If You'll Believe In Me

"The fuck it isn't," I say, and he is quiet for a few seconds. "I know you don't print the passports or the IDs until we're on the move. You probably use gender neutral names if I had to guess. Control F replace male with female and let her in this fucking van."

"Your accounts will be a fifty thousand lighter for the rush job," he says, and I agree to pay it. "Hand me back to my associate."

The man listens for a moment, then hangs up. He asks us to stand still and takes a picture of both of us. I will assume that is for the IDs. Both of our bags are thrown into the back, and we are required to hand over any electronics we have on us. We climb into the seats, the door slides shut, and we are taken to our new lives.

--

Thursday -- October 22, 2026

-Chase Kramner-

I can still feel my toes. If I close my eyes and focus, I swear I can feel them flex. When I open my eyes, my brain nearly collapses at the cognitive dissonance. The feeling is insanely weird, and I'm rather amused at its absurdity. The pain is more irritating than anything else; like television static when you have a headache.

Because of my recovery, I miss Nathan's service. He died because I couldn't pull him out fast enough. Because I didn't see the ambush in time. I've had everyone tell me it wasn't my fault, but I don't believe them. He has a widow and a daughter who will never see her father again because I drove us into a kill box.

Nicole and Jenn have both taken some leave to help, but I'm generally able to get out of the bed and lower myself to a wheelchair. In a few days, the doctor will fit me with a temporary prosthetic and encourages me to get used to that while I'm getting fitted for a permanent one. I might even be able to go home by the start of next week.

Midge arrives with a secure travel bag, while Jenn is quietly doing some case work after Nicole had gone to crash at my apartment for the night. Her face suggests she has made some development on the Russians, Alice, or both.

"Evening," Midge says, and closes the hospital door. "I found her."

"Where is she?" I ask.

"Not what I mean," Midge says, which confuses me. "I mean, I found out who she really is. Her real name." Midge opens her travel bag with a key and removes a file from it. Her belly sways across the room, and she hands the file to me after I slide my serving table over. "Alecia Valentine."

"How'd you figure it out?" I ask while opening the file. I see a picture of a beaming five-year-old blonde girl who was allegedly kidnapped by her father sixteen years ago.

"Remember that missing video from Saul's snuff collection?" she asks, and I nod. "FBI found it in Zillah Calvin's apartment, packaged for them like a gift. It is two years old and is labeled Valentine. The video is of Alice, or Alecia, only she refused to partake in the merchandising of herself. Saul repeatedly raped her to comply. He then branded her with tattoos Shelby tells me is to shame victims. Hands with eyes in the palm were tattooed on her sides. I asked Yvonne, who found the Alecia Valentine case for me with the information."

"Her father was Marine Force Recon," I say aloud. I was right about her knife style.

"Not only that. After his service he was a wacko anti-government survivalist," Midge says, and I start reading about that. Her father trained her. "Two years ago, her father was found so riddled with bullets they needed DNA to identify his body. He was linked by a joint ATF and DHS investigation into Russian small-arms trafficking. Mainly selling them to weird militia groups, and I think he pissed them off. Alecia's body wasn't with him, so I think the Russians took her as a bonus. They tried unsuccessfully to pimp her, and realized she had other potential, so turned her into an assassin instead."

There are so many unanswered questions about this woman, that only she can answer. "Any idea where she is?" I ask.

"She's a ghost," Midge says, and I keep reading the casefile.

I look at the pictures of the inside of the deep wood Appalachia Unabomber shed they lived in. Evidence collection found the capability of making bullets and basic explosives. Next to the bed I presume was Alecia's was a collection of children's books and toys. Her father trained her, but also kept her in a perpetual state of arrested development. There is a high probability he did more than just kidnap her.

Unfortunately, my head just cannot focus on this right now. I hand the casefile back to Midge who secures it inside the bag. After a brief, but pleasant conversation, Midge departs.

Jenn climbs on to the hospital bed with me, resting her head on my chest to watch the hospitals poor selection of channels. I stay on the local news which shows the local city debates between the two candidates, but not Chief Whitaker. Instead, he is brilliantly hosting a question and answer outside of the debates according to the news ticker on the bottom of the screen. I asked Jenn to grab my laptop and we find where it is being streamed. More people are watching him than the debates. He might win this thing.

