If You'll Believe In Me

"Know what?" I ask.

"Today he's going to announce his candidacy for mayor," Jill says, and my jaw hits the floor. "Oh yeah. He's going to end his brief with that today. He already filed the paperwork, it's official."

"He's got my vote," I say. Not just because he's my chief or she's my friend. It's because he...I don't know what his platform is. I guess for now his platform is I'm not these two. That is more than enough.

"I imagine he safely has the police vote. His approval rating is ninety-three percent with the union," Jill says. Sounds like she has already crunched some numbers on his odds. The police union is only a few hundred people, but it's a good line for a campaign ad.

At this time, all clear. I repeat, all clear.

Jill tells me she will be forwarding the discs to the FBI, and that she'll have a preliminary report in a few hours regarding the contents. I get surprisingly good reception in the basement, so call Chase as I'm boarding the elevator. It rings all the way through and goes to voicemail.

"Chase, answer your phone. Silverlake is telling the truth. Call me back," I say and send him a text as well. They might still be outside of the building because of the lockdown just being lifted. When I step off the first floor to walk toward where Silverlake is being held, I see a cordon blocking the hallway.

"What the fuck?" I ask, and an officer holds his hand up to block my path. "Homicide, move."

"She's with me," I hear Lieutenant Ito shout from down the hall. I step around the officer and join her at the interview rooms. Blood had slithered down the wall and pooled in the hall.

"What going on?" I ask.

"Alice," Lieutenant Ito, and gestures to the room Silverlake was in. I peek inside, and he is lying in a puddle of his blood. The back wall is splattered red with brains. His hand is stretched out around the table with a bullet hole through it. Like he saw it coming and raised his hands to catch the slug.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I say.

"She turned herself in for the murder of Saul. When Jeff was escorting her, she escaped her restraints, stole his gun, shot him, and then assassinated Silverlake. Took less than five seconds," Lieutenant Ito explained. "Jeff is already in route to the hospital. You're off this case, effective immediately. I'm putting Kaiser on it."

As much as it pisses me off, I understand. I'm pregnant, I know what that means, and I know the level of risk the department is willing to take. We just vaulted over that line of risk. I won't fight this one.

"Yes ma'am," I say, and she is surprised on my lack of pushback. "What the fuck is taking Chase so long?"

"FBI...Lieutenant!" we hear Special Agent Shelby shout from the line of officers. Lieutenant Ito waves his through and he sees the room. "What happened?"

"Alice happened," Lieutenant Ito says. "Where's Chase?"

"Getting a new pair of pants. While grabbing a case file at Silverlake's office, Chase sat on a chair rigged to explode," Shelby says, and Lieutenant Ito gasps in her throat. Her boyfriend was nearly blown up. "He's shaken, but he's alive."

"Thank God," Lieutenant Ito says. "Alice surrendered immediately, so she was taken alive. Smiling the whole time seemingly satisfied with herself. Can we get some resources to get her out of here before the next bomb goes off?"

"We'll take her," Shelby says, and excuses himself to start making some calls.

"Brief Will, and then go home," Lieutenant Ito orders.

I take one final look at Silverlake, and then walk back to the elevators.

--

Friday -- October 16, 2026

-Chase Kramner-

My legs are still rubber when I arrive at my apartment. I strip naked in the bathroom and smell my pants from a safe distance. At least I can confidently say I did not soil myself. Rinsing off in the shower rejuvenates my muscles. When I leave the bathroom with my waist wrapped in a towel, it's the first time in hours my legs feel firm again.

Time to feel safe and comfortable in exercise shorts and my Dartmouth sweater. The couch is cozy, and I wrap myself in a blanket like a baby in a womb. I wonder if it's on the news already. I turn on the television and find the Chief's briefing on a local station's YouTube channel.

Chief Whitaker has no good answers to what happened today. We managed to smother the bomb story for the time being, but that will not stay buried for long. I had messages from Midge. One saying Silverlake was telling the truth, and then another saying he was dead. Silverlake's death hit the press fast. The situation made Chief Whitaker's transition during his briefing awkward when someone in the press pool asked him if it was true that he filed candidacy forms for mayor this morning.

"It's true. I did this morning, and I was going to withhold announcing that considering recent events. It would have been inappropriate and cast a shadow of distraction over more pressing matters. Because it was asked, I will answer. Yes, I am a candidate for Mayor."

