Chapter Text
Lucy glances over her shoulder at the man on the ground. Frank Cho, age 37. Asian, bleached blonde hair, brown eyes. 5’8’’, 200lbs. Emergency contact: sister, Rebecca Webber. She’s on the mainland.
FBI Agent.
Bleeding out.
“Now, tell us who he works for, and you won’t walk out of here with a hole in your kneecap.”
She smiles crookedly, feeling shaky despite the smirk on her face. “A bullet to the knee would kind of prevent me from walking.”
The man in front of her, hair slicked back off his face and held away from it with a red bandana, adjusts his grip on the gun he’s holding. It’s pointed lazily in her direction, the barrel’s aim moving from her feet up to her shoulders as he looks her over.
“She’s got a point, Mateo.”
Mateo Kāno’s eyes cut to the hulking man next to him and he glares. Lucy starts to catalog everything she’s seeing. Mateo looks just like the picture Lucy saw earlier - tall, probably around 5’9’’, with a small scar above his eye that cuts through his eyebrow, dark hair, leather jacket with a patch on the arm that has a blue background and a palm tree on it. The man on his right is bigger in every way, taller and wider. He’s in a tight white t-shirt that comes down over a tattoo of a pinup girl with a red skirt, Lelani inked just below it. The guy on the left is thin and reedy, nervous-looking as he flicks a lighter on and off. She tries to find some identifying mark, something that stands out, but he looks like the kind of guy she would lose in a crowd pretty easily.
“Listen.” Lucy carefully shifts her hand to her back pocket, feeling for her phone. “This guy needs medical attention.”
“What he needs is to learn to shut his mouth.” Mateo shrugs and his gun wavers again. “I was just helping him out.”
She slides her hands into her back pocket and tries to feel for the side button so she can hold it down and place an emergency call. She keeps her movements small, trying not to tip Mateo off. “He’s going to bleed out.”
Mateo looks at the two guys he’s with and scoffs. “He’d be doing us a favor. See.” Mateo takes a step closer to her. “He’s what we call a snitch. And here you are, coming to his defense.” Mateo holds the gun more firmly now, the barrel pointed directly at her chest. “So guess what that means for you?”
-
8 Hours Ago
“Tell me what we’ve got.”
Lucy picks up the remote, aiming it at the monitor. “Ron MacDonough. He’s an Information Systems Technician on the USS Bowfin. He was found yesterday morning in his home by a guy in his unit after failing to report for duty two days ago. Cause of death was gunshot wounds to the shoulder, leg, and chest.”
Tennant looks at the morgue photo of Ron MacDonough before she steps forward and points at the screen. “What do we know about that?”
“It’s a recent tattoo,” Jesse chimes in. “His CO said he went for an appointment last week, but MacDonough didn’t say what he was getting. They said he kept things pretty private, but he mentioned something about an insignia or a crest.”
“But it’s not an Information Systems Technician insignia.” Kai holds up a picture of a patch resembling four lightning bolts running side to side. “So we ran it through the database.”
Lucy presses a button on the remote and the screen changes to the next slide. “What it is, is the local emblem of the Palakiko family, a crime syndicate here on the island.”
“The Palakiko family is well-connected with local crime.” Tennant turns to them. “And they have their hands in a few pockets, too. Some HPD officers have been accused of looking the other direction.”
“FBI says the tattoo most likely resembles one that members of the Kāno branch of the Palakiko family wears.”
Lucy turns at the voice behind her. Whistler is in the doorway, hair pulled back and her hands in the pockets of her dress pants, that shiny badge clipped to her belt right next to the gun she wears on her hip. Lucy always thought Whistler was attractive, objectively speaking. But there’s something about the way she holds herself now that makes Lucy’s stomach do a somersault.
Not that Lucy is giving into that feeling anymore. They’re friends now. They share friendly smiles, friendly drinks with the rest of the team after long cases, and friendly little snarky comments over case files. ‘Friends’ is good. ‘Friends’ is great.
“Sorry. Tennant told me to just come on up.”
Tennant nods. “The FBI has been involved in the Palakiko crime organization for a while now.”
Whistler steps further into the room, hesitating for a moment before she slips up next to Jesse. “We’ve been running surveillance on them for a few years, but we haven’t been able to find any one thing that implicates them in any sort of crime. Everything has been heresay. But recently, there’s been an uptick in activity. And it’s all centered around the Kāno family.”