--

Friday -- October 30, 2026

-Midge Appletree-

I have a greater appreciation for Will's job since I started doing it. With both Sergeants on leave, their duties have been given to me for the time being. Lieutenant Ito is taking some time off to help Chase, but Lieutenant Whitmore is certainly picking up the slack. Lieutenant Eastland is working her ass off coordinating with federal agencies to clean up this mess. I'm mostly working on evidence packages to send to the FBI and State Department.

Today I clock out at ten o'clock, and don't get to the elevator before I hear my name. I turn around and see Lieutenant Eastland.

"Ma'am," I say.

"Glad I caught you. You on your way out?" she asks, and I nod. "I'll walk with you." What is this about? We board the elevator together and I press the ground floor.

"How's Chase?" I ask.

"Part of why I wanted to talk to you," she says. My interest is piqued. "Chase let me know today that he's filing a medical packet." Chase is getting out. I'm not surprised someone would after losing a leg; I'm just surprised Chase would. "It's more than just the injury. Things with him and Jenn are pretty serious, and he wants to focus on that."

"Okay. His call. Why does that make you want to talk to me though?" I ask. The elevator opens, and we step off.

"That means the sergeant slot in SI is going to be open when he's out. This goes one of two ways; either I give command a name, or command gives me a name. I asked Chase who he would like to replace him. Without reservation, he picked you," she says, and I stop walking. I'm not a sergeant. Yet? "It comes with the promotion. You'd start after your maternity leave. Chief already gave me the go ahead to hold that slot open until you can take it."

"Wow, holy shit," I say, and the baby punts my kidney. "Motherfucker!"

"You good?"

"Yeah, sorry. Little bastard is going to town in there," I say, and she laughs a little. I'm kicked again. "Knock it off."

"Do you want it?" Lieutenant Eastland asks, and I nod. "I'm glad. Go home, we'll talk more about it later."

"Yes ma'am," I say, then we awkwardly walk in the same direction for another twenty feet before splitting up in the parking garage.

--

Four Years Later...

Thursday -- October 17, 2030

-Chase Kramner-

I limp up the driveway after completing my morning run. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I sit on the second stair of the porch to check on my prosthetic. Looks undamaged, so I lean back to catch my breath, and grab the bottle of water I left on the top step. Taking a few swigs of water, I look down my driveway; a long dirt path to a road that maybe five cars drive along in a day.

Jenn and I moved here last year. We stayed in the city until she completed her twenty for retirement, and then moved here with our son Nathan. The cat came with us, and Atticus loves having a big house to roam.

As I listen to the quiet, I hear something at the screen door, and see Nathan playfully slapping it. I smile and use the bannister to stand up, and hobble inside.

"Morning buddy," I say, and pick up Nathan. He leans his head on my shoulder, and I kiss his head. "Sleep good?" We've been enforcing him not sleeping in our bed for a few months. It was not an easy transition. He's such a momma's boy. Every day this week though, he's done it without a fuss.

I carry him into the kitchen to start making breakfast while holding him. I have coffee ready and the water at a gentle boil for the poached eggs by the time Jenn wakes up. She shuffles into the room in pajama shorts and a white t-shirt, her hair mangled like it always is before she showers. Nathan starts reaching for her, so I hand him off and she sits him down on his chair.

I pour her coffee and resume work on the poached eggs. I whisk the water and carefully slide the egg into the spiral after cracking it into a small bowl.

"You watch one Gordon Ramsey video and think you're a chef," she teases.

"You haven't complained," I say, and serve her breakfast before starting work on Nathan's and then my own. Once complete we sit down as a family and enjoy our meal.

I clean the dishes and watch Nathan while Jenn showers. Once she's clean, she returns to get him dressed for the day's activity of landscaping. The kid mostly holds a bucket and appreciates nature, but we like him outside as much as possible. Plus, fall and winter clothes are so much cuter on him. Blue jeans and a flannel shirt, like a tiny lumberjack.

The little guy follows me around as I rake the leaves from our trees. His idea of helping is kicking the piles or jumping into them. I can't get mad because I want to join him, and I eventually do. I jump into the pile, and he jumps on top of me. While laying on my back, I toss him into the air while he laughs. After playtime, I put him down for a nap and enjoy some quiet time of my own while Jenn goes into town for groceries.