Holy shit. So much for Chief 'I'm not a politician' Whitaker.

Atticus jumps onto my lap and begins trying to headbutt my chin for attention.

"Missed you too," I say.

I jump when my door swings open and Jenn comes barreling into the apartment. Atticus flinches, and then jumps off my lap to greet her. She pauses for a moment to pet him, but quickly walks across the living room and dives onto me. We struggle to move the blanket out of the way, but in seconds she straddles me so we can embrace fully. She knows what happened, and it seems like it scared her as much as it scared me. I've been stabbed and shot, but today was the nearest I have come to death.

"I had to hold my shit together all day," Jenn cries into my shoulder.

"I couldn't hold my shit together at all," I admit, and she kisses me.

"I know I said six months, but I'm so ready right now," she says, then kisses me again. Whoa. "Let's do it right now."

"Do you want to take a day. Let the feeling of almost dying pass, then make a decision," I say, and she ignores me. "Jenn, cool the jets before we start making a crisis baby."

"I thought you'd be all over this," Jenn says. I sucked the mood out of the room.

"Our baby will always remind us that a bomb made that decision, not us," I say, and she puts her forehead to mine.

"I'm not going to lie, I'm scared," she says. "But you just said our baby, and my heart skipped."

"Really?" I ask, and she grabs by hand and presses it to her chest. Her heartbeat is going crazy. "Our baby." Faster.

"Say that again," she says and kisses me. Her mouth leaves mine, and I nibble her ear.

"Our baby." I feel her gasp.

"This isn't crisis, this is me," she says into my ear. "Let's make a baby."

Jenn is impatient, forcing us to start on the couch. She starts unbuttoning her blouse as I begin to undo her belt her gun is still holstered on. I slide it off and place it on the coffee table as she pulls her shirt off her arms. She stands up long enough to slide her pants and panties off. While she is off me, I shimmy out of my shorts. She licks her fingers for moisture and climbs on top of me.

I cannot describe why this was different. It just was. Sex is fun, and I enjoy it as much as the next guy. But this was an elevation of the activity. The act suddenly had a purpose it never had for me in the past.

The scenario is almost ruined when I feel Atticus sit on my foot. I try to shoo him off, but after a minute I decide we need to take this to the bedroom. Trying to hold the mood together, I lift her off the couch, my dick still inside her, and carry her to the bedroom. I close the door behind me and can hear him pawing at the door.

I fall with her onto the bed, and we resume.

Because of the heightened emotional aspect, I orgasm much sooner than I wanted to, but it did not bother her.

"Keep going. You lose it, we'll just have another round," she says jovially. This is the most fun I have ever had with sex. It was intimate, but we spent more time laughing than moaning. It took time, but she is no longer embarrassed to orgasm cry in front of me. I hope that doesn't create a conditioned response where seeing her cry gives me a boner in a different context.

We continue our healthy habit of productive pillow talk. If today had a theme, it was helplessness. Today was just shit. I don't think nearly dying was the worst part. It was that I was powerless to do anything about it. By the end, I could not even stand up once the danger was over. Jenn had the largest case in her career ripped from her hands. The parts she could control, were killed on her watch. She was waiting to hear about that from Chief Whitaker. He doesn't have a history of scapegoating, but then again, we don't have a history of having suspects assassinated while in custody. During a political campaign.

"I'm serious by the way," Jenn says. She is laying directly on top me with her chin resting on the top of her hands on my chest. "That wasn't practicing."

"What's inspired the rush?" I ask.

"I never really planned on waiting the full six months. I can get a feel on most people fast. Two months is plenty of time for me. Honeymoon phase is over, and we shit with the door open," she says with a giggle. "Already hard enough for women my age to find a guy my age who wants kids, let alone a younger guy. I'm locking that down."

Jenn has never told me her age. I have never asked. She just gave something away, and she is smiling, as if she is daring me to solve the mystery.

"I'm dating an older woman?" I ask, and she nods.

"Change your perspective?" she asks. With that body, she could be fifty and I wouldn't care. I shake my head. "Thirty-six. Thirty-seven next month. Twelfth by the way, I like orchids, you've been told."

"Orchids, twelfth, got it," I say, and she leans up to kiss me.

"Don't forget."

