet on the counter and now it’s gone. And my good cologne.”“Sir, I’m sure there’s an explanation. Housekeeping might have moved them to clean the bathroom.”“No, we got here this morning.”“Housekeeping cleans during lunch.”“I swear. I searched the whole room twice. It was a gold bracelet, a family heirloom.”“I’ll keep my eyes open for it, okay?”There was a stretch of silence, and Lucy could practically feel the man about to blow a gasket.“Yeah,” he finally said. “Fine.”“What’s your name? I’ll let you know if it turns up.”“Silas Kearney.”“I’ll keep you posted, Mr. Kearney.”With a grumble and a pronounced huff, Silas turned and meandered back toward the mountain-facing window to watch the snow fall.That was her cue.Lucy shoved her chair back and almost stood, when Tim grabbed her elbow and gently tugged her back down.“What?” she demanded. “I can’t help him?”“Luce, you know the lady’s right. Housekeeping was probably just sloppy today. It’ll show up.”Her eyes flicked around the table, where Amy and Jake watched the man standing by the window, their faces mirroring each other in deep consideration and what Lucy could only categorize as experienced curiosity. Like they’d seen this before and were pretty sure where it was going.“I don’t know . . .” Jake said in answer to Tim’s statement. “I think there’s some shenanigans going on.”“Ugh, Jake, ” Amy said, exasperated. “Please don’t make this about your cop shows again.”The ex-detective in question suddenly became the picture of guilty innocence. “I wh-” he stuttered, eyes wide, “I wasn’t . . . I wasn’t gonna.”“Plus,” Tim added, stubbornly defending himself, “the local police will get involved if it’s anything serious.”This time it was Amy’s turn to disagree. She shook her head and motioned toward the window, where everything was completely white, and not even the outline of a tree could be seen. “No one’s getting through that until they can do some serious plowing.”“You know what that also means,” Lucy added. “If there is a thief in here, they’re not getting out either.”“Unless they have skis,” Jake said.“They’d have to be stupid to ski in this kind of blizzard,” Amy almost laughed.Lucy shot Tim a blatant I-told-you-so glance and slapped a hand on the table. “Which means – we have until this blizzard calms down to catch this guy.” But before she could stand up to go talk to Silas, she looked to where he had been standing . . . and sighed in frustration. He was gone....Lucy had no idea that clouds could hold this much snow.To her right, the small TV across the lobby quietly played the weather channel. “. . . Freak uncharted snowstorm,” the lady was saying. “Covering most of Estes Park and the surrounding areas in upwards of four to five feet of snow by the end of the night. Crews are working to evacuate guests and clear the roads, but all efforts may be in vain, as the blizzard seems to only be increasing in severity, with a visibility of only about two to three meters. Next up, snow survival tips for the–” “Ninety-five feet of snow fell in Washington in the nineties,” she said in awe, scrolling through the Google results on her phone while trying to ignore the doomsday announcements from the TV.Tim gave a low whistle from beside her, the comforting weight of his arm resting around her shoulders. In front of them, the fire blazed hot, a stark contrast to the unforgiving white outside.Lucy craned her neck around to catch a glimpse of the unattended front desk. “The employees sure can’t get home now, huh? Think they’ll be okay?”“I’m sure they’re used to this,” Tim said. “They probably stock the kitchen to last weeks, at least. And bring an overnight bag.”Lucy hummed idly, not fully convinced but willing to accept her husband’s reasoning. She just worried for them, that was all. In the nine hours since breakfast, the snow had reached at least six feet, if not more. Every car in the lot was completely covered, the doors would be almost impossible to open without an avalanche into the building, and the upstairs emergency exit doors were out of the question, unless someone wanted to jump down into two meters of snow and then promptly get lost in the blinding white wind. All things considered, she was impressed that the lodge even still had electricity.One thing was sure, now. Everyone in this lodge was stranded for the time being. ...The snow eventually stopped accumulating, but the wind continued to blow long into the night, making any sort of visibility impossible, and causing drifts of up to eight feet, all along the west-facing wall of the lodge. The parking lot had no indication of any cars, except a couple barely-there lumps in the expanse of white.And to top it all off . . . Lucy couldn’t sleep.She never had trouble sleeping. Her circadian rhythm was as predictable as time itself, even with the crazy hours she worked. So, staring at the ceiling was not something she normally did. But here she was, in the most comfortable bed she’d ever occupied in her life , lying on her left side, with her husband pressed up against her back, his slow, warm breath tickling her shoulder. Slowly, she checked the time. 1:09 AM. Fantastic.Maybe it was just nerves. She’d never been stranded in a snowstorm before, and the claustrophobia of it all was starting to get to her. A million scenarios were running through her mind at the same time. What if she went into preterm labor and they couldn’t get to the tiny hospital in Estes Park? The twins were still much, much too young to survive outside the NICU. What if there really was a thief here, who wasn’t just interested in stealing jewelry and expensive cologne? What if the person was some sort of twisted psychopath and went after the Peralta-Santiago kids? What if this snow could never be cleared and they were trapped here forever with limited food and frozen pipes?  Stop it, Chen, she scolded herself. You know better. The up-side of being in a high-stress, unpredictable career and coming from a family of therapists was that she was never short on coping strategies. And she knew that right now, all she needed was a drink of water, a little movement, and some breathing exercises. So she carefully extracted herself from Tim’s arms, thanked any higher power that he was such a deep sleeper, sat up with all the grace of a newborn elephant, donned a robe over her long pajamas, and made her way out into the hall. As she paced back and forth from one end of the hallway to the other, breathing slowly in through the nose and out through the mouth, she could feel her stress slowly melting away. Despite the seven feet of snow outside, they would make the best of it.This trip wouldn’t be ruined by her own fears – of that much she was sure....—  ...
Tuesday | 7:30 AM | Jake

.
Jake Peralta woke up to frantic pounding at his door.How did he know it was frantic? Great question. Probably from the frantic-sounding voice that accompanied it.“Peralta!”  Bang bang bang.  “Peralta, wake up!”His eyes blinked, bleary in the early-morning light. For whatever reason, his first thought was Captain Holt? What are you doing here? But sense and reason got the best of him, and before Amy could roll out of bed first, he was up and stumbling toward the door, praying the kids stayed asleep in the next room.The sight that greeted him was not one he’d been expecting.Tim Bradford, with an unshaven face and red-rimmed eyes and hair that looked like it had experienced a hurricane or two. His T-shirt was wrinkled and his jeans were not much better.“Hey, Tim. Good mor-”“Can I come in?” the sergeant interrupted. His voice was tight and the veins in his neck stood out in a mildly concerning way.Shocked, exhausted, and still a little confused, Jake nodded and stepped aside to let Tim barge in and sit in the nearest chair, only to immediately stand up again. Amy threw a robe over her Christmas pajamas and crossed her arms in concern. “What’s wrong? What happened?”The next words out of Tim’s mouth erased all remaining fogginess from Jake’s brain, and rightly so.“Lucy’s gone.”Amy’s gasp was audible. She stumbled backwards like someone had punched her in the chest. “Wh–” she stuttered, “what do you mean?”Tim threw his hands in the air, his jaw tightening, and Jake swore he could see moisture in the stone-faced man’s eyes. “I don’t know. I got up two hours ago, figured she went to get breakfast, but I combed the entire building three times , asked every employee, checked every closet. She left her phone and watch in the room. Not like her at all. No clues, no leads, nothing. The snow’s still drifted up against every door, no signs of anyone exiting the building from any window, and she’s just . . . gone.”“And with the snow so high . . .” Jake trailed off.“The police won’t be able to get here until at least tomorrow,” Amy finished for him. “So that means . . .”Tim nodded, obviously trying to control his breathing. “Today we are the police.”...

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

PART TWO - The Ransom.7:45 AM - Jake.They had to brainstorm every possible option before the kids woke up hungry and ready to go down to breakfast.The three cops sat around the tiny sitting area in their room, Amy with her notebook and a pencil flying across the pages, noting every single angle they could come up with.When he thought back on it, Jake couldn’t remember everything they said. But according to Amy’s notes, the conversation went something like this:–
Jake: So you saw her last night.

Tim: Yeah, we went to bed together at nine-forty-five and I fell asleep right away.

Amy: And what time did you get up?

Tim: At five-thirty, sharp.

Amy: So she went missing sometime between 2145 and 0530. Does she always get up before you?

Tim: Sometimes, but if she does she hangs around really close. Old habits and trauma responses.

Jake: Trauma responses?

Tim: She had a . . . an incident with a captor about seven years ago when she was just a rookie. I was her T.O. It was– Let’s just say she has some leftover claustrophobia and fear of being too far away from other people.

Jake: Got it. Any reason she might have for hiding or needing some time alone?

Tim: No. That’s unlikely.

Amy: Any chance the snow and being shut in and stranded would trigger that claustrophobia?

Tim: Maybe. But if it did, she would just come find me.

Jake: That’s sweet.

Tim: Peralta, if you don’t shut it–

[...]

Amy: So we’ve ruled out this being her own doing.

Tim: For now, yes.

Jake: And you never saw any of her enemies from her time undercover?

Tim: No, we both looked at the guest list for that reason, and have been watching at meal times.

Jake: No one she might have angered . . . Someone she put away years ago?

Tim: Not that we know of.

Amy: So it’s still a possibility.

Jake: Everything’s still a possibility.

Tim: I can’t rule anything out for sure.

Jake: We have to consider a connection to the so-called thief from yesterday.

Amy: But she didn’t even see the guy or anything. Why would they target her?

Jake: Maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was an easy way to cause a distraction.