“The Kāno family.” Jesse takes a picture that Whistler hands him, looking it over before he offers it to Lucy.
She looks down at the image. It’s grainy, but the people in it are visible. There’s an older man with graying, slicked back hair sitting at a small table, a cigar in his mouth. Next to him is another man with grey hair, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a wide-brimmed hat. Behind them is a younger man in a leather jacket. There’s a shadow on his forehead, something she can’t make out. A few men are scattered around the table, some eating and some drinking. In the corner, a thin man is looking across the group.
“They’re relatively low on the food chain. Tony Kāno is the one with the cigar.” Whistler leans against the table, hands back in her pockets. “His son, Mateo, is in the jacket. They report to Antonio Ramirez, a capo in the crime syndicate. He’s the one in the hat.”
Lucy holds up the photo. “And the rest of them?”
“Soldiers.” Whistler gives Lucy a quick smile. “They handle the dirty work, on Mateo’s say-so. He’s caught Ramirez’s eye recently and they’re paying a lot of attention to him.”
Tennant gestures at the monitor. “Which brings us back to our dead sailor.”
Whistler nods. “Our sources say that Mateo has been…recruiting.”
“You have sources confirming that?” Tennant asks.
“We’ve placed an agent within the family in the last few months. Frank Cho. His alias is Scotty Tanaka.” Whistler hands over another picture.
Lucy studies it. “He went deep undercover, huh?” She taps the headshot. Agent Cho bleached his hair blonde for this assignment and it doesn’t look… awful. Maybe a little like he’s trying too hard, but Lucy can see how he’d fit in with some of the tourists-turned-locals on the island.
Whistler ignores her but her mouth twitches in a little bit of a smile. She stays focused on Tennant. “When he last got in touch with their handler, they stated that Mateo was gathering intel on weapons shipments and striking up friendships with sailors to get access to those weapons.”
“Unattached sailors.” Whistler looks to Lucy, holding out a hand for the remote. Lucy passes it over wordlessly. “I had Ernie put this together.” She clicks twice, moving through two slides, each a headshot and morgue photo of a different man. “Both of these sailors have been found over the last year, each without family on the island, no relationships, and all with the Kāno family crest tattooed somewhere on their bodies.”
Tennant turns to them. “How did we miss this?”
Lucy takes the remote back and goes back through the slides, looking them over. “We didn’t.” She points. “HPD investigated this first one.” Another click to the second slide. “And Hernandez’s name is on this case.”
“So we’ve got three sailors now, all with the same tattoo, all dead.”
“All killed with a semi-automatic pistol. 9mm slugs.” Whistler nods. “Each sailor had fatal wounds to their shoulder, leg, and chest.”
“A call sign.” Jesse shrugs. “Could indicate that the killer is the same person in each murder.”
“Might be,” Whistler agrees. “It matches one of the alleged hitmen from the Hanalē family. But-”
“We don’t know that for sure.” Tennant finishes. She turns to face Whistler. “What's the FBI's next steps?”
“We’re going to get back in contact with our agent, see if he heard anything about Kāno and your vic. We’ll start with them before we branch out to the Hanalēs. We don’t know why someone from the Hanalē camp would go after one of the Kāno family. Possibly a turf war? Until then, the Director is telling us to hold still.”
Tennant eyes her coolly. “I have a murder to solve.”
“And the FBI is willing to let you solve that murder, as long as it doesn’t compromise our operation.”
Lucy arches a brow in Jesse’s direction. Tennant doesn’t take too kindly to being told how she’s allowed to do her job. Whistler knows that. But Lucy has to give her some credit; she doesn’t even seem to flinch when she says it. Tennant doesn’t either. She smiles tightly and turns back at Lucy, Jesse, and Kai.
“Jesse, you and Kai head back to the scene. I want you to look at it from another angle. This is a guy who had no connections on the island. See if anything personal jumps out at you.” She turns to Lucy. “I want you to head over to interview his CO. Get a feel for MacDonough’s state of mind over the last few weeks. Was he happier? Secretive? Find out who he talked to, if he talked to anyone.”
Lucy nods and turns the monitor off, putting the remote down as she listens to Jesse and Kai bicker about what kind of music they’re going to play on the ride. She turns around and jumps a little, surprised to see Whistler still standing there.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Whistler gives her a slight smile.
“You definitely didn’t,” Lucy lies. “I was expecting you.”
“Oh?” Whistler looks amused. “Well, in that case, do you know what I was going to say?”