--

Saturday -- October 17, 2026

-Jennifer Ito-

I have officially made the decision that Chase is the man I want to be with. Even the fact we've only been going out a few months isn't rearing up its ugly head to warn me. Perhaps in the future we'll wish we went a little slower, but I don't think our regrets will be overbearing.

Ever since my divorce five years ago, I have become acutely perceptive of undesirable male qualities. Dominic wasn't abusive in the physical sense, but he was abusive. I was ugly when I cried. In the span of a week I was too fat and too skinny. He had a sixth sense on how to assault my self-esteem. If I tried to leave, he said I would never meet anyone better, and I believed him, even after he cheated on me on a regular basis. It took seven tries, over two years, but I finally left him. The hardest thing about that first year was ignoring the phone calls. I could not give him an avenue to come back.

My life was surreal. At home I was this meek subordinate wife who let her husband treat her like shit. At work, I was a confident and decisive investigator. Having two opposing lives was taxing. Sometimes I would sit in my car for an hour before I would go inside. Just so I could be the version of myself I liked a little bit longer every day.

When I started to date again, I did so with a check list of red flags. They were weirded out by the fact I cry when I orgasm. Instead of telling me something, they'll try to spare my feelings, which is patronizing, which means they don't respect me.

Chase didn't raise those red flags. He said I was beautiful in my most vulnerable state. He's so honest I almost wish he wouldn't be. Granted he has annoyed me at work with this case. However, he wasn't doing it maliciously, but out of passion. I can work with that.

Because I have decided Chase is the one, there is something I need to disclose to him. He needs to know I arranged for him to be the source of Summer Pillsbury's article by proxy. He deserves the truth about my history as a news source. Chase is not a fan of the media when it comes to their reporting on the police, so I am worried about what he will do with this information. Is this the best time to burden him with this?

Unfortunately, Chase can sense when I am holding something back. If I deny anything is wrong, he knows I'm full of shit. He likes my directness, so when I'm evasive, it stands out like a sore thumb.

"What's up?" Chase asks coffee while the Keurig pours coffee into his cup. I am slowly stirring the cream in my cup as if it delays the conversation. "Jenn?"

"Huh?" I ask.

"What's up? This about last night? If that was just sex talk, I'm fine with that," Chase says, and I laugh a little. He is giving me the space to maneuver out of a major life choice. I appreciate that.

"No, last night was fine, and I was serious. I'm still serious. I'm still in if you are," I say.

"Then what's up?" he asks.

"I have something to tell you. It's a big deal, and I'm worried," I begin. His coffee finishes pouring, but he ignores it to focus on me. "I'm worried that you take it the wrong way, and...I don't know. I'm just worried."

"You're Summer Pillsbury's source," Chase says, and I gasp without making noise. "You know I hate the media, and you're worried that if I found out, I'd think our relationship was founded so you could get her a story."

How the hell did he discover that? He senses I am asking that to myself.

"Horseshoe Diner. Every time Joshua Winters wanted to interview me, he always said he'd be discreet, and we could meet there. Winters used to work for the Tribune, and I know he's Pillsbury's mentor. One of them was there that day, right?" he asks, and I slowly nod while avoiding his eyes.

"How long have you known?" I ask.

"I never knew for sure. I only had a suspicion, and I did wonder about the timing," he says. "It just never felt like it was a reason we happened."

"It wasn't," I say. He is not requiring I explain myself, but I feel like I need to. "I liked you because you were brave, and you were honest. You had your doubts if you could stay on the force, but you overcame them. What I also liked was your adherence to the rules not being a blind faith. You'll arrest Texada, but not turn in Dolly, who I know tried covering it up. You did that because gray does exist, and mistakes need to be taken in their context. You understand that, even if people think you're a boy scout who sees the world as a binary."

"Thank you for telling me," Chase says, and takes his coffee off the Keurig. That was a test. Holy shit, he just tested me. When I told him this, he'd know I was serious about us. He didn't get offended and paranoid. He believed my feelings were sincere, and that I would eventually tell him on my terms when I was ready. Chase trusts me. Having an intimate partner trust me is so foreign.

"I love you," I say, and he smiles while raising his coffee to his lips.

"I love you too," he says, and takes his sip. He loves me before he drinks his coffee.

My phone rings, and I pull it off my belt.

"Chief," I say so he knows, and then answer. "Morning Chief."