Tim: . . . A distraction from what?
–All Jake remembered after that was a split-second silent and knowing look between himself and Amy, saying you stay with the kids; I’ll be right back , and a mad dash out the door with Tim, but not before grabbing a heavy decorative candlestick for protection.Together they all but vaulted down a flight of stairs, down the hallway, around the corner, and toward the Bradfords’ room. Tim had to restrain himself from kicking the door in, and instead slid the key card at the speed of light. They both stood close to the walls, and Jake watched almost without blinking as Tim – slowly and with all the trained precision in the world – pushed the door open. With a flick of his finger, Jake motioned for Tim to enter first, which he did, creeping around the door frame looking for all the world like a character from an action movie, going in to beat up the mafia single handedly.Jake checked the main bedroom, wielding the bronze candlestick like his life depended on it. “Clear,” he told Tim. Next, the closet. Nothing.“Clear,” Tim replied from the kitchenette area.The rest of the room was clear. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing missing. Except, of course . . .“Her gun’s gone,” Tim announced from the bathroom.The safe.Of course.Jake went to see, and sure enough. The holster sat right there, empty.“Did she take it with her?” he asked.Tim shook his head, his face slowly losing all color. “I checked when I got up. It was still here. She– someone came back for it.”Jake swallowed, hard. Something wasn’t adding up.“Anything else missing from there?”Tim nodded. “Cash, keys, all gone.”They were quiet for a long, long minute. “So . . .” Jake offered. “If they weren’t armed before–”“They sure are now,” Tim finished. ...7:55 AM - Jake
.
“Let’s go back to the facts.”They didn’t have any time to waste. Tim was practically vibrating out of his skin, anxious to the point of punching a wall, and they needed to do something, anything, and fast.Amy had given the kids some breakfast in their room, and let them play on their tablets for the time being so the adults could meet out in the hallway, huddled in a circle, speaking in hushed voices. Everything was eerily quiet; too quiet for comfort.“We know she hasn’t left the building,” Amy continued. “Unless there’s an underground exit,” Jake argued.“We know there was a complaint of something stolen from a room, which means there might be someone here with malicious intent. And somehow, your safe was stolen from, which only Lucy knows the combination to–”“And the lodge staff,” Jake added. “There’s always a master code.”Tim’s eyebrows drew together in deep thought. “What about that guy who complained about the stolen stuff? Maybe he saw something that could help.”Jake and Amy exchanged a glance. She was thinking the same thing.“It’s not great,” Tim admitted, “but it’s the only lead we have.”...8:05 AM - Jake.“Yeah, I think I wrote his name down here somewhere . . .” Vesa dug through the sticky notes on her desk, until she happened upon one of them beside the keyboard. “Silas Kearney,” she said slowly. Jake tapped his fingers on the desk.“Can you tell us what room he’s in?” Tim asked, another vein in his neck appearing suddenly.Vesa smiled, but her eyes looked dead inside. “Sorry, I can’t. Lodge policy.”If Jake hadn’t known better, he would have thought Tim’s head would physically detach from his body and a jet of hot water would spray upward like a fire hose. The man looked about ready to explode and take the whole lodge down with him. “Listen,” the sergeant ground out from behind a clenched jaw, “my wife is missing, in a possible hostage situation, she’s six months pregnant, the nearest police are twenty-five minutes away on a good day, but now there’s seven feet of wet snow that’s not getting cleared anytime soon, I know you’ve been stranded here for two days already, and there’s a possible thief on the loose who is probably now armed and dangerous. And you want to talk to me about some kind of lodge policy ?”Jake felt a chill run down his spine. He, for one, wouldn’t want to get on this guy’s bad side. One wrong move, and he was pretty sure this man would single handedly tear this entire lodge apart from top to bottom, looking for Lucy. And frankly, if Jake were in Tim’s shoes, he would do the same for Amy. No questions asked.Vesa went completely pale, and her mouth fell halfway open. “I’m–”“Please just – give us the room number,” Jake said quickly. She nodded, eyes as wide as saucers, and almost without looking at the sticky note, wrote down, 23. Jake grabbed the paper in one fell swoop, thanked the shaking receptionist, and basically shoved Tim toward the staircase....When Silas Kearney’s wife opened the door, Jake almost felt bad for questioning her.She was a small, frail looking woman, probably in her early seventies, with wispy, shoulder length gray hair and a truly enormous knit shawl over her shoulders. She couldn’t possibly have been more than five feet tall. And when two tall, seasoned police officers pounded on her door like the building was burning down, Jake immediately felt guilty. She looked like a deer in the headlights. All the color in her face was gone, and he wondered if she would be able to stay upright at all.“Mrs. Kearney,” he said, trying to lower the volume of his voice to appear less intimidating. “We’re looking for your husband.”She swallowed, and her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “Wh- why? Who are you?” she managed, and Jake noted her thick English accent.“We believe he might have witnessed a burglary earlier yesterday, and we need to ask him some questions.” Tim pulled out his badge, showing it to her at just the right speed so she could see he was a cop but couldn’t read the very obvious “Los Angeles Police” that was displayed on the front.The woman brought a shaking hand to her chest. “Do you know who took my bracelet?”Jake shook his head. “No, ma’am. But we’re trying to find them. We think your husband can help us.”“I don’t think so,” she said. “He was surprised as me when it disappeared. Ran down to the desk straight away. We didn’t see anyone – I would remember.”“Still,” Tim prodded. “We’d like to talk to him. Where is he?”Mrs. Kearney tugged the shawl further around her shoulders. “Haven’t a clue. He left last night and hasn’t come back since.”Jake and Tim exchanged a silent glance, and Jake could clearly see the utter panic in the man’s eyes that he was trying to hide. “And this doesn’t concern you?” Jake asked.Mrs. Kearney shook her head. “He does this quite often, actually. Cruise ships, hotels, the lot. Normally I figure he found the liquor stash and made some friends along the way.” She laughed, strikingly cold for the situation at hand. “Even made me check us in and bring all our luggage to the room so he could go explore the grounds and ogle at the architecture, or something. The man is allergic to relaxation and quality time with his wife.”Jake nodded sympathetically, thanking the woman for her time, and the men turned to leave.“Oh, boys,” Mrs. Kearney called after them. And what she said next made every single alarm bell go off in his mind.“I don’t know who Kearney is,” she said. “I think you misheard the receptionist. It’s Sanford Kain. I’m Marcia. Just so you don’t go on a wild goose chase again.”...8:20 AM - Jake.“I’d call this reasonably suspicious,” Amy sighed. “Disappearing around the same time as Lucy . . . We can’t just write that off as a coincidence.”“She did say he has a history of disappearing,” Jake called from the corner of their room. He had Bree sitting in his lap reading a book, with Mac zooming his Hot Wheels along the carpet as the adults talked. The clock read 8:23AM. Almost exactly an hour since Tim pounded on their door that morning. Time was creeping along like a slug in cement, and truthfully Jake was glad. The slower this day went, the more time there was to find Lucy and unravel this mystery.“Usually this would be the time I’d call in reinforcements,” Tim said, slouched over on a chair with his head in his hands.“We could still try calling 911,” Amy offered. “But I don’t think it would do any good.”Tim shook his head. “Unless they have a chopper . . . But then they’d just scare the guests, and we need this to be safe.”“A chopper couldn’t land in these mountains anyway,” Jake added. There wasn’t a reasonably flat area for miles.“We need to search every corner of this building. Every guest room, every closet, behind every wall.” Amy leaned in, lowering her voice. “Are you still packing?”Tim nodded. Patted his side.With a decisive nod, Amy said, “Good. Me too. Which means Jake–”“I’ll stay with the kids,” he called. “And work the case from here.” At that second, he remembered something. “Wait!” he exclaimed, dumped his daughter unceremoniously onto the bed, and made a beeline for the closet. He rummaged through his suitcase, yanking everything out, until . . . “I was saving these for later, call them a late Christmas present for the kids, but I think the situation calls for them.” He broke open the packaging on a set of four cheap-feeling plastic walkie talkies and handed one each to Amy and Tim.Amy’s eyes lit up immediately. “Jake, you’re amazing. ” He waved his hand dismissively. But he gave his wife a quick kiss for luck, awkwardly patted Tim on the shoulder, and watched as they dashed out the door like two knights in shining armor, saving the . . . very independent, capable pregnant woman from a very unfortunate series of circumstances which she probably had under control anyway. Or the damsel in distress. Whichever one Lucy preferred.Either way, the sinking pit in Jake’s stomach was very real, and he just hoped the situation wasn’t as dire as they were all imagining....—...8:40 AM - Tim.This vacation sucked.It was the only thought consistently repeating through Tim’s mind as he knocked on doors, searched empty rooms, and dragged poor Vesa around with her master key to open closets and restricted areas. (“I’m literally not allowed to give it to you, cop or not,” she had insisted, to which he responded by taking her by the elbow and pointing wordlessly at the nearest locked door.)All things considered, Terra Bella Mountain Lodge was fairly small for the area. The lodge boasted thirty rooms: ten on each floor. The ground floor was void of any guest rooms, which made the whole building four stories tall. Instead of guest rooms on the right side, the ground floor contained those absolutely massive vaulted ceilings, as well as the kitchen, dining hall, lobby, lounge area, and recreation room. Down the hall where the guest rooms would be, around the corner from the front desk and under the staircase were all the maintenance, housekeeping, and storage supply rooms.It really wasn’t that big, compared to other buildings Tim had had to search before.But today, it might as well have been the Empire State Building, for how impossible it seemed.Thirty rooms upstairs.At least fifteen downstairs.Plus how many closets and hidden doors and nooks and crannies?He had sent Amy into the main lobby area again to sweep from the kitchen to the staircase in the middle. Vesa swiped her keycard again. The room labeled “Electrical” swung open and Tim barged in, silently and with his gun and flashlight combo extended out in front of him. Nothing but a wall of breaker boxes. 
Where’s Nolan when you need him?
Any discrepancies in the building, any support beam that was off-kilter, John Nolan would know. There was probably a hidden door behind these boxes that Tim would have no idea how to find. He approached carefully, tapping on the wall around the boxes, listening for any discrepancy or change in pitch.Still, nothing.He opened the boxes one by one. Just a bunch of switches that looked fairly legit.“We should really call the cops,” Vesa said from the doorway. He could tell she was making a valiant effort to appear cool and collected. “This is, like, level one police business.”“They’re not getting here anytime soon.” Tim explained. “If we can get this figured out today, then we can report everything to the police tomorrow when the snow gets cleared and no one will have gotten hurt. And make sure you don’t say anything to the guests. No telling what a criminal could do with mass panic on their side. I’ve seen it get real ugly before.”Moving on.Cleaning supplies.Laundry.Maintenance.
Nothing.
Tim felt every ounce of anger and desperation and raw, unbridled panic well up in the base of his throat like bile. Undercover operations were one thing.This was straight out of a nightmare.He grabbed the radio from his pocket. It felt plastic and fake, but it was strangely comforting. “Bradford to Santiago. Anything?”Silence. “Sorry, Tim,” Amy’s voice crackled over the speaker. “Nothing over here.” Just then, like magic, the moment she stopped talking, his phone rang. It startled him to the point of almost dropping his radio, but he caught himself quickly and checked the number.Unknown.
Interesting.
He motioned for Vesa to wait for him at the end of the hallway, and he answered the call.“Hello?”
“Tim? Oh thank god, you’re there.”
And immediately, it felt like a million pounds had been lifted off his shoulders. “Lucy?” Tim nearly cried, clutching the phone like it would melt away. “I– How . . . Where are you?” “I don’t know,” she said, her voice shaking. She was whispering. That wasn’t good. It sounded like she’d just been crying, and everything was muffled. “They . . . I tried to keep track of the direction but I think they tricked me. Somewhere dark and really cold. I can hear . . . water, I think. There’s two guys guarding the door all the time, and one that keeps coming in and out. I took his phone.” “Are you hurt?”
“No, no, I’m fine. Just a little bruised. They’re sloppy. Not very smart. Didn’t even tie my hands. And Tim . . .”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. She was terrified. “I know, babe. I know–” Tim was already booking it to the other end of the hall, just a level below flat-out sprinting. He saw Amy across the lobby and waved frantically. 
“Tim, listen, I–”
And with that, the phone beeped and the call ended.He wanted to throw it across the room. Wanted to personally fistfight whoever was responsible for this, then lock them up for life. Just wanted to . . . to have his wife and children back in his arms, close and safe again. That’s all. He’d never ask for anything more....9:30 AM - Tim.Tim could feel the minutes slipping away like sand between his fingers.The lodge continued life as normal. Breakfast was served, the morning news report played on the TV in the lobby, and there was a public service announcement to the guests regarding the progress of the snowplows that were currently working around the clock to clear everything out before the end of the day.But Tim didn’t care. He kept spinning that conversation with Lucy around in his head like a puzzle.  Water, she had said. Two guys guarding the door . . . That had to mean something. She would have told him right away if she had any indication that they’d left the building. From the sound of things, she was still within these four walls.
Water.
He stood huddled with Jake and Amy in the corner of the recreation room, the kids playing happily with the toys. Mac kept glancing back at the adults, and Tim wondered how much he was picking up on . . . how dire this situation was becoming. Kids were more observant than he usually gave them credit for. He hoped it wasn’t affecting the boy too deeply.“We’ve looked everywhere,” Amy insisted. “Unless the staff aren’t telling us everything.”Jake sighed. “We have to keep that as a possibility. We don’t know them.”Tim raised an eyebrow. “With that logic, I don’t know you. ”But he raised his hands in silent surrender when they both fixed him with the exact same stare, both saying, seriously?? “She heard water,” Jake muttered. “Does this building run on a well?”Tim hadn’t considered that. “It is pretty remote,” he added. “I doubt they’d run city water up here.”“Do wells exist in the mountains?” Amy asked.Okay, so none of them knew anything about country living, mountains, or water delivery systems. Fantastic.“She also said it was dark and cold,” Tim recalled. “She gets cold easily though, so that could mean anywhere in here.”Jake rubbed his forehead. “Sounds like a basement to me.”“The employees never said there is a basement,” Amy reminded him.“Yeah, but–” Jake argued. “Have we considered the fact that the employees might not . . .” He trailed off.“What?” Tim’s muscles tightened, and he stared Jake down, daring him to continue. “They’re not what, Peralta?”Jake visibly faltered. His eyes were determined and honest, but he seemed to shrink into the wall at the same time. “I’m not saying they’re in on it, but they haven’t exactly been helpful. And they don’t really . . . they’re not really taking this seriously. And the receptionist gave me the wrong name of that guy Kain.”Tim’s eyes flicked over to the front desk, through the tall doorway, where Vesa Wescott sat, hair up in a disheveled bun, eyes glued to her phone. “Even the kitchen staff,” Amy added. “The chef – Hugh – I asked him this morning if he saw anything suspicious, and he gave me the most vague answer ever.”“So you’re saying they’re all suspects,” Tim said, his jaw clenching tighter by the second.Jake shook his head. “Not at all. But some high-key bribery might be going on here.”And again, right on cue, Tim’s phone rang.And again, the number showed as unknown. Jake motioned for Tim to answer it.He thought maybe his amazing wife had worked her magic and stolen another phone . . . But when he picked up and put it on speaker, it was most certainly not Lucy. “Sergeant Bradford,” the man’s voice said on the other end. “Listen carefully, and do not speak or your wife dies.” With all the speed of a trained professional, Amy whipped a small notebook out of her pocket and began scribbling everything the man said.A cold block of ice began to form in the very depths of Tim’s stomach. 
“You seem like a good man, Tim. So I know you’ll do the right thing. There’s an armored car parked outside that was doing its pickup when the snow trapped it here. The driver is staying in room ten. Collect all the cash and bring it to the pantry behind the main kitchen. Then get on the phone with your supervisor in Los Angeles. There’s a man in the LA county jail right now by the name of Darren D’Angelo. Arrange for his release. If both of these things are done by seven o’clock tonight, we’ll release your wife and leave the guests and employees alone. If not . . . Well, you better start planning a couple dozen funerals. We'll see you in the main kitchen. Only you. Don't bring those cop friends of yours.

“Oh, and Tim. If you breathe a word of this to any of the lodge employees, I will know. And you’ll never see your wife or baby again.”
The phone beeped, the line went silent, and Tim felt completely frozen.The room started to spin around him. He could see Jake and Amy’s mouths moving, but he couldn’t have heard them if he’d tried.Memories flashed like lightning in his mind.Hot sand, rocks, sagebrush. A bumpy helicopter ride, time running out. A glinting silver ring . . . Raw, hot, red skin. The longest twenty seconds of his life.It was happening again.It was happening, and it was all his fault.
Tim.