I pick up a letter on the coffee table and read it again. I've read it so many times since it arrived two weeks ago. A reminder for Sergeant Nathan White's memorial, which is being held today in the city. My son's namesake. A memorial for my friend who I got killed. It's already been four years. I can't face his family.

Nathan is still napping when I think I hear a car coming down our driveway. I push myself off the couch and walk to the door. There is a dust cloud down the driveway, and car pulling to a stop behind mine that isn't Jenn's. I watch as a familiar face steps out and waves up to me. I quietly open and shut the door to meet them at the bottom of the steps.

"What brings the mayor here?" I ask as I wrap Derek Whitaker in a hug. He won by a healthy enough margin, there wasn't even a runoff election. "How you been sir?"

"Derek," he corrects me. I notice he's carrying a leather bag you'd see a lawyer or other professional carrying.

"Derek, sorry. Old habits," I say with smile. "Coffee?"

"Hell yeah," he says, and we go inside, quietly. That boy has his mother's hearing.

I pour us both a cup and we sit down in the kitchen.

"How's the family?" I ask.

"The girls started kindergarten. Jesse's in New York. West Point," he says with a proud smile.

"Heard that school's hard to get into," I jest.

"About twelve percent acceptance," he says and takes a sip. "What's it like to be out of the city?"

"Had to leave. Too expensive," I say, and discretely unclip my prosthetic. "Place was costing me an arm and a..." I place the leg on the table. "...leg."

Derek stares at me, but his face contorts into a restrained, cringy smile.

"Be honest, how long have you been waiting to make that joke?" Derek asks.

"Too long, thanks for the opportunity," I say, then put my leg back on. "Why are you out here? Don't mind that you are of course, just curious."

"Your application for private investigator license. The adjudicating official called me about your character reference. Nothing but good things. Starting to miss it?" Derek asks. I chuckle a little, and raise the coffee to my lips, but sigh into it instead of drinking. I put the cup down and lean back.

"I'll always miss it," I admit, then look over my shoulder toward Nathan's bedroom. "I can take a case here and there, so I don't go insane. Mostly work with the local sheriffs as a consultant."

"Domestic life getting you?" he asks.

"It's not better or worse, it's just different," I say, and he nods to agree. "I live for that kid. I keep the cases small, and doable, and I feel satisfied without having to look at him like I gave something up."

"Fatherhood isn't a bad thing to give something up for. It's noble. I promise you, it's the most fulfilling thing you'll ever do," Derek says, and I hear the door open and close.

"Chase, I got bags in the car," I hear Jenn say. "Who's here?" She walks into the kitchen and sees Derek. "Holy shit sir."

"Derek," he corrects, and she puts the bags on the counter. Derek stands up and hugs her, then retakes his seat. "How you doing?"

"Great. Really great," Jenn says. We both hear Nathan in his room, and Jenn groans. "I woke him up."

"I got him," I say, but Jenn puts her hand on my shoulder.

"I got him, you guys talk. I'll be back in a minute," she says and leaves to take care of our son.

"She looks good," he says. "You guys ever get out to Japan to visit her family?"

"Went this summer. Her mom is intense. Marine," I say with a laugh he shares with me.

"Does Jenn know about your application?" Derek asks, and I nod. "How does she feel about it?"

"She gets it, and she knows I need it," I say. I don't like hiding things like that from Jenn. It would be near impossible to hide anyway.

"In that case, I'd like to hire you," Derek says, and I laugh. "I'm serious."

"What's the case?" I ask.

"You remember my file?" he asks, and I nod. Mine is still in my desk drawer. I took Amanda's picture out. She didn't get the justice I wanted for her, but I can live with it now. "One of them popped back up recently."

"Missing person?" I ask, and he nods. "How so?"

Derek opens the bag and places a case file on the table. He opens it up and spins it around to face me.

"Twenty-twenty, sixteen-year-old girl named Katie Grossman leaves her home one summer evening and is never seen again. She steals some property from her parents, likely to finance her expedition. I found most of the items in a pawn shop, but the trail went cold from there," he explains. I see the jewelry and electronics she stole, and the slips the owner provided,

"What resurfaced recently?" I ask.

"The only item never recovered, was her father's handgun. A Springfield Hellcat, micro-pistol. Perfect for conceal carry," he explains.