"Morning Lieutenant, your trial by fire continues," he says. Chief Whitaker has been saying that a lot recently. Lieutenant for a second and I'm dealing with assassins and the Russian Mafia.

"What now?"

"Prisoner transport. Judge approved special condition of pre-trial for Alice. Meaning, no more bail. We're officially handing her off to the FBI, and wiping our hands clean of this mess," he says. "None of which is your fault, just really shitty luck."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence sir," I say.

"Last thing. Coordinate, plan, and execute this exchange. Sergeant White is already spinning up his team, and Special Agent Shelby is finding a vehicle," he says, and I let him know I'll give both a call and hang up.

"We're moving Alice," I say, placing my phone back on my belt. "You'll probably get a call to supervise the transport team with Shelby soon." His phone rings.

"Kramner," he says, and I watch him listen for a moment. "On my way."

"Be careful," I say, and we leave the apartment together.

--

Saturday -- October 17, 2026

-Chase Kramner-

Ensure the weapon is empty, point in a safe direction, and rack the slide a few times. Insert an empty magazine and pull the slide until it catches. Drop the magazine and release the slide forward by pressing the catch lever. Decock the firearm with the decocking lever. Squeeze thee trigger to test double action, and keep the trigger held as you rack the slide. Release the trigger, listening for a metallic click. Squeeze the trigger again to test single action. Pull the slide back a quarter of the way and squeeze the trigger, and feel no resistance, ensuring the trigger bar disconnect is functional. Functions check complete, and I reload a magazine.

Nathan makes sure everyone is vested up for the prisoner transport. He steps to my side and slaps my back and stomach at the same time to check my plates. He does the same to The Kaiser and then asks me to do it to him as well.

The FBI managed to acquire a vehicle on loan from the US Marshals to secure Alice. Usually we would just get a normal squad car, but Alice has proven herself to be far too dangerous.

Nathan briefs a rehearsal with the personnel involved. From what I can see the transport team is Nathan, Special Agent Shelby, The Kaiser, and myself. Nathan, Shelby, and I are in vehicle one, and The Kaiser is following in a second vehicle because we're dropping the transport off to the Marshalls after the mission. He briefs the route we're taking, and alternative routes. Emergency stops for vehicle malfunction. What our phase lines are.

"Let me be perfectly clear, so the dick waving is minimized. I am the convoy commander," Nathan says, and everyone nods to him. "Until that prisoner is handed off, what I say goes. I get it, we're all chiefs, but stay off my dick."

"You won't feel any dick stomping from me," Shelby says, and asks to go over the route again. Three-hour drive to the prison with no stops. From there, Shelby officially places Alice under FBI custody. After that, she is out of our hair.

"Sergeant," one of the SWAT guys says to Nathan. "Checks and services complete on the vehicle, and it's all fueled up. Everything is ready on your go."

"You guys ready?" Nathan asks us, and we all say we are. "Let's roll."

Alice is escorted out of the building in restraints, and then placed into a secure van with a cage and a steel plate welded in the center. She is fastened directly to the plate, and the cage is locked with her in it. I signed some forms that assign custody of the suspect directly to Nathan, and he signs the confirmation and acknowledgement of responsibilities.

"Saddle up," Nathan says, and we climb into the vehicle. I am driving, and Nathan is riding shotgun. Shelby is in the back staring at Alice. "Comms check. Vehicle two?"

"Vehicle two, good copy," The Kaiser's voice says.

"Dispatch, transport is departing HQ," Nathan says, and gestures for me to start driving.

"Transport, good copy. Safe travels," dispatch says back.

--

The first thirty minutes of the drive is trying to navigate out of the city. Once out, the traffic thins, and we have more space to maneuver. The route makes all efforts to avoid local areas and side roads. Staying on the highway decreases chance of ambush.

One hour into the drive we are clear out of the metropolitan area and the highway is flanked on both sides by high vegetation with a grassy median between directions of traffic. The weekend is decreasing the number of cars on the road, and within another half hour I can count full minutes until I see another car.

We drive past two local squad cars on the shoulder, and I watch them through the rear-view mirror for a moment before looking straight again. I look around and notice this is the emptiest the road has been the entire drive. The opposite direction of traffic is now entirely vacant. I follow the curve of the road and see a semi-truck pulled to the shoulder with emergency flashers on. At the far end of the next curve in the road, I see another two squad cars blocking traffic on the opposite side some distance away.