. . . “Tim?”
“Bradford?”
Snap out of it, Sergeant.
The world suddenly came back into focus. He could feel Amy’s hand on his elbow and Jake’s concerned gaze. “Are you okay?” she asked, and he couldn’t do anything except nod, his lips pursed tightly together. His eyes felt strangely hot.“Okay,” Jake said. “ Now it’s . . . very real.”Again, Tim nodded. “What do we do?”He couldn’t think.He wasn’t a detective. His job consisted of – Neutralize the threat. Sign paperwork. Kick ass. Chase bad guys. Inspire confidence.  He wasn’t a detective.He couldn’t think.Usually, seemingly-impossible situations gave him an unexplainable sense of clarity, but it eluded him now. All he could picture was Lucy’s long, tangled hair, a hot metal barrel, and the feeling of raw panic. And now . . . the addition of two tiny, innocent lives depending on her for their very survival. Just the thought of them made Tim want to tear this entire building down, brick by brick, log by log, until he found his family.Nothing else mattered.“Well,” Jake was saying. “First, we need a private place to talk.”...

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

7:35 AM - Lucy

.

Lucy was absolutely freezing.

Three hours on a cold cement floor with nothing but her long pajamas and robe would do that. Thankfully, she’d had the foresight to slip on a pair of socks and slippers before leaving the room. They were her saving grace. The room was damp and dark, although she saw bits of morning sunlight peeking through what she could only assume were floorboards above her head.

So far, she’d kept her breathing steady and her nerves under control.

Panicking would do her no good. It was better to keep a clear head.

By her best guess, she was in what was originally meant as a severe weather shelter for the lodge. The ceilings were probably seven feet high, and the room was not all that small – if she had to guess, she would say upwards of 300 square feet. It could easily fit a few families in case of emergency. Along the wall to her right were a few shelves, filled with flashlights, random tools, and boxes that looked like they’d been forgotten here decades ago.

She’d been able to lightly doze off about an hour ago, which was risky, she knew. But these guys were clearly inexperienced and had no clue what they were doing. They were hell-bent on getting their reward, and wouldn’t hurt her before that.

Except now . . . she wasn’t sure that was

all

they were planning.

It was time to make a phone call.

So she begged and pleaded to be allowed to use the restroom around eight o’clock . . . maybe nine. She guessed based on the trace amounts of light coming in from the ceiling and the men’s conversations about breakfast. Her bladder was ready to burst and she asked if they really wanted to clean up her mess, and that this is what they got for kidnapping a pregnant woman.

Eventually, after her many descriptions of a urine-covered floor that would stink up the vents and probably alert the employees to something out of the ordinary, the men relented. She had no idea if what she’d said was true, but it seemed to strike a chord. So they blindfolded her, dragged her at least two hundred feet down a cold hallway, practically threw her into a closet-sized room with a single toilet and a rusty sink, and left her alone.

Oh, if only they had known they were dealing with a trained, seasoned undercover cop.

She flipped the second switch next to the light, and the ventilation fan came on at full speed. It was an older type – rattling and screeching like a banshee and masking any extra noise.

The room was tiny enough that getting up from the toilet proved a struggle, but she washed her hands as quietly as possible, carefully closed the toilet lid, and sat back down, without flushing quite yet. She reached down into the side of the sturdy, soft bralette she had worn to sleep and produced the phone she’d stolen from one of the brute’s pockets not five minutes prior. She thanked any higher power out there that the owner of this phone was somewhere in his mid-sixties. The passcode was “1234.”

Hearing Tim’s voice was like easing into a warm bathtub. Suddenly she could breathe again.

He sounded panicked, and she knew he was pretending to hold it together for her sake. She knew the voice all too well.

She tried to be as descriptive as possible, describing the mutter of running water she could hear from the big room, but it was hard when her nerves were on high-alert. She wasn’t sure how much help the description would actually be.

“Are you hurt?”

The question was laced with barely-contained, raw, gut wrenching fear.

“No, no, I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just a little bruised. They’re sloppy. Not very smart. Didn’t even tie my hands. And Tim . . .”

And what? He already knew almost everything she was going to say. What more could she add? That she was terrified. That she was trying to keep it together for her babies’ sake. That her captors were plotting something else, alongside whatever they were using her for. That she was at half strength, but she would still do her absolute best to get out of here. That she was sorry she ever dragged him here in the first place.

“I know, babe. I know.”

He sounded like he was flat-out sprinting. She heard a woman’s voice and hoped beyond hope that it was Amy. She seemed capable and brilliant. Tim would be wise to enlist Jake and Amy’s help.
Then she remembered. The man. Samuel, or something? The men had been muttering about him in front of her door, and she had inched her way forward, every sense on high alert. Three of the cops, they had said. . . . Wild goose chase. Can’t believe– 
He had to know. It wasn’t much, but at least it was

something.

“Tim, listen, I–”

At that moment, the men began furiously pounding on the bathroom door and yanking at the handle. “Time’s up, lady!”

Shit.

She frantically hung up the call, stuffed the phone back into her bra, and flushed the toilet.

Taking just one moment to gather herself, she drank a handful of water from the tap, smoothed out her robe, and unlocked the door, her blindfold obediently back in place.

As the men practically dragged her back to the big room, she ran through hundreds of iterations of a plan in her mind. She was pregnant, not helpless.

What would Harper or Lopez do?

She sat in the dark, staring up at the slivers of golden sunlight, running even more scenarios. She couldn’t beat these guys physically. Maybe she could have seven months ago, but having the equivalent of a pumpkin filled with rocks growing out of her midsection certainly put a damper on things.

It was too risky to try anything with the phone that was still tucked deep into her bra, warm and close up against her skin. The one man came in and out as he pleased, sometimes asking her weirdly vague questions, sometimes simply poking his head in as if she was at risk of evaporating. If he caught her with a phone, who knew what would happen? She couldn’t risk it, not just yet.

One thing was sure: she refused to be helpless anymore. Hearing Tim’s familiar, confident, worried, strong voice had breathed new life into her . . . and possibly given her an idea.

.

.

.

—

.

.

10:15 AM - Tim

.

Tim always admired detectives.

And especially this couple, who had obviously worked so well together for

years,

bouncing ideas back and forth, coming at the problem from every angle imaginable, going through mental lists of pros and cons and various options. They were like tennis players, and the ball was this impossible problem they had to solve.

They had decided that neither of their rooms were safe, as there was a good chance they were bugged. So, of course, they chose the next best place.

How

he and Jake had managed to dig an actual tunnel/canyon from the side door into the Peralta-Santiago minivan in less than twenty minutes, he had no idea. Pure adrenaline and dumb luck, it must be.

However it happened, the setup was quite cozy. The kids chatted and played (loudly) in the cargo area, Amy sat backwards on her knees on the passenger seat, her back leaning up against the dashboard, while Jake and Tim folded themselves into the middle captain chairs. The sunroof was cleared of snow and cracked open for maximum ventilation. Tim had no idea snow could act so well as an insulator, but it was amazingly warm, even with the engine off. (No one really felt like dying of carbon monoxide poisoning at the moment.) And the many, many crumbs on this seat only bothered him a little bit.

They had just under nine hours now.

You can’t count the minutes,

Amy had wisely reminded him.

Take one step at a time or you’ll go insane.

“Lucy said her captors aren’t very smart,” Tim recalled. “That has to work in our favor.”

Jake smirked. “Oh, it will. Sloppy and stupid criminals are either unpredictable and dangerous or easily dealt with. I think I know which one these are.”

Amy nodded in agreement. “They didn’t even bother kidnapping anyone else – just Lucy. If they really cared about their ransom, they’d grab at least two more guests.”

“Maybe they did,” Tim said, “and they were just ordered to keep quiet like we were.”

“Doubtful,” Amy argued. “Civilians tend to overreact to these kinds of things. They would get a ransom call and immediately call the police, snow or not. We’d know.”

“Plus, they only talked about Lucy,” Jake added. “If they’re as dumb as she says they are, they would have bragged about having other prisoners.”

“They didn’t really think this whole thing through, did they?” Amy said with a smile. Not a “

taking this situation lightly”

smile, but saying,

“We know better than these goons. We’re the experienced ones here. Whatever happens, we’ll be at least five steps ahead of them.”

.

.

.

—

.

.

10:40 AM - Jake

.

Bree refused to let go of Amy.

Jake took her little hands and gently but forcefully attempted to pry her away . . . And then came the shrieking.

For such an agreeable, happy-go-lucky daddy’s girl, this was uncharted behavior. Mac had been the difficult one. Coming from his cheerful daughter, this was certifiably weird.

“It’s probably just the stress and the snowstorm and Tim’s whole macho vibe,” Jake assured his wife as their howling toddler inflicted a death grip on her mother’s neck, causing Amy’s face to turn a deep maroon shade.

Amy pressed her lips into a thin line and Jake could see the fire directed at him, burning behind her eyes. But they didn’t have time to console the girl any other way – they would just have to make this work. Leaving his (very beautiful, very capable, amazing, brilliant, one-in-a-million –

Just go already, Jake!

) wife in the mostly soundproof minivan with a screaming toddler and an accident-prone, wannabe-acrobat child, Jake sprinted back through the hand-made snow canyon toward the lodge, hot on Tim’s heels.

This whole situation wasn’t adding up. He was missing

something.

The misnamed man who clearly knew there was a thief on the loose, conveniently delivered a false name to the receptionist in front of a group of four cops and ex-cops, sent said cops on a wild goose chase from room to room, and had a conveniently unaware wife who didn’t mind telling Jake her husband’s

real

name. Unless that was a fake too. In which case, they had little to no way of finding this guy.

And second, the sloppy criminals. Who calls a number without knowing if it’s

really

the husband of the woman they kidnapped? If it had been an unsuspecting citizen who picked up the phone, they would have either dismissed it as a prank or immediately called the local police, in which case the criminals’ whole operation would be as good as compromised.

There was something really off. But he couldn’t put his finger on it.

To Colorado’s credit and the seemingly unbreakable electricity and cell infrastructure, Jake’s phone still worked. He watched as Tim hurtled ahead toward the second-floor rooms, hell-bent on questioning that armored car driver. But instead of following him, Jake ducked into a quiet, shadowy corner, away from prying ears and screaming kids, and pulled out his phone.

It answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey gu-u-u-rl!”

“Gina!” Jake exclaimed, then did a double take. “Wait, what are you doing at the precinct? Where’s Becky?”

“In a meeting with the captain,” Gina explained. A little girl’s high-pitched voice yelled something Jake couldn’t quite decode, to which Gina answered, “Iggy, go bother Uncle Charles for a while and leave me alone. No– no, I mean it, girl. I don’t want to see your face for the next ten minutes.

Enigma–

”

A pause.

Some shuffling in the background.

Muffled voices.

Then finally, “So, what’s cracking?” Gina continued nonchalantly.

“Gina,” Jake pressed, suddenly fearing for the safety of the Nine-Nine with his (adorable, insane) honorary niece on the loose. “What are you doing answering the phone? No wait,” he backtracked. “No time. Can you just send me through to Terry?”

“Hmm,” Gina sighed. “Not even a

‘Hey old friend?’

Not even a

‘How are the kids–’”

“Gina!” Jake felt about ready to jump out of his own skin. “I would

love

to catch up later. Let’s get a drink sometime. This is an emergency, there is a pregnant woman who’s been kidnapped, and–”

“Woah, dude – weren’t you going on a relaxing family vacation or something?”

“Gina,

I swear to god–”

“Fine, fine.” And without another word, the line beeped, and Jake breathed a long-suffering sigh.

After what felt like a quarter of an eternity, another familiar voice picked up.

“Captain Jeffords.”

“Hey Terry-y,” Jake said, dragging out the last letter. “It’s your favorite Jake. Listen, I have to ask a favor.”

.

.

.

—

.

.

10:45 AM - Lucy

.

Her plan was working.

She heard them make the phone call half an hour after they brought her back from the bathroom, and although it sounded worlds harsher than she’d hoped, it was okay.

She would be okay, and Tim would work the case.

After the phone call, she got to work. She had to be smart. Strategic. Hit them where and when they weren’t expecting it. They assumed she was just another weak, scared pregnant woman? Well,

this

pregnant woman had seven years of high-stakes policing under her belt, martial arts training, real-world hand-to-hand combat experience, as well as an unending supply of tricks up her sleeve for getting out of situations just like this.

She just had to make sure her husband was alerted to the severity of the problem first.

And the phone call did just that.

Then she was free to run.

Between constant checks from the man in charge (she thought maybe his name was Gunnar) and avoiding noise, it was hard to look through the boxes at all. But inch by inch, minute by minute, after what felt like

hours

, she had managed to scrounge up a couple good-sized lengths of frayed paracord, a half-empty, century-old can of Raid, a bottle of Drano, a bandana, a roll of duct tape, half of a rusty wrought-iron curtain rod with one flat, weapon-looking end, and enough spiders to send any normal person into a blind panic.

But Lucy’s survival instincts were stronger than a few spiders.

The rope and bandana she had tucked into her deep robe pockets. She carefully leaned the pipe up against the opposite side of a support beam, so it wouldn’t be immediately visible from the door. Everything else she stuffed back into one of the boxes she’d emptied and set it on the floor.

Now, finally, it was go-time.

She knocked timidly on the door.

“Hello?” she called innocently. “Can I have some water?”

“Again?” came the reply as usual.