Lucy taps her finger against her chin. “Hmm. Something about how amazing I am?”
The word seems to do something to Whistler’s face. Changes it, somehow. The air between them feels a little different. It makes things feel different. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met still bounces around Lucy’s head when she’s lying in bed and can’t fall asleep.
“Actually.” Whistler’s hands flutter in front of her. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to grab a drink later. I got my first review this morning and it was a good one.”
“I bet it was more than good.”
Whistler’s cheeks flush. “Just as friends, of course. Two friends, getting a drink.”
It’s a tricky area to navigate, Lucy admits. But she’s trying. She knows Whistler is trying, too.
“Sure,” she says after a few seconds. “We should celebrate your more-than-good review.”
Whistler’s smile widens slightly. “It was a little more than good.”
“Knew it.” Lucy grins. “But I’ve got to get going.”
Whistler steps aside quickly. “Of course. I need to check in with my bosses. They’re a little nervous about you investigating this death. Our agent’s cover isn’t deep-rooted yet. The Kāno family can be secretive and untrusting.”
“I think that’s Mob 101, right?” Lucy starts her way towards the stairs, looking back over her shoulder as Whistler follows. “No one outside of the family?”
“We’re hoping to get an ‘in’ soon.” Whistler stops at the bottom of the stairs. “Tennant isn’t happy with me, is she?”
“She knows it’s your bosses’ orders, not yours.” Lucy looks across the bullpen to Tennant’s office. “But she’s handled worse interoffice stonewalling. And we’ve solved murders with less help. So either way, we’ll get the job done.”
Whistler smiles a little. “You always do.”
“That’s because we’re the best.” Lucy winks and turns on her heel, listening to Whistler scoff slightly behind her. She doesn’t turn around or look back, smiling to herself a little bit. She always enjoys it when she gets the last word in. Getting it in over Whistler, specifically, is just an added bonus.
But she doesn’t think about it for too long. She has a CO to interview and a murder to solve.
And drinks tonight. With a friend.
-
Lucy sighs as she gets back in the car. The CO didn’t give her much to go off of. MacDonough was a quiet guy who came into work, put his head down, and got things done. He didn’t show any signs of having new friends, coming into money, or bring any suspicion on himself. In fact, he was due for a commendation and was going to receive it next week.
“He was a lonely guy,” she tells Tennant over the car’s bluetooth phone. “The CO couldn’t identify anyone in the unit who he was friendly with outside of work. But he excelled at his job. Knew it inside and out. They had no reason to think he might be using any of their systems to track and delay weapon packages.”
Tennant is quiet for a second. “Jesse and Kai are on their way back. They might have more insight into his personal life.”
“His CO did say that he mentioned getting the tattoo on his day off, but no one seemed interested to know what it was.”
“So what made him a good candidate for the Kāno family?”
Lucy taps the steering wheel. “Unless Jesse and Kai come up with some kind of big lead into any relationships he might have had, I think they could have just capitalized on his loneliness? People will do a lot of things once they have friends or some kind of support system.”
“Good thinking, Lucy.” Tennant shuffles something. “When you get here, we’ll lay out what we know.”
“Oh, hey!” Lucy calls, hoping she gets the words in before Tennant hangs up. “I got a call back from Whistler’s FBI contact, Frank Cho’s handler. He said it’s been a few days since Cho checked in. Not unusual, really, but after MacDonough’s death, he expected a call at least.”
“Does he think Cho might have been made?”
Lucy puts on her blinker, stopped at a light. “He didn’t seem to think so, but the radio silence was starting to spook him, I could tell. He gave me a list of places Cho would frequent with the Kānos, and I was thinking I could do a quick drive by to see if he’s around. Just to put eyes on him. Might be nothing. It’s been a few days since MacDonough’s death.”
Tennant is quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure about that Lucy.”
“I’ll stay in the car,” Lucy promises. “Just a quick drive by. He gave me a description of Cho’s bike. If he’s there, I’ll call in to his handler and let him know. If he’s not, he’s not.”
“Drive by only ,” Tennant stresses. “No stopping, no getting out of the car.”
Lucy grins and then quickly sobers, almost as if Tennant is in the car with her. “No getting out of the car. Got it.”
“Don’t hang around too long. We need you back here.” Tennant hangs up with a click, and Lucy makes a u-turn at the next light, turning herself around.