"Where was it found?" I ask, trying to see if it's in the file.

"Last week it was found in an artificial pond drained by a property development company seventy miles out of the city. Locals had the case, informed the city as a professional courtesy, but neither wants to pursue it," he says, and I see the pictures he added to the file. The gun is rusted, but the serial number was still legible.

"Aren't you the mayor?" I ask.

"I'm not using my power to force an investigation and waste resources to assuage my guilt for failing this girl. What's your rate?" he asks.

"A cup of coffee and a handshake," I say, and he smiles.

"I knew went to the right guy," he says and stands up. "I gotta get back. Memorial to get to. You should go."

I look at my coffee, and shake my head.

"I can't," I say.

"It wasn't your fault," he says.

"I drove us into it."

"You also drove them out of it," he says, putting his hand on my shoulder. "You didn't leave him behind. You saved Kaiser and Shelby. Maybe even that girl if we ever find out what became of her. No one blames you."

"I blame me," I say and use the table to push myself up.

"That's the hardest part to get through. You need to forgive yourself. I know it sounds like it should be more complicated than that, but it isn't. Forgive yourself," he says. I have nothing else to say, and he exhales and pats my arm.

"Hope to see you there," he says, and leaves the kitchen. I hear him say goodbye to Jenn, and the screen door shut a moment after that.

Nathan isn't going to return to his nap, so Jenn carries him back into the kitchen. I close the file and push it away from myself.

"He's right," Jenn says.

"No one wants me there," I say.

"Everyone wants you there," she says, and Nathan starts doing his wiggle to express his desire to be put down. Jenn places his feet on the floor, and I see the reason he wanted down was because Atticus came out of hiding. "I'm going at the very least," she says, and I don't reply. "At least help me with the groceries real quick."

I help carry some bags in and see she did more than just grocery shop. Jenn likes to spoil the kid with clothes, and I see a new dark blue navy pea coat. Perfect for formal occasions, and I know she got it for the memorial.

"He will be demure, but stylish," she says with a grin while holding it up. I give a half-hearted smirk in reply, and resume putting the food away. "Chase, talk to me."

I don't.

"Chase," Jenn says with a firmer tone. "Look at me."

"I got him killed," I say, and she shakes her head to disagree. "You weren't there."

"No. I wasn't," she says. "But the people who were there, say you did everything you could. This guilt you're carrying is you trying to control something you couldn't control. You're making his death about you."

"Fuck you," I say quietly, but she has that hearing only mothers have.

"You only say fuck you when you don't have an argument," Jenn shoots back. She's not trying to get into a fight with me, but she will always call me on my bullshit. "If the roles were flipped, would you want him blaming himself?" I'm silent for a few seconds, then shake my head. "No. Because you would know he did everything he could to save you. And he did, didn't he?"

I look at Nathan trying to pick up Atticus like Jenn and I do, but the cat is having none of it, and darts out of the room. The kid is in slow pursuit.

"Let's go see everyone," Jenn says, and I finally relent.

--

I park the car along the street in the line of cars already present when we arrive. Jenn gets to work at pulling Nathan out of his car seat, as I make sure my leg is situated for the walk. Jenn carries him across the street, but Nathan wants to walk on his own, so moves while holding his mother's pantleg into the cemetery. There is a collection of officers in uniform for the ceremony, along with several familiar faces gathered near the entrance by a large oak tree.

The Kaiser is standing next to Abigail, holding his young daughter that was born the day after Nathan was killed. Midge is off to the side smoking away from everyone, but still engaged in conversation from the distance. She sees us first and gives a wave. The retired Captain Queen is here, disheveled as always, talking with Nathan's wife and daughter who I avert my gaze from. Derek and Jill are with their daughters in matching dresses. I even see Special Agent Shelby, sharing a cigarette with Midge.

"Since when do you smoke?" I ask Midge who blows it out to the side before flicking the burning cherry off.

"I got a daughter in college and a toddler. You try not starting," she says and places the butt into an empty pack to avoid littering. She returns the pack to her pocket and looks down at Nathan.

"Look at this quarter Asian pimp," Midge says, crouching down to his level. "That's a sick coat little dude." Nathan looks up at Jenn, then back toward Midge. "I'm Midge. You probably don't remember me. You were real little last time we met. I got my own little guy not much older than you."