“It’s the baby,” she argued, unwilling to give her captors any sort of information regarding the

amount

of babies she carried. Let them think she was about to burst. Keep them on edge. “I get real thirsty.”

She could hear audible grumbling as one of the guards hauled himself to his feet, stepped out into the hall, then the door creaked three inches open, just enough for her to grab the half-empty water bottle from the guard’s hands. Immediately, the door shut and

clicked

locked from the other side.

“Thanks

so

much,” she muttered sardonically to herself, making a childish face at the door.

But it was okay – This would work.

She had counted about nine minutes since Gunnar’s last check-in. One more minute.

Perfect.

Quickly, and with the precision of a trained professional, she pulled the bandana from her pocket, drenched it in water, wrung it out to be mostly damp, and tied it tightly around her nose and mouth.

Next, she shoved the can of Raid in one pocket, the roll of duct tape in the other, held the bottle of Drano in her left hand and the iron pipe in her right.

She heard footsteps.

Five . . . four . . .

Three.

Two.

One.

Right on cue, Gunnar’s greasy head poked into the room, and Lucy flew into action.

First, the perfectly-aimed spray of Drano hit the man in the back of the neck, splashing onto his cheeks and the corner of his mouth, causing him to startle and begin gagging and coughing and yelling just enough for Lucy to land a heavy

wham

of the iron pipe directly into the side of his head, crushing it into the wall.

He crumpled like a wet towel.

And his body acted as a barrier so the door couldn’t close and lock again.

Next, she dropped the bottle of Drano, yanked the can of Raid out of her pocket, took a deep, deep breath of fresh air from behind her makeshift mask and held it, and blindly sprayed the Raid every possible direction into the hallway.

Immediately, gags and coughs and dry heaving filled her ears, and she flung the door open the rest of the way, still armed with the pipe.

One man lunged blindly toward her, but she was prepared.

The pipe soared in an arc around her body, making a horrific

clunk

sound as it came in contact with his skull, and he stumbled, his arms grabbing for anything. She jumped backwards as fast as she was physically able. When there was nothing in range, he tripped over Gunnar and landed with a

thud

on the floor in front of Lucy.

The third man was bent over in the corner, retching uncontrollably, his eyes streaming with tears.

When he saw her coming toward him, masked like a bandit, wielding a weapon in each hand, massively pregnant and dressed in a fuzzy orange robe, the expression of utter defeat and acceptance on his face almost,

almost

made her laugh. He didn’t even attempt to reach for the gun strapped to his hip.

Within a surprisingly quick amount of time, she managed to get all three men tied firmly up with paracord and duct tape, but not before she checked to make sure Gunnar was actually still breathing. She may have been ruthless today, but she wasn’t totally heartless. A nasty lump was already forming on his temple, but all things considered, he’d be fine.

She took her small pistol back from where Gunnar had it hanging on his jeans, strapped it to the soft belt of her robe, double knotted said belt for security’s sake, slung the iron pipe over her shoulder, and wished the three men a nice day. The still-conscious one glared at her, still pale with red-rimmed eyes.

“I'll send an ambulance,” she assured them before heading down the hallway to find her husband.

.

.

.

—

.

.

11:00 AM - Amy

.

Amy was confused.

Thankfully, she’d brought her notepad and her backup notepad to the minivan when the guys dragged everyone here to talk (it was inconvenient, but she had to admit it was pretty smart, and very cozy and warm), so she could go through her options and make some calls.

Bree had finally released her death grip on Amy’s neck, and decided her brother’s Playmobil pieces were more interesting.

So Amy had a blessed moment to think. To strap on that old detective hat of hers and plow through a case, shifting and arranging the pieces until they made some sort of sense.

This should have started making sense.

But something about the situation confused her.

Tim was hellbent on strong-arming his way through Lucy’s captors and bringing his wife to safety. That made sense.

Lucy was being used as ransom, that checked out too.

But why target the Bradfords in the first place?

What power did Tim have that made these people feel the need to make it personal with him?

Was it his connection to the Los Angeles county jail? Probably. But a person couldn’t just call a jail, no matter how much influence they had in the police department, and ask for someone’s release. That was insane. As stupid as these captors were, they

had

to know that.

The armored car driver was a bit more plausible. There were probably hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of dollars in that truck. She remembered watching the truck arrive, just as the snow reached a foot and a half. It plowed through, just barely making it into the parking lot. She had thought there was no way it was going to try to make it back down the winding mountain road that night, and that the driver would probably ask for a room and food for the night. Little did he know, the snow would keep coming and would trap him here for at least two days.

So the criminals saw their chance and took it.

And since the driver himself didn’t come with anything valuable to use for ransom like a pregnant wife, they probably just snatched someone random and demanded the money regardless of her relation to the armored car driver.

It was a dumb move, but a believable one. She’d seen dumber criminals get away with worse.

Theoretically it was an easy fix for three experienced law enforcers working together. Trick the captors into thinking the money would be delivered. Arrange for a trade: the money for Lucy. Get Lucy to safety before they realize they’re overpowered. Send Jake and Tim and any other willing guests in, guns figuratively blazing, and kidnap the kidnappers until the cops show up the next day.

But there was something else. Something Amy couldn’t

quite

reconcile, that gave her pause.

The disappearance of Silas Kearney. Or rather, Sanford Kain.

It was odd.

Not

oh gosh we have to abort this mission and we’re all going to die

odd, but just something that made Amy’s seasoned detective side of her brain do a double take.

It was something to consider.

.

.

.

—

.

.

11:10 AM - Tim

.

“There’s a

what?”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. A violently hungover armored car driver was

not

on his bingo card for the day.

. . . Then again, none of this was.

The driver, who had groggily introduced himself as Lance Perry, sat on the edge of his bed, head in his meaty hands, looking for all the world like he was about to hurl.

“Seriously?”

“Come on, man,” Lance groaned. “Give me a break. Explain it one more time.”

Pretty much every cell in Tim’s body was on the verge of implosion. If this idiot didn’t get his shit together this

instant–

“Your truck and all the money in it,” Tim scanned the room as he talked. “Is being asked for ransom, in exchange for my

wife and children.”

While still talking, he grabbed one of the plastic cups from the now-empty minibar, filled it with water as cold as the tap would go, and let the water fly, straight onto Lance’s hair, face, and hands that still cupped his forehead.

In one motion, the short but stout man jumped up and let out a furious

roar

that could have shattered any weaker person, but Tim remained unfazed. He grabbed Lance by both arms in a vice grip, resisting his violent attempts to break free, and smacked him firmly upside the head.

“Pull yourself

together!

People’s lives are on the line here.”

The words came out with just the right amount of hellfire that Lance stilled for a moment, met Tim’s furious gaze with a steely, stubborn glare, then promptly turned away and vomited all over the bed.

.

.

The pure unbelieving disgust in Jake’s face when Tim told him about the truck driver’s rude awakening was amusing enough that it almost,

almost

made up for the headache of the whole situation.

They were huddled in the back of a storage closet, Tim leaning up against the unsteady shelves, Jake perched on an overturned mop bucket.

Lance, who was currently nursing a cup of black coffee and a cracker, sat handcuffed to an exposed support beam with a bucket placed strategically at his feet. He looked about ready to crawl into a hole in the ground and never return.

“How did the phone call go?” Tim asked, barely above a whisper.

“Perfect,” Jake said, also keeping his voice to a minimum. “Terry’s already in touch with the LAPD, and they’re assigning your detective friends to look into that guy. For now, we’ll get a fake certificate of release for the ransom.”

Tim nodded shortly. At least one thing was going right.

“And you–” Jake addressed the truck driver. “A change of heart, maybe?”

“You guys are insane,” Lance insisted. “I’m not risking the truck for this.”

“For the last time,

we’re not the criminals here,”

Tim ground out.

Lance didn’t even meet his eyes. “I’m sure that’s what they all say.”

That was it.

That was the last straw.

Tim exploded.

Before he could consciously register what he was doing, he felt himself surge forward, his vision blinking in and out as his brain tried to catch up to his actions.

Next thing he knew, he was yanking Lance Perry upright by his shirt, Tim’s nails gouging his skin through the fabric. His muscles worked almost involuntarily, dragging his free arm backward, winding up and releasing, landing his taut knuckles straight into the man’s fleshy jaw.

Again.

Again.

Again.

His brain felt thick and muddy, and yet crystal clear at the same time, like there was a faster, more furious version of Tim who just inhabited his body, and he was helpless to do anything against him.

In the back of his mind, he heard Jake’s frantic shouts to stop, stop, stop.

But he couldn’t.

With each punch, he saw Lucy’s face, bloody and beaten on a cold cement floor, her lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling, bullet holes through her chest.

She–

won’t–

die–

today.

Suddenly, he was on the ground.

The hardwood floor sent an electric shock through his spine from his tailbone up to his brain as he landed, thrown unceremoniously into the shelves.

He couldn’t breathe.

His chest was caving in.

Jake wrestled him all the way to the ground, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere while Lance groaned, slumped like a ragdoll against the wall.

Tim’s vision swam.

For a split second, he saw a searing white light.

The ground became soft.

Pillowy.

He saw sunshine.

His wife’s tear-filled eyes and beaming expression.

Two blanket-wrapped bundles, each with a mop of dark hair.

Pure, unblemished joy. Like his heart was being ripped straight out of his chest and he was helpless to stop it.

Lucy’s lips were moving.

Aster and Briar

, she was saying.

Tim.

Do you understand?

He was confused.

Tim, we’re okay.

Tim, I need you.

Tim.

Bradford.

.

.

.

Wake up, sergeant.

Suddenly and without warning, he was staring up into a concerned pair of eyes.

But they definitely weren’t Lucy’s.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Jake quipped.

Tim groaned, covering his eyes with a sore, blood-crusted hand.

“What happened?” he managed.

Jake grasped him by the elbow and maneuvered him into a sitting position against the door. They were still in the storage closet, and Lance Perry sat, still handcuffed, against the opposite wall, his head slumped down, chin against his chest. Tim noticed bruising and blood.

Oh.

Oh damn.

“Well,” Jake replied. “About ten minutes ago, you jumped and started pounding the only hope we have for arranging your wife’s peaceful escape . . . to a pulp. So I did my sworn duty and almost broke my arm tackling you to pull you off of him. And now we’re here in this dusty little closet, waiting for you to come back to the land of the living so we can get this case solved, you son of a bitch.” He paused. “Sorry, that last part sounded

way

cooler in my head. I don’t actually think that about you – I think you’re a very reputable guy in an unfortunate circumstance.”

Tim motioned to the armored car driver. “Is he okay?”

“He will be. Mostly just in a bit of shock. It has

really

not been his day.”

“No thanks to me.”

A snort escaped the ex-detective. “I wasn’t going to say it, but . . .”

Tim sighed and dragged a hand down his aching face. “Sorry. About all this.”

“What, letting me relive the glory days?” Jake joked with a hint of a grin.

Tim raised a single eyebrow. “Sure.”

Jake stood up with a long groan and stretched his lower back against his hands. “Oh, I am

not

as young as I used to be.”

He stretched a hand down to pull Tim up. But before he could, at that very second, both their walkie talkies buzzed with static, and Amy’s frantic voice came through.

“Minivan to Eagle One, do you copy?”

Tim looked up, offended. “Why do

you

get to be Eagle One?”

Jake grinned and picked up the little plastic radio. “Eagle One to Minivan, I copy. What’s up?”

A pause.

Then, like music to Tim’s ears, Amy’s announcement.

“I think I solved this thing.”

.

.

.

—

.

.
 
12:00 PM - Tim

.

Jake visibly did a double take. “What do you mean? Like, this

whole

thing?”

“Well . . . almost,”

Amy explained over the radio.

“At least part of it. Just come to home base and I’ll explain everything. Quick.”

Tim met the ex-detective’s eyes, a hundred questions running through his head. The most burning one of all: “What do we do with this guy?”

Jake glanced at Lance, who was still slumped over and drooling onto his own lap. He sighed heavily and seemed to resign himself to his inevitable fate. “I’ll stay and watch him. You go talk to Amy.”

Tim hauled himself to his feet and only felt a little unsteady. He allowed himself a moment to adjust to the ringing in his head, blinked hard a few times, patted his side to make sure his piece was still in place, and grabbed the doorknob.

He hesitated.

Glanced back at Jake.

“Peralta,” he said, and the man turned to face him. “Thanks . . . You’re a good man.”

Before Jake could respond, Tim was already out the door and hauling ass toward the lobby.

His mind should have been racing, attempting to piece together how in the

world

Amy had even partially solved this case with such limited information and next to no concrete evidence of, well . . . anything. But it was completely blank. With each footstep on the solid hardwood, his thoughts were jarred into oblivion. He passed a few housekeepers with their rolling carts. A couple of the kitchen staff chatting with hushed voices in a dark corner. A few random guests wandering the lodge for lack of anything better to do.

The reception desk was empty.

But he didn’t give it a second thought.

And then it happened.

It sent a pure electric shock straight through his entire body. Every last nerve, every hair follicle

exploded

with disbelief.

Because like magic, the moment his hand touched the door to push his way out to the minivan . . . he heard his wife’s voice.

At first he swore it was a hallucination.

“Tim!”

He whirled around, and for a delirious, insane, astronomically long second, he took in the scene in front of him.