Lucy turns the radio back on, listening to the long line of commercials. She’s noticed that Tennant keeps letting her stretch her investigative wings lately. And that feels good. Scary, still, because sometimes she’s worried she’s not going to ask the right questions or get the right information. But then she remembers that Tennant wouldn’t send her out on her own if she didn’t think she could handle it. And that makes her feel good. It makes her feel like all her hard work is really paying off. She’s getting noticed, getting rewarded for doing things well.
She starts to head towards the Mexican restaurant Cho’s handler said the Kānos frequent. She knows the place, has had their food once or twice. She doesn’t remember seeing tons of motorcycles or any suspicious-looking people, but not every mobster dresses like they’re walking out of The Godfather .
She slows down as she sees the restaurant in the distance, a bright neon sign burning in the setting sun over the empty road. She’ll just do a drive by, check for his bike in the parking lot, and then check out the next place, a bar nearby. No getting out of the car, no stopping. Just a quick pass to see if-
Thud .
Lucy slams on her brakes, nearly crashing into her steering wheel. She blinks, dazed for a minute as she tries to process what happened. With shaky hands, she unbuckles her seatbelt and starts to open the car door. Her hand goes to her side, touching her sidearm hidden under her shirt. She doesn’t unholster it, too focused on whatever she hit to think about drawing it.
She rounds the car and stares, eyes wide. A man lays on the ground face up as he clutches his side, face twisted in pain. She drops to her knees next to him, hands fluttering nervously as he groans. His hands slip off his side, and she can see the entry wound, bleeding heavily.
“Get up,” a gruff voice says above her.
Lucy looks up and into the barrel of a gun, pointed right at her forehead.
“I said, get up .”
Lucy stands on shaky legs, trying to hide the quiver of fear that races through her. She steps forward a little, angling herself between the man and the gun pointed at them. She glances over her shoulder at the man on the ground, and it comes together: Frank Cho, age 37. Asian, bleached blonde hair, brown eyes. 5’8’’, 200lbs. Emergency contact: sister, Rebecca Webber. She’s on the mainland.
FBI Agent.
Bleeding out.
“Now, tell us who he works for and you won’t walk out of here with a hole in your kneecap.”
She smiles crookedly, feeling shaky despite the smirk on her face. “A bullet to the knee would kind of prevent me from walking.”
The man in front of her, hair slicked back off his face and held away from it with a red bandana, adjusts his grip on the gun he’s holding. It’s pointed lazily in her direction now, the barrel’s aim moving from her feet up to her shoulders as he looks her over.
“She’s got a point, Mateo.”
“Listen.” Lucy carefully shifts her hand to her back pocket, feeling for her phone. “This guy needs medical attention.”
“What he needs is to learn to shut his mouth.” Mateo shrugs and his gun wavers again. “I was just helping him out.”
She slides her hands into her back pocket and tries to feel for the side button so she can hold it down and place an emergency call. She keeps her movements small, trying not to tip Mateo off. “He’s going to bleed out.”
Mateo looks at the two guys he’s with and scoffs. “He’d be doing us a favor. See.” Mateo takes a step closer to her. “He’s what we call a snitch. And here you are, coming to his defense.” Mateo holds the gun more firmly now, the barrel pointed directly at her chest. “So guess what that means for you?”
Lucy racks her brain, trying to think of what to do next. What would Tennant do , she says over and over. Tennant would protect the asset. Tennant would find a way out of this. Lucy lets her hand fall from her back pocket. Tennant wouldn’t put this man in danger any more than he already is.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but this guy is going to die.”
Mateo shrugs. “What’s it to me?”
Okay, that isn’t going to work , she thinks. “You want a man’s death on your hands? What would that do for you? Listen, I’ll take the heat for this. I won’t get you involved. Just let me get him to a doctor.”
Mateo pauses for a second. The barrel of his gun dips again towards Cho. “Why would we do that?”
“I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are.” Lucy tries to play it off casually, like her heart isn’t hammering a hundred miles a minute in her chest; like she isn’t standing with a gun aimed at her and an FBI agent bleeding out on the ground behind her. “And you don’t need this,” she continues. “If you let me take him to a doctor, I’ll clean all of this up.”
“You’ll take care of this, huh?” Mateo looks at the other two men and barks out a short laugh.
“All of it. Just let me get him to a doctor.”
Mateo shakes his head. “What’re you going to do? Take him to the ER? No, I don’t think so.”