There she was, passing the huge stone fireplace, faded orange robe flapping in the wind as she half-ran, half-dragged herself toward him, a bandana tied around her neck like an Old West bandit, some sort of metal pipe across her shoulder, her holster and gun hanging firmly to her belt on her robe, and a ridiculous grin on her face, complete with tear-filled eyes and dirt streaking across her cheeks.

At that moment, he thought for sure that Lucy had never looked more beautiful.

Wasting absolutely no more time, he practically leaped across the rest of the distance to her, watched as the pipe she carried went

clanging

to the ground, locked his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her long black hair . . .

“You’re okay,” he found himself whispering. “I was so . . .”

“I know,” she said, her voice echoing through his own chest, filling him with the familiar warmth of having her close to him and safe again. Finally.

At some point, he pulled her gently away, still holding onto her shoulders and examining every inch of her.

Her right cheek was turning a bright shade of purple, her eyes were red-rimmed, her hands were scuffed and crusted with rust and dirt and a hint of blood. But all things considered, she was okay. She was whole and smiling and she held a protective hand to her pregnant belly.

It suddenly felt like the cage Tim had been trapped in all day melted away, and he could actually think again.

He opened his mouth to ask what, exactly, happened . . . but instead he wrinkled his nose.

“Why do you smell like kerosene?”

Lucy laughed, and it might have been the greatest thing he’d ever heard in his life. “That’s kind of a long story,” she said and patted his cheek affectionately.

He leaned down and kissed her firmly, not caring if the whole lodge was watching.

Then, wrapping one arm tightly around her shoulders, he led her back the way he’d been planning to go, out the side door near the reception desk. “Speaking of stories, you have to tell us everything. We’re trying to solve this whole case – we think it goes deeper than just money. We need to know who took you, what you saw, what you heard, how you–”

“Um, Tim?” she interrupted.

“Hm?” He looked down, and she was biting her lip, looking up at him with those big, horribly irresistible brown eyes of hers.

“You guys, uh, did you . . .” she faltered. “Is the lodge still serving lunch?”

.

.

.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

PART FOUR - The SonTuesday - Lucy.Lucy thought she could never love normal clothes more.Upon the news of her (in her opinion) epic return, Tim gathered the troops and insisted they return to an actual room in the lodge instead of the minivan, now that the stakes were at a reasonable level, instead of being immediately life threatening. Of course, there was still the threat of mass damage and harm to the civilians of the lodge, but they all figured that was a problem best solved after a quick meal and setting up a decent headquarters.Amy and Tim had swept the Peralta-Santiago suite for bugs at least ten times, detaching every lampshade, nearly flipping over every surface. When they were adequately confident that it was clear, Jake and Lucy ran all the way from the minivan to the room, the kids in tow. Tim, being the stoic, caring teddy bear he was, had snuck back into the Bradford’s room and retrieved a change of clothes for Lucy, along with her phone, most of her toiletries, and a few snacks. So now she sat, infinitely comfortable, in her best maternity yoga pants, faded Cornell hoodie, and slipper socks. Amy had snagged three heaping to-go boxes from the lunch buffet that was shockingly undisturbed by recent events and still serving guests. So, the group had a picnic of fried chicken and mashed potatoes with all the fixings. The kids and Jake spread out on the floor of the small central room in front of the desk, Amy balanced her portion on her lap, perched on the rolling desk chair, and Tim and Lucy sat shoulder to shoulder on the little sofa. The most interesting sight that kind of ruined the cozy atmosphere, Lucy thought, was the man in dirty, wrinkled clothes, snoring in a seated position, handcuffed to the built-in shoe rack by the door. That was a story she needed to hear.While they ate, Lucy explained everything that had happened in that basement room. The handful of phone calls she heard, the descriptions of the guys who guarded her, where the room was and how they tricked her into thinking it was deep underground, and finally her epic escape. The adults were mildly horrified at her choice of weapons, but Mac giggled, asked extra questions, and pranced around the room, spraying a pretend can of Raid and swinging a nonexistent bat.“Die, bad guys!” he yelled at the top of his lungs before Jake could adequately catch and shush him. “Die!!” Tim chuckled at the kid’s antics. But one question remained, hanging over the room like a thick fog. 
What was the point?
Lucy was okay. The criminals who took her didn’t have their money, and nothing horrible had happened to the rest of the lodge . . . yet. It felt like a ticking time bomb.Lucy stared out the window, at the blazing, bright blue sky. The sun made the snow glitter and shine like a million stars, and she had to admit it was gorgeous. Mountains lined the horizon as far as she could see, and little puffs of smoke drifted into the air where homes burned wood to stay warm.With a sigh and a grin toward where Jake tackled his son and placed him back in front of his uneaten lunch, Lucy opened her phone and scrolled through the local news. The roads were almost cleared, they said. The town of Estes Park was drivable again, and the crews were now making their way around the various side streets and mountain roads, slowly but surely.There could be cops here by tomorrow.Which means they only had to stall whatever horrible thing was bound to happen for another twenty-four hours . . .
Oh.

Oh my god.
It hit her like a truck.How hadn’t she seen it before?They’d never been serious about the ransom.It was all just a ruse. That’s why they never hurt her. That’s why they were so sloppy. That’s why she never saw the face of the man in charge.Lucy gasped audibly, and Tim whipped his head around to look at her, concern evident on his face. She met his eyes, then looked across the room at Amy, who was also obviously interested in what Lucy had to say.Lucy implored the two former detectives to understand what she was about to say. She didn’t have the clarity or energy to explain every detail right now. “The snow is getting cleared tomorrow. The guys, they’re . . . they’re stalling. It was all just stalling.”And understand they did.With a shout somewhere along the lines of why didn’t I think of that, Jake leapt to his feet and hurtled toward the little work desk where a pen and paper sat, ready. “Ames,” he said, a sudden spark of fire lit in his eyes that Lucy recognized all too well. It was the same spark she felt when she cracked an impossible case and all the pieces lined up.Jake continued, “Ready for some administrative espionage?”Amy’s expression instantly changed into one of what Lucy could only describe as absolutely menacing, delighted glee. “Do you have to ask?”He tore off a piece of paper and handed it to her. “From what I’ve gathered, only ten of these thirty rooms are occupied. We need the names of every single occupant in here.”Amy nodded and grabbed the paper, the rest of her lunch forgotten on the desk. “I’m on it.” And with that, she was out the door, walkie and side piece hidden snugly under her cardigan.“Hold on,” Tim said, raising his hand, eyebrows drawn together in deep concentration. “I’m not following yet. What exactly are you saying?”Lucy was right in the middle of a giant bite of fried chicken, so she motioned to Jake to fill in for her. “I wondered the same thing,” Jake said, still furiously scribbling notes. “Why would someone kidnap just a single person, without making any sort of mass-panic threats to the general public? They knew we were police officers this whole time . . . Actually, we should probably be more careful about saying those things so loud.”Lucy chuckled in agreement.Jake continued. “So, when the phone call came, they knew we were cops so they ordered us to keep quiet or else people die. One, specifically. But then, you escaped–” he quickly met Lucy’s eyes and grinned, “and their whole ransom plan fell apart. But nothing happened. Suspicious, right?”Tim seemed to nod automatically. “Right.”Suddenly, little Bree piped up. “Kain,” she said confidently. “Ka-a-in!” Jake looked down at her, the gears in his brain turning visibly. He leaned down and scooped her up, which sent Mac into a mad rush around the room again, feeling released from his spot with the plate of food. Both kids yelled the same name as if it was a nursery rhyme.Kain, Kain, Kain.
Kain.
“You’re right, cheese curd,” he said as Bree grabbed his hoodie strings and swung them side to side. “It’s all about Kain.”“ Sanford Kain?” Tim clarified.Jake grinned as Mac made a stealthy pass between his legs and rolled to a stop under the desk. “The one and only.”“But what about the stalling?” Tim pressed.So Lucy picked up where Jake left off. “I saw the news about the roads getting cleared, and thought if the guys who took me are planning something horrible, we have to stall them for a day until the cops can get here.”“And those guys might be thinking the same thing . . .” Tim put the pieces together. “About us. But the other way around.”Lucy nodded, idly pushing around the few pieces of vegetable left on her plate, lost in thought.“It was probably their plan from the beginning,” Jake added. “There is something or someone very, very valuable in here that we don’t know about, and they wanted to keep it that way.”“That’s why Kain lied about his name but his wife didn’t know,” Tim guessed. “She thought we misheard, but really her husband wanted to distract us and send us on a wild goose chase.”“Exactly,” Jake said, swinging his daughter around and tossing her unceremoniously onto the big comfy armchair. She squealed and dashed to hide with her brother under the desk where their dad worked.Lucy looked up from her plate. “Weird that he would bring her along in the first place.”“She did say this was a common occurrence,” Jake countered. “Which implies that he always brings her along and she hasn’t found out what he does yet.”“Maybe for appearance’s sake,” Lucy suggested.Tim seemed to agree. “A single guy in his seventies coming to stay at a luxury resort alone . . . Suspicious.”The man near the door – who Lucy was informed was an armored car driver named Lance Perry – began to stir, his snores gradually increasing in volume before suddenly stopping altogether. He jerked himself upright, eyes wide open. The handcuffs made a harsh clanging sound against the metal shoe rack.“Oh, look who’s alive,” Jake said, completely deadpan. Lance groaned and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “What happened?”Mac giggled from under the table. “Mister Perry is alive,” he said gleefully.“Barely alive,” Perry corrected and leaned his head against the wall, glancing around the room in mild fear like they would kill him without a second thought. “Why does my brain feel like it’s been through a meat grinder?”“Sorry about that,” Tim said, and Lucy could feel his embarrassment and regret radiating off his body. “I might have lost it just a little bit.”Lance cracked an eye open and tilted his chin toward Tim. “Found your wife?”“Yeah, I mean . . . she found me.” The driver gave a firm nod, and closed his eyes again. “Then we’re straight. Just don’t do that again.”Tim seemed to deflate just a bit as the weight of his actions lifted away. “Noted. Thanks.”“So, mister Perry,” Jake said after a beat. “We have reason to believe your entire truck full of money is in jeopardy right now. The same guys who took Lucy seem to be after valuables around the lodge, and you just so happen to have the most valuable one.”Lance shook his head. “This was my second stop for the day. There’s hardly a thousand bucks on that bad boy, honestly.”Tim moved to spring up from his seat, but Lucy grabbed his elbow before he could do anything stupid. Instead, Jake picked his way across the food-strewn floor and stood tall over the driver. “Why didn’t you say that before ?”As large as he was, Lance seemed to shrink into the corner. “I’m not allowed to say how much is in the truck. Gotta protect it the same no matter how much money’s in it.”“So why only tell us now?” Lucy demanded.Lance sighed deeply and adjusted himself against the wall. “I’m also not allowed to drink on the job – penalty of termination. So I’m getting fired anyway. Might as well help out.”“Would’ve been nice to know about two hours ago,” Tim ground out from behind his clenched jaw.“Well, I seem to remember being too busy being unconscious–” “Gentlemen!” Jake exclaimed, hands on his hips. “Maybe more crime fighting, less each other fighting? Please?”Lucy thought they were straight. But as it turned out, they still had some major smoothing over to do.“Fine,” Lance said sharply. “Great,” Jake replied. “Now that everyone’s on the same page–” he sent a pointed glare toward Tim, “let’s–”But at that moment, before he could finish his sentence, Amy burst through the door, face flushed red, the paper full of names clutched in her hand. “I got them!” she exclaimed, breathless. “Got them.”Lucy grinned at the woman’s excitement. “Now,” Amy continued. “Did either of you bring a laptop?”..As it turned out, it paid to be prepared. Lucy had gone back and forth on her decision to bring her small laptop, but in the end figured maybe she would just have some down time to shop online and browse for baby things. Or maybe it was her super-detective gut feeling saying, “Bring the laptop.” Either way, it worked out. Now, she and Amy pored over the screen and the list of people, comparing each name with their respective police file, scanning for convicted felons, celebrities, or anyone who might have a target on their back. Unfortunately, this particular group of people seemed fairly tame at first glance. They were almost all fairly mid-range middle class retired couples who lived in a coastal state and just wanted a vacation somewhere with new scenery.It was harder to find someone with a suspicious amount of money or influence than Lucy had thought. The room was hauntingly quiet.Jake had (quite easily, thanks to the exhausting day) put the kids down for a nap on the luxurious king-sized bed, adjusting the door carefully so it just barely cracked open. Now he and Tim sat in the corner with Lance, arguing in hushed voices about whether or not to alert the employees of the lodge to this situation, and which ones could be – as Jake put it – evil bastards.And with each scratch of Amy’s pen on the paper, scribbling notes on each of the guests, Lucy felt the time creeping away. It was already almost two o’clock, and she wondered how long it would be before that sinking feeling in her gut returned, warning of impending doom.She glanced across the room where Tim sat with his back against the hallway closet door, one leg propped up with his arm slung across his knee. His free hand tapped the floor and his lips were pursed tightly together. He was clearly stressed, even though he would never admit it. Lucy felt a wave of guilt suddenly rush through her body. It had been her idea to come to this lodge for a very precious, very coveted vacation which they’d been looking forward to for a long time. It had been her insisting that they needed a change of scenery that brought them here in the first place. And now it had all gone completely wrong. Their trip was wasted, and with the babies’ arrival coming ever closer, it was highly unlikely they’d get any reasonable amount of quality time away together before their lives flipped completely upside down. How could she be so selfish?The guilt was so strangulating that her stomach suddenly turned and her vision swam, and she excused herself from Amy’s side, blaming the heartburn and that she just needed to get up and move around. She interrupted the boys’ conversation with a tap on her husband’s shoulder and a gesture toward the door, and Tim immediately read her mind.Out in the hallway, Tim shut the door behind them. His eyebrows drew together in deep concern. “What’s going on?”She took a breath and tried to center herself. Grabbed Tim’s hand as she spoke. “I just, I . . . I needed to say that . . . I’m sorry.”Now his expression changed to utter confusion. “For what?”Lucy held a hand to the side of her neck, tugging on the tension point that had been paining her since lunch. “For . . . dragging you here. Getting us into this whole mess. Wandering in an unknown area after you went to sleep. Ruining our anniversary today–”“Stop,” Tim ordered. “You stop that right now, Chen. You do realize that all this was out of our control, right?”Lucy looked to the side, her eyes wandering around the hallway and staring into space. She bit her lip to stop the tears that were quickly threatening to appear. Not because of Tim’s harsh tone, of course – the intensity of his voice was how she knew he cared – but from the unstoppable spiraling of guilt and adrenaline and panic and exhaustion and probably some hormones too, as much as she hated to admit it.“Lucy, listen to me.” He caught her chin with his fingers and guided her gaze back to those striking blue eyes she loved so much. “This is not your fault, or mine, or Jake and Amy’s, or anyone’s except whichever bastard decided to kidnap you on our anniversary trip. It’s a weird coincidence – the wrong place, wrong time, and the only thing we can do now is help solve this case and keep everyone safe until the cops get here tomorrow.” His voice softened and he raised his hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “And you know – A little kidnapping problem never stopped us before, right?”At that, a bit of the anxiety lifted from her chest and dissipated. “Yeah. I guess we’ve been through slightly worse than this, huh?” she managed. Tim snorted at her understatement of the century, and she could see the familiar expression of mild exasperation mixed with something resembling love and admiration too. She noticed the dark circles forming under his eyes, but also the smile and stress lines that had only become more defined these last seven years. Considering their respective policing careers, this day had been a walk in the park. She had a tattoo on her ribcage to prove it. Although she’d had all the best training, mentors, and resources, in all her time undercover, she’d still been nervous, of course. And every time she came home after an extended assignment, they’d spent hours just simply laying in bed or on the couch together, doing nothing but relishing each other’s presence and talking through their time apart. She shared as much as she could, and Tim – having learned from his past mistakes – never failed to tell her how much he’d missed her or how every time she left he felt like his heart had gone with her . . . or how proud he was of her, and yet how glad he was that she came home whole and safe. The memory of their talks and the thought of his unwavering support was what got her through each assignment – They were what comforted her in days or weeks alone in various hotels and uncertain living conditions, because at the end of the day he was her anchor. Her safe place. Her constant. Her home.She hadn’t gone on assignment since the day she read that positive pregnancy test and nearly broke down sobbing on the bathroom floor, out of sheer joy and the overwhelming emotions she couldn’t quite place. From that moment on, nothing else really mattered except her family’s safety. She knew she could take care of herself in almost any situation, but it wasn’t worth the risk. So she had taken a page out of Lopez and Harper’s books and requested a permanent spot with the detectives that same week. It had taken less than two minutes and a quick, matter-of-fact explanation in the recently-promoted Lieutenant Grey’s office with Tim by her side for her request to be immediately approved. She still often chuckled to herself when she remembered the wide, unstoppable, glee-filled grin Grey had bestowed upon them when he processed the announcement. He gave them both crushing handshakes and Lucy could have sworn there were tears in his eyes.That had felt like the end of an era; like the very distinct turning of a page. Like she’d put undercover work behind her for the time being and she didn’t have to worry about simply staying alive and maintaining a cover anymore.But now, scraps of that uncertainty and anxiety and forced independence was setting her entire being on edge. And she was pretty sure Tim could tell without much effort that it was bothering her, among everything else.Standing there in the hallway, he gathered her into a comfortable, familiar embrace with a soft, whispered, “Come here.” . . . Except now, Lucy had to stand somewhat sideways against her husband so she could actually hug him properly without their children getting in the way. She tucked her head right against the base of his collarbone, listening to his steady heartbeat. “Let’s head back home tomorrow,” she suggested. “Go to the beach or something.”She felt more than heard his immediate chuckle, rumbling low in his chest. His hand ran idly up and down her back, tangling in her hair. Familiar. Comforting. “You know what, Chen,” he said affectionately, “I thought you’d never ask.”..Amy, being the genius she obviously was, might have found the target.“Everyone, meet Ronan Reeves,” she said, pointing toward the laptop screen where the police profile for a young, twenty-six year old man showed an ID photo that looked suspiciously like a mugshot, and some background information. Lucy lowered herself back into the chair and examined the page. The boy’s face was round and smug, with anemic dark patches under his eyes and a somewhat-jarring, side swept 2010 Justin Bieber haircut. “He’s one of the guests here,” Lucy said, almost immediately recognizing him from one or two sightings across the dining room.Amy nodded as the men leaned in for a better look. “He’s here with his girlfriend Helena Walsh. They arrived a day before we did, and apparently they’re regulars. They live together in central Montana . . . and Ronan is a nepo baby.” She added a dose of disdain to that last part, and Lucy fought back a grin. Everyone in California knew a thing or two about nepotism.“So he’s a huge jerk,” Jake translated. “Seems like it,” Amy went on. “He’s been in trouble with the law in at least four different states, in just the last two years. It’s amazing that he hasn’t been locked up for longer yet.”“It’s the nepotism,” Tim and Lucy said in perfect unison. She looked up and caught Tim’s gaze. He winked.“Mmhm,” Amy agreed. “Definitely. This kid gets away with everything. Colorado’s one of the few states that doesn’t have a warrant out for his arrest, hence . . . he’s here a lot.”“Who’s his family?” Jake asked.“Classic Hollywood actor named Richard Reeves – starred in all kinds of romance films back in the day.”Everyone slowly and comically craned their necks around to stare up at Tim, who’d dropped that bomb without any sort of warning.“What?” he asked indignantly, hands raised in a show of innocence. “My sister used to never shut up about old Hollywood.”Jake and Amy shared an amused glance and Lucy laughed, patting her husband on the arm. Admittedly, that did sound like Genny.“So,” Amy hesitated. “Richard was Ronan’s . . .”“Grandfather,” Tim answered. “I think. Or maybe his great-uncle.”“Oh,” she said, and Lucy saw recognition in her expression. “Then that means his mom is Rhoda Reeves, right?”Lucy’s jaw dropped. “The Rhoda Reeves? From Down in the Valley ?”Amy nodded. “That’s the one.”“And apparently–” Jake didn’t look up from his phone as he read off the Wikipedia article. “Ronan’s dad was Eric Dougherty – played for the Lakers back in the day. Crazy successful, but died from an unexplained heart attack the night before a game, right before Ronan was born. His family got all kinds of support from the NBA after that. Not like they needed even more money, but . . . you know. And then his mom never remarried and threw all her energy into her son.”“So,” Lucy said. “This Ronan guy is a spoiled only child with celebrity parents and grandparents, and he feels invincible because he has some fame and a tragic backstory.”“Which makes him a great target for a guy who wants some easy cash from a rich, influential family,” Amy finished. “Is there a file on his girlfriend?” Jake asked. “I can’t find her online.”Amy clicked a few times, typed something out, and the file for Helena Walsh loaded up.For the second time, Lucy’s jaw dropped . . . but this time the room went deadly silent. Because under her picture stood the name Helena Walsh, as they expected. But that wasn’t her.It couldn’t be.Because in that picture was the face of the lodge receptionist.Vesa Wescott.“Woah,” Jake said. “Plot twist.”No sooner had he said that, then there was a sudden yet timid knock at the door. All four of them jumped slightly at the sound, and Lance Perry’s handcuff rattled against the shoe rack as the man startled awake.Jake ran to open the door, but not before latching the chain and poking his head around carefully to see who stood there. Lucy noticed Tim rest a hand against his hip where she knew he carried his pistol. “Marcia?” Jake exclaimed, slammed the door shut, undid the chain, and opened it to reveal a tiny, frail looking woman, probably in her mid-seventies, with wispy gray hair and holding a thick, electric blue cardigan tightly around herself. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her lips pursed into a thin line. “Hello again,” she said quietly. Lucy had to strain to hear from across the room.“Is–” Jake fumbled and arranged himself to hide the man currently dozing off on the floor, handcuffed to the wall. “Can I help you?”Marcia seemed to hesitate just slightly. “Actually, yes. You’re . . .” She looked across the room, straight at Tim, and her gaze seemed to harden into pure determination. “You’re police officers?”“Yes, ma’am,” Jake said, without elaborating any further.“Well, then you can help me,” she said, still a hint of question in her voice. “My husband is missing and I don’t know what to do.”..Whoever said three’s a crowd never considered six.Thankfully, the children still slept soundly in the master bedroom. Lucy kept her place at the desk while Marcia sat perched on the love seat, looking for all the world like she’d seen a ghost. Amy had placed herself next to the woman for some emotional support. Tim and Jake had found two extra stools from the kitchenette, and they placed them in front of Marcia, just to Lucy’s left. “You said this was a common occurrence for him,” Jake said as he tried to dig for more of the story.“It is,” Marcia insisted. “At least, staying out all night has been. He’s always been back before six o’clock in the morning. We always have coffee and breakfast together, then he sleeps until noon. But after you nice gentlemen visited this morning, I had a horrible feeling . . .” She visibly shuddered. “Well, it was just awful. What if something happened, or he wandered drunk outside and–” Her voice caught and Amy placed a comforting hand on the crook of her arm.“Marcia,” Lucy said with all the care and compassion she could muster. “We need you to tell us everything about your husband. We . . . we believe he’s behind a robbery attempt here in this lodge. Does he have any kind of criminal history at all?”The woman looked up, and Lucy noticed her striking green eyes, only exacerbated by the redness surrounding them. Her gaze flicked down to Lucy’s obviously pregnant abdomen, and her expression faltered for a moment into something she couldn’t quite place. But she met Lucy’s eyes again and straightened her shoulders, wrapping the cardigan around herself nervously.“Criminal,” Marcia said, but not in the horrified, indignant way people tended to respond when a false accusation was made. Instead, she seemed to accept the statement. “It’s not quite that simple, I’m afraid. Sanford has a . . . checkered past.”She hesitated, and Amy said, “We need to know, Marcia. Lots of people could be in danger today if we don’t have all the facts.”Marcia sighed and seemed to resign herself to telling them everything. Well, almost everything.“First, I think you need to understand,” she began slowly. “He and I married only twenty years ago. He never spoke much about his past before that, except bits and pieces when he’s in a good mood. I do know that he was mixed up with some nasty folks down in southern Texas for a long time, doing all sorts of horrible things. He retired from the military twenty-some before we met. I think it was that span of time that he was always in trouble with the law. “A few years before we met, I think there was an event. That’s what he calls it. The worst mistake of his life. That’s what sent him on this path of . . . Reformation, I like to say. He’s a changed man now, even if he does disappear to drink every so often on vacation. “I’ve never had reason to suspect him of anything. He’s been a wonderful husband – step-father to my son, too. He’s not the person he used to be.”The room was quiet for a minute. Lucy scribbled some notes. While Marcia spoke, Tim had caught Lucy’s left hand, and she was grateful for the silent support.Finally, Marica spoke again. “You can find him, can’t you?”Jake and Amy exchanged a look, and Lucy knew they were speaking just the same as they would with words.“We’ll do our best,” Jake said. “I think we’ll have to.”....Lucy honestly couldn’t remember when she’d fallen asleep. Marcia had gone back to her room, with Tim escorting her to show her the best way to lock and secure her door from the inside. They all promised her that they would do their absolute best to solve this case and get her husband back before tomorrow. For now, she was to stay in her room until further notice, and don’t open the door for anyone, not even room service. Amy had promised to bring her a meal around six, but until then it was effectively house arrest for Mrs. Kain.And the detectives had gone back to work.At some point, Lucy felt her chin hit her chest, which jolted her awake, and she had to fight to stay upright in her chair. Amy noticed, of course, and since the kids were awake again and boucing off the walls, she had led Lucy to the master bedroom and instructed her to take a nap for however long she needed. Lucy remembered apologizing profusely for not staying awake to help, but Amy would have none of it. Go to sleep, she’d said firmly. That’s an order. Well, no one could argue with that.Now, she blinked her eyes groggily open and checked the bedside clock. 
4:38 PM
She groaned and forced her body up, swinging her feet to the floor. The twins kicked and complained about the change in position, and her stomach growled. She helped herself to the attached bathroom, blinking in the harsh light and splashing cold water on her face, before rejoining the others in the living room area. The sight that greeted her made her smile. Jake was passed out on the loveseat, his head lolled backwards, a kids book laying half open on his lap. Mac and Bree ran their Hot Wheels across his chest and down both his arms, making the engine noises to match. Their dad snored on.Amy, however, still sat hunched over the laptop, scribbling notes on her paper.But someone was missing.“Where’s Tim?” Lucy asked, and Amy’s head whipped around to face her.“Good morning,” the other woman joked, then held up her little plastic walkie talkie. “He went to investigate the room where they held you. Thought he could question the guards on what they know.”A cold, squeezing sensation lodged itself in the pit of Lucy’s stomach . . . and it wasn’t the hunger.“No, no,” she said, though she wasn’t sure why. “No, he shouldn’t do that alone. I have to go with him.” She rushed toward the door, but Amy caught her arm to hold her back.“Wait,” Amy ordered, and turned to shake her sleeping husband’s shoulder. “Jake! Wake up, babe.”Jake grunted and cracked open one eye. “Huh?”Amy shoved the extra walkie into his hand. “Lucy and I are going to meet up with Tim. You stay here – lock the door behind us.”At that, Jake was (mostly) awake. “Got it. Okay.”Amy crouched to land a quick kiss on his lips, then on each of her kids’ heads. “Be back soon.”Then she handed Lucy another walkie. “We have four,” she explained. “Worked out great.”With that, the women were out of the door and on their mission.The lodge was eerily silent. Even at noon when she found Tim there had been guests around – not many, but enough that Lucy knew that if she needed help, she only had to yell and someone would hear. But now, there truly wasn’t a soul in sight. Only the kitchen was alive and busy, though no one sat in the dining room.The women walked slowly, each step almost silent.“This way,” Lucy said and took a right turn past the recreation room. They made their way through another hallway, through a door with a Do Not Enter sign, and around a tight corner where it looked for all the world like the hallway came to a dead end. But in reality, there was a tight corner leading to a flight of stairs that you would miss if you weren’t directly next to it. Tim had explained that he walked past it dozens of times, and now seeing it from the other side Lucy understood how. She and Amy squeezed through, and immediately the cozy vibe of the lodge changed into a certifiably creepy dungeon.Lucy pressed her hand against her hip where her pistol waited. Amy took the lead now, gun already drawn and a flashlight in her other hand. Together they crept down the stairs.Lucy heard voices. She tapped Amy on the shoulder, and the woman nodded. She heard them too.It truly felt like they were inching their way toward the voices.At some point, Amy stopped them where they could hear what was being said, but were still out of sight.
“. . . Supposed to work!”

“The plan was doomed from the start, you knew that.”
“Boss said it would work!”  
“Come on, admit it, you knew she’d get away.”

“You’re an idiot, Jenkins.”

“Yeah, well you and Gunnar aren’t geniuses either.”

“It was only a distraction, and we biffed it.”

“The boss is going to kill us personally, ain’t he?”

“I’d bet on that.”
A pause.
“Anyone know what time it is?”

“Maybe five? Heard some dishes upstairs.”

“Huh. Boss said anytime now, right?”

“Yeah, maybe.”
Amy glanced back at Lucy, her eyes wide. Without much warning, Amy shone her flashlight into the dark hallway and turned the corner, revealing the three men Lucy had tied up all those hours ago“Hey!” she hollered, and the men shut up immediately. Her tone of voice was absolutely terrifying, if Lucy was being honest. “What the hell is happening with your boss?”The men looked like a group of deer in the headlights at the sight of Lucy come back to get her revenge, or so they thought.“Uh . . .” the one she remembered as Gunnar faltered. “Tell us now,” Amy warned, “or you’re all finished.” Another one spoke up, and Lucy regonized his voice as Jenkins. “He didn’t say exactly what. Just told us it was important. Something about retribution, or whatever.”“What kind of retribution?” Amy pressed.“Listen, lady–” Gunnar said. “We don’t gotta tell you nothing. Our business is our business, and what the boss says goes. He’s the one paying so we’re gonna keep quiet.”Immediately, Lucy picked up her walkie. “Tim,” she demanded through it. “Tim, come in. Where are you?”A beat passed, and she could feel her limbs go cold with panic. Amy didn’t move the gun from the group of men. Finally, static through the walkie. “Lucy,” Tim said quietly. “I can hear you both. Keep walking. Turn left. Hundred feet. I found him.” Suddenly, a voice Lucy didn’t think she’d hear down here.“Wait!” Jake hollered through the basement. “Don’t do anything, they’re not who you think!”He came hurtling through the hallways as fast as he could, and when he reached them, Lucy gasped and Amy looked about ready to murder someone.Jake had strapped Bree to his back with one of those hiking packs made for carrying your toddler on your back in an ergonomic way while trekking up a mountain. He hauled Mac along by the hand.“Jacob Jeffrey Peralta!” Amy yelled. “What the hell?” “Sorry,” Jake said, pulling Mac closer toward him at the sight of the three tied up criminals in front of them. He held up his walkie in the other hand. “Ran outta battery.”“Your phone?” Amy demanded. “No one picked up,” he explained.Lucy held up a placating hand. “Okay. Regardless. What is going on?”Jake let out a long breath. “I figured it out.”Mac piped up, “My dad’s genius!” “Thanks buddy,” Jake said, and continued. “Something Marcia said got me thinking, and I think the power nap reset my brain or something. You know how she said more than twenty years ago, her husband committed a horrible act that set him on a path of redemption?”The women nodded. Mac jumped up and down.Jake spoke so fast, Lucy had trouble keeping up. “Well, I called the Nine-Nine again to run some more specific dates, and I looked into Ronan’s dad, and . . . That act that Sanford committed lines up with the year Eric Dougherty died. Turns out, there’s concrete evidence that they were together in the same city in Minnesota where the Lakers game would be played, for a whole week, but then Kain dipped and the day of the game – the same day Eric was found dead in the same city – Kain was arrested in Dallas, Texas. For an unrelated crime, but still.”“Oh my god,” Lucy whispered.“You did all this in five minutes?” Amy asked, clearly flabbergasted. “Okay, hold on. So Sanford Kain . . .”“Killed my father!” came a bellowing voice from down the hallway, and immediately every hair on Lucy’s body stood on end. The familiar chill of adrenaline ran down her spine. In one smooth motion, her gun was out and she and Amy stood as a barrier between the newcomer and the Peralta-Santiago children.Out of the shadows, illuminated by Amy’s flashlight, appeared the figure of a young man in his twenties, tall and disproportionately lanky, with a round face and long hair. “Ronan Reeves,” Amy said in a firm, low voice. “Don’t take another step.”Obediently, he stopped. And Lucy saw the man he was dragging by bound hands.It was Sanford Kain.And she saw the raw fear in his eyes . . . mixed with pained resignation and decades-old wounds that never healed.“This man is responsible for all my family’s pain for the last twenty-six years,” Ronan said, yanking violently on Sanford’s cuffs and jamming the barrel of a gun into his temple. “And you guys were never supposed to get in the way.”So Sanford was never the criminal here.They’d gotten it all backwards.Behind Ronan, another figure appeared.Vesa. Or rather, Helena. “Ronan,” Lucy said. She forced her voice to stay perfectly steady. More calming than Amy’s had been. Behind her, Jake ushered his kids back into the stairwell, out of harm’s way. But he kept an eye on the events unfolding in front of him.“Listen to me,” Lucy continued. “I know you experienced pain. I can’t . . . I can’t imagine what that must feel like. Losing a dad who you never got the chance to meet. But killing this man won’t make it all go away. Trust me.” Ronan laughed, mocking. “I’ve read about you, Lucy Chen. Or should I say Bradford? The perfect cop. Los Angeles’s hero. You’ve been in the news, haven’t you? For heroic acts. You were supposed to be distracted and busy, all of you. Of course, just my luck that four cops showed up the day I had this perfect revenge planned. “But how would you know anything about pain and revenge? This crook murdered an innocent man with no remorse, just for the money.” He shoved his gun further into his prisoner’s head, and Lucy saw Sanford start to shake violently. “Tell them, Kain. Tell them exactly what you did, or I pull the trigger.”“I did it,” Sanford whispered. “I was in too deep.” He stared straight into Lucy’s eyes, imploring her to understand. “I was out of the military, desperate for a place to fit in, and I got caught in with the wrong people. They made me . . .” he swallowed. “I did it. It was my own free will. I injected him when we were drunk together and he died, and I . . .” His voice shook. “I’m sorry. Ronan, I never wanted this for you. Your mom–”“Shut up about my mom!” Ronan shouted and yanked the cuffs again. “You abandoned her, when you should have been protecting her and my dad. And me. What happened to family? You murder your sister’s husband in cold blood, then skip town for decades and never even pay for what you did. Yeah, what an uncle you are.” He kicked the back of Sanford’s knees, sending his uncle – uncle?! – to the ground.Amy had obviously had enough. “Ronan, let him go. Now!” Ronan’s face was bright red. “You can’t make me.”His finger looked dangerously close to pulling that trigger.The next few things happened so fast, Lucy swore she hallucinated parts of it. She counted three seconds.
One.
An arm grabbed Ronan from the back and yanked him around, spinning him away from Sanford’s side. His gun went flying, skidding across the concrete floor. Lucy vaguely recognized Tim’s silhouette tackling Ronan to the ground.
Two.
Amy leapt forward, hurling herself toward Helena and immediately pinning her against the wall, face first. 
Three.
Lucy found herself dashing forward, holstering her gun, helping Sanford up off the ground. She heard the click of two pairs of handcuffs as Tim and Amy detained the others.And just like that, it was over.Everything went dead silent.“Woah,” came Jake’s voice from the stairwell. “Plot twist.”...

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

PART FIVE - The Rest

Tuesday - Lucy

.

In theory, Ronan Reeves had planned the perfect crime.

But he hadn't counted on the pure detective power of these four cops.

The story came out in bits and pieces over the hours after his capture.

They’d carefully blocked off a secluded wing of the recreation room, fitted it with two heavy log tables, expertly attached Ronan and Helena to said tables via handcuffs, and began the questioning. Ultimately, it would have to be the local police who dealt with them, but there were still pieces that needed to be put together before the snow was cleared.

It was Amy who took the detailed notes, but Lucy kept up in her own right.

With their combined scribblings, the conversations went something like this.

—

Jake: So. Vesa Wescott. Want to tell us what made you adopt this alias? Why were you allegedly working for the lodge?

Helena: Why would I tell you?

Amy: Maybe so we can talk to the local PD and you can get brownie points for cooperation.

Helena: What’s in it for me?

Jake: . . . Brownie points.

Helena: Then I’m not interested.

Amy: How long have you and Ronan been dating?

Helena: I dunno. We were talking for a while, then just kind of friends, then–

Amy: Seriously?

Helena: About a year.

Tim: Did you know about your boyfriend’s plan from the beginning?

Helena: Hell yeah. I was the brains behind it.

Jake: Did you also encourage him to commit bodily harm against his uncle?

Helena: . . . I plead the fifth?

Amy: Answer the question.

Helena: I’m . . . not against a little violence when the situation calls for it.

Jake: Awesome, good to know.

—

Lucy: So, Mr. Reeves. Tell me about your family.

Ronan: What is this, therapy?

Amy: I’d say it’s kind of the opposite of therapy.

Jake: . . . What exactly would be the opposite of therapy?

[...]

Lucy: If you don’t answer these questions now, they’ll just ask them again later, and next time I’m pretty sure they won’t be as nice about it.

Ronan: Fine.

Lucy: So, again. Tell me about your family. Start from the beginning.

Ronan: They all suck. People think I’m some sort of sob-story, because my grandpa was a coward and only did the froofy romance gigs in movies. He forced my mom to marry the guy who knocked her up. Kept her under a rock her whole life because her big brother – half brother – spun out and ruined his life, and he didn’t trust her not to go overdose in a strip club or something.

Amy: The big brother being . . .

Ronan: Raymond. Or Sanford, or Silas, or whatever he goes by these days.

Tim: Raymond Reeves?

Ronan: Yeah. Duh.

Jake: Can you tell us about your dad?

Ronan: My mom . . . She told me he was a firefighter and died in a California forest fire. Didn’t even know his real name till I turned twenty.

Lucy: So you didn’t know anything about him until six years ago?

Ronan: Yeah. Really messed my mom up though. She kinda went crazy after she had me. Drinking, drugs, all that shit.

Amy: How long have you been hunting your uncle?

Ronan: Six years.

Amy: How did you find out that he was the murderer?

Ronan: Always wondered. Had a gut feeling, you know? He called my mom a week before it happened, she said he was crying and high on something, blabbering about choices or whatever. She didn’t suspect it then, but afterward she always wondered.

Lucy: So you tracked him here . . . how?

Ronan: Let’s just say I have connections.

Lucy: You don’t feel like elaborating?

Ronan: I’ll save it for court.

Lucy: Fair enough.

—

Jake: So, the star of the show. What are you actually going by these days? Raymond? Silas? Sanford?

Raymond: Take your pick.

Jake: Raymond it is, then. Can we safely assume that everything your nephew said about you is true?

Raymond: I don’t know. His mother was unstable and deceptive. I don’t know where he got his information from.

Amy: But you did confess to murdering his father.

Raymond: Yeah. Biggest mistake of my life.

Amy: We want to get the timeline straight. You were in the Marine Corps until you retired at twenty-nine, then spent some time off-grid in Alaska, before joining the Southern Front in Texas. You worked for them under an alias for twenty-odd years. Murdered Eric Dougherty in Minnesota, then changed your name again, laid low for six years, then married Marcia Hill and pretended like none of it happened for another twenty years, until your nephew got smart and decided to hunt down his father’s killer . . . who happened to be you.

Raymond: You guys really do your research.

Amy: We’ve been doing this for a long time.

Lucy: Did you know Ronan was going to be here this week?

Raymond: . . . Yes. I wanted to make amends.

Amy: And you never considered that he might have the opposite in mind?

Raymond: I don’t know. I never met him before this morning. Guess it was the optimist getting ahead of me.

Jake: So you did mean to send us on a wild goose chase after the so-called thief.

Raymond: Yeah. Yeah, I didn’t know there’d be four cops here, and my picture ain't exactly unknown in the law enforcement world.

Lucy: So you fed us another fake alias and hoped we’d focus on the thief in the building while we were all snowed in, instead of where we might recognize you from.

Tim: Raymond, did you . . . Did you arrange for my wife’s capture?

Raymond: No, of course not. I’m not that person anymore.

Amy: Is Marcia in on any of this?

Raymond: No! No, she’s innocent. She’s an angel.

Jake: Isn’t that nice, dragging the missus into all of this.

Amy: Jake, stop.

[...]

Lucy: Raymond, thanks for your honesty. I’m hoping the local law will be fair and take into consideration your cooperation today.

—

.

.

.

Wednesday - Lucy

.

Lucy woke to the sound of snowplows in the parking lot, and she thought for sure she had never loved the cacophony of machinery more.

She rolled over, simply basking in the warmth and the heavy, comforting feeling of a good night’s sleep.

Tim was gone, his blankets already straightened out on his side of the bed, but she heard the coffee maker bubbling and whining from the kitchenette, along with the clink of two coffee mugs on the counter.

She knew she should get up soon and check on the Peralta-Santiago family, but resting was just too nice.

Right after the semi-interrogations yesterday, they had released Lance Perry from his spot on the floor, and apologized profusely for the harsh treatment. He was surprisingly gracious and understanding, and Lucy wondered if he even remembered most of it, having been so mentally out of sorts. She hoped he didn’t get in too much trouble with his employer, although he assured them he’d only be fired and not much more.

Tim and Amy had then dragged Ronan, Raymond, and Helena up to the third floor and secured them for the night. Lucy wasn’t sure what exactly they’d done with them, but the lodge was silent and for that she was grateful.

The families had eaten dinner together in relative silence, the day’s events on repeat in all their minds. Even the kids were uncharactaristically quiet.

They’d all debated about what and how much to tell Marcia, and eventually decided on informing her that her husband was found alive and whole, but he might be in trouble with the cops later, and that she should get some rest and worry about her husband in the morning.

Everyone had fallen asleep before eight that night.

And now, Lucy was grateful for a slow morning.

She stretched and yawned and inched her way up and toward the bathroom.

Having donned a fresh hoodie, sweatpants, and slipper socks, brushed her teeth and hair, and moisturized her face, she felt like a new woman.

The twins said good morning with a double kick straight to her ribs and bladder, at the same time.

“Hey,” she scolded, running a hand over her abdomen as she made her way to the main room. “That was rude.”

“What was rude?” Tim called. He sat perched on one of the kitchenette stools and scooted a mug of steaming hot coffee and plate of toast across the counter toward her as she approached.

She thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and settled next to him on the other stool.

“Your kids,” she explained. “Ungrateful little turds.”

Immediately he patted her stomach, leaning down to whisper, “Don’t listen to her, guys.”

Lucy just smiled, shook her head, and sipped her coffee.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked eventually.

“Like a rock,” she said with a laugh.

Suddenly, a quiet knock at the door.

Tim jumped up to answer it, and the next thing they knew, the Bradford’s quiet room was being overrun by two very, very excited tiny detectives-in-training and their grinning parents.

“Snowplow, snowplow!” Mac yelled, sprinting circles around the coffee table. “The snowplow’s here!”

Lucy laughed, took another sip of coffee, and stood up to hug Jake and Amy in greeting.

“You two doing okay?” Amy asked while Jake made a valiant attempt at rounding up his little minis, to no avail.

“Yeah, we’re really great,” Lucy said, and watched grinning as Mac launched himself directly into Tim’s legs, sending the man stumbling backwards into the wall, thankfully catching himself before he hit the ground.

Lucy covered her mouth as the already-chaotic scene just got worse, as that attack clearly triggered Tim’s uncle/dad/big brother mode, and he lowered himself to Mac’s height and made a lunge for the quickly-moving child. Bree screamed in delight and copied her brother in evading Tim, who made a show of missing every time. Of course, Jake joined in without much convincing, and it wasn’t long before the room was a swirling cacophony of kid’s screams and two men in their forties who suddenly turned into hyperactive ten year old boys.

Watching from the sidelines, Lucy poured Amy a cup of coffee, and they waited out the chaos, laughing along with the men, and cheering for the kids as they wrestled and eventually gained the upper hand.

By the time the excitement settled down, the men were huffing and puffing, sprawled face-down out on the floor while the kids crawled on their backs and giggled.

Suddenly, Lucy couldn’t see. A lump formed in her throat and a couple tears escaped, all within a split second. She held a hand to her chest, trying to suppress the overwhelming emotions that completely caught her off guard.

In her mind’s eye, Mac and Bree turned into two identical four-year-olds with swinging pigtails and flower dresses.

Of course, she’d pictured herself and Tim as parents, even before she was pregnant. And every time, she knew the role of father would fit him perfectly . . . But it had never really been

this

clear before.

Amy reached over to clasp Lucy’s hand, as soon as she noticed the tears escaping.

“Sorry,” Lucy whispered, furiously wiping her face.

Amy shook her head and gave her a look that clearly said,

I understand.

.

.

At some point, the group wandered down to the lobby to watch the snowplows work hard in the parking lot. There was a crew of at least fifteen men hand-digging each car out individually, while the massive trucks shoved the bigger areas clear. The whole thing was almost half done, and it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet.

The kids pressed their hands and noses up against the glass, watching with absolute rapt attention.

“Oh!” Amy exclaimed, and turned to Lucy. “You know what this means.”

Lucy tilted her head, not quite sure what she was saying.

“The police,” Amy clarified. “We can call the cops and get this whole thing sorted out.”

Jake handed Lucy a piece of paper with what she could only describe as a mischievous glint in his eye. “Already got the non-emergency number for the Estes Park PD. Care to do the honors?”

Lucy laughed, partly relief, partly pure glee at the change of circumstance from yesterday. “Do you have to ask?”

That might have been the greatest phone call she’d ever placed.

She only remembered saying something along the lines of,

We were snowed in since Monday, and I was captured, then I escaped and me and my husband and our new friends – who are all cops, by the way – stopped a celebrity’s kid from murdering his uncle, who is actually wanted in forty-three states. Oh, and they’re all tied up in an empty room at the moment.

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening.

“I, uh . . .” the dispatcher said. “Thank you for the information. I’m sending three available units to your location right away. Is everyone alright?”

Lucy scanned the group quickly.

The kids still had their faced pressed up against the window, and now Jake had joined them, leaning his forehead against the glass.

Tim stood with his arms crossed just behind the kids and threw his head backward as he laughed at something Amy had said.

The rising sun shone golden through the glass, and Lucy got lost in the sweetness of it all.

Alright

was an understatement.

“Ma’am? Are you still with me?”

“Yeah, sorrry,” she assured the dispatcher. “Yeah, we’re all okay.”

.

.

.

It was, in some way, cathartic watching six police officers drag the six criminals to the cop cars that waited in a now-cleared parking lot.

Tim stood with his arm slung firmly over Lucy’s shoulder as they paraded by. Ronan sent a stink-eye her way the likes of which Lucy rarely saw, even in her line of work.

Raymond’s eyes were red-rimmed and he stared at the floor the whole way out. Poor Marcia clung to Amy as her husband was taken away, and Lucy’s heart broke for her.

The chances were good that Raymond would be spending the rest of his life in prison.

At least he’d been straightforward and honest. That always flew well with judges.

“I hope they reduce his sentence,” she murmured to Tim, who nodded.

“Me too.”

Helena kept her smug, unapologetic expression – night and day from the shy, slightly annoyed character she’d played the last few days.

And the three men who’d been guarding Lucy . . . They looked

awful.

She felt a sudden pang of regret at the sight of their swollen red and purple faces.

But when she looked up at Tim to say how sorry she was for them, his expression was almost

proud.

Okay, fine. She wouldn’t ruin it for him with regret. Yet.

.

.

.

Packing their room didn’t take all that long, but it exhausted Lucy just the same. She sat heavily onto the sofa, the last duffel bag at her feet.

She looked around at the cozy, cabin-like decorations that had seemed so warm and inviting on Sunday. But now, she just wanted to leave them behind.

The events of yesterday felt like a century ago.

It was a strange feeling. She’d been through much, much worse than this, but something about everything put together still just made her uneasy. Maybe it was the claustrophobia of it all – Being trapped here with no chance for escape. Having to deal with whatever happened, and with no hope for backup.

Tim returned from loading up the truck, and she breathed a sigh when he walked through the door.

He smiled gently. “What?”

“What a bust this trip was,” she said, returning his smile, though hers was laced with guilt.

He settled in beside her, and she immediately melted into his side, leaning her head on his shoulder. He wrapped her up in a tight embrace and placed a firm kiss on her hair.

“No it wasn’t,” he insisted. “There was . . . something really good that came out it, actually.”

Lucy drew her eyebrows together and looked up at him, questioning.

He hesitated for a minute. “I kind of had an epiphany. After Jake knocked me out for beating up Lance.”

She waited.

“I may have accidentally named our daughters.”

“Daughters? So you admit it!” Lucy had so many questions, but decided to be quiet now and let him explain.

“Hah. See,” he continued. “I had this really specific dream. Not dream, I guess. More like a vision. I can’t really explain it. You were holding the babies, and they were definitely girls. And you said their names . . . You said they should be Aster and Briar.”

Lucy gasped. “Tim, that’s . . . they’re

perfect.

I love it.”

He grinned and raised a hand to wipe away a stray tear. His voice only shook a little bit when he said, “I thought so too.”

.

.

.

Unfortunately, the time had quickly come for goodbyes. Lucy was absolutely itching to get out of this place, and she’d already called ahead to reserve a small hotel room in Utah at the halfway mark for their drive. It was nearing noon, and they had almost six hours of driving ahead of them.

The couples exchanged heartfelt hugs and handshakes and phone numbers.

Jake said a tear-filled, "Great solving a case together guys. Let's do it more often."

“I don’t know how to thank you guys for everything,” Lucy said, fighting back tears, too. “Please . . . Please stay in touch. Maybe come visit in the summer.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit LA for

real

someday,” Jake added as Bree clung tightly to his neck, clearly overwhelmed by the emotions the adults were exhibiting. “Not just for a funeral with a bunch of grumpy, impatient coworkers who wouldn’t even let me enjoy Nakatomi Plaza–”

Amy hit him on the arm.

“Just say when,” Lucy said, already excited to show their new friends all around the city she knew inside and out.

“Are you sure?” Amy pressed. “I don’t want to be a–”

Tim raised a hand to stop her. “We have a guest room now, and a dog who loves kids.”

Lucy felt pride well up in her chest at her husbands gesture of generosity and hospitality. “I bet Tim would even break his

no Disneyland

rule for you guys.”

Jake’s eyes lit up, and Mac jumped up and down, chanting, “Disneyland, Disneyland!”

Amy placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “We’ll take you up on that someday.” Her eyes glistened with thanks.

.

.

.

The snow crunched loudly under the truck tires, and Lucy tucked her fluffy blanket firmly around herself in the passenger seat, already shivering in the frigid air.

In the distance, the mountains seemed to glisten and sparkle, and Lucy took it as their sweet goodbye.

One last time, she turned around to look at the lodge . . . and noticed the Peralta-Santiago family at the front door, waving at the Bradford’s retreating truck. She grinned, rolled down her window despite the cold, and stuck her arm out to wave the whole way across the parking lot, miming blowing kisses toward the kids, who jumped around and hit the glass with their little hands, blowing kisses back. Jake and Amy laughed at their antics and joined the frantic waving.

“Seems like something good always comes out of the worst cases, doesn’t it?” she said after rolling the window back up, blasting the heat, and sniffling away the cold . . . and the emotions.

Tim nodded. “Yeah . . . seems like it.”

She looked over and thought, again, probably for the hundred millionth time, how much she loved him. How familiar this was – driving together. How she would never deserve him, no matter how many newspaper articles she appeared in, or how many good deeds she did in her career.

Tim would always be the one thing she could never earn, no matter how hard she tried.

Because they

chose

each other. Through tumultuous jobs and relationship issues and questions and roadblocks, they

decided

that the other was worth it. That their being together was worth the risk.

Her heart almost burst, for the umpteenth time that week.

“So,” Tim said after a while, tapping the steering wheel with a grin on his face. “Same place, same time next year?”

She let out a shocked laugh and smacked the arm closest to her.

“Bradford,” she said, meaning every word. “You’re an idiot.”

.

.

.

FIN

.