Lucy thinks and thinks and swallows hard. Her mind is racing and it’s hard to grab a thought. No, she can’t take him to an ER, they’d never go for that. She tries to go through a list of people she knows. If she takes him to Tennant, that’s still not medical attention. And there’s no guarantee they won’t follow her there. She can’t bring him to the FBI - still no medical attention. But Commander Chase…
“I know a doctor. Off the grid.” This could work. “Nothing goes through public channels. No reports of a gunshot victim, no follow up by the cops.”
Mateo is silent for a long second. Lucy risks a look down at Cho, still groaning on the ground as the pavement starts to grow wetter and wetter from the blood leaking out under him. “Fine,” Mateo says. “But we’re going to be right behind you. Joey, get him in the car.”
Joey, the guy with the Lelani tattoo, grunts and pulls open her backseat door. Lucy panics for a second, but this isn’t her car. There’s nothing in there that has her name on it. She’s wearing her badge and her gun but they’re both tucked under her shirt. The backseat is empty and clean. She winces. It won’t be after this.
Cho gasps when Joey picks him up, dragging him over to the backseat, his feet on the ground. He heaves Cho into the car, pushing his legs inside the vehicle before he shuts the door.
Mateo nods in her direction. “Any funny business and you’ll end up in the same place he’s going.”
Lucy doesn’t hesitate, rounding the front of the car and hopping into the driver’s seat. She looks in her rearview mirror. Cho is pale and sweaty. Mateo and his friends are already on their bikes and the sound of engines drown out the radio still playing and the ‘door open’ sensor beeping. She slams the door shut and doesn’t wait to put her seatbelt on before she’s shifting it into drive and taking off.
She jabs at the call button on the steering wheel. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she mutters. She looks back at Cho. “Hold on, okay? I’m figuring this out.” The phone rings again and Lucy hangs up, quickly pushing the call button again.
“Lucy.”
Lucy sighs. “Tennant. Thank god.”
“What’s the matter?” Tennant asks, voice shifting. Lucy knows this voice. The ‘we’ll fix it’ voice.
“I found Cho. He’s in my car. Mateo Kāno shot him. And they’re following me.”
There’s a short pause. “Okay, stay calm.”
Lucy shakes her head. “He’s bleeding out in my car. They’re never going to get this blood out.”
“Lucy,” Tennant says sharply. “I need you to focus. Where are you going right now?”
Lucy looks in her sideview mirror. Two motorcycles on her left. One on her right. “I don’t know. I told them I knew a place I could bring him where the authorities wouldn’t get involved. A doctor off the grid. Someone we can trust. Like Com-”
“Commander Chase,” Tennant finishes. Lucy can hear her talking to someone else, but can’t make out the words. “Lucy, listen to me. How much time do you think you have with Cho?”
Lucy turns, looking at him. He’s still pale, eyes fluttering closed. “Not long.”
“Here’s what you’re going to do, okay?” Tennant’s voice is calm as Lucy feels her hands shaking. “Jesse is going to pick up Commander Chase right now. He’s already leaving. There’s a safe house nearby and he’s going to take her there. I want you to meet her there and hand over Agent Cho. We’ll have a team inside to get him to where he needs to be.”
“Okay. Okay, yeah.” Lucy feels her shoulders start to drop, relief slowly bleeding through her. Another tendril of panic races through her. “They know my face.”
“You’re not going to go home. There’s a motel the FBI uses for assets. We have people at the desk. Give them the name Van Lew.” Tennant lowers her voice, as if she can sense Lucy’s panic rising. “You’ll stay there for the night while we figure things out, okay? I want you to leave all your information with Chase, anything that identifies you. Badge, license. Don’t hold onto any of it. Your only job right now is to get Cho to safety, then yourself.”
Her phone beeps and Lucy grabs it, checking the address Tennant just gave her. She punches it into her GPS and pushes the gas pedal down just a little more.
“Hold on, Cho. We’re almost there, okay?” He groans lightly from the backseat. “We’re going to get you patched up and home by the end of the night.”
“Keep talking to him,” Tennant tells her. “How far away are you?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Jesse should be there by then. It’s not far.” Tennant is quiet for a second. “Are you okay, Lucy?”
Lucy swallows hard. She’s freaked out. No, she’s terrified. A motorcycle revs behind her and moves closer to the rear of her vehicle. Lucy takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m…”
“I know,” Tennant says softly. “But you’re doing great so far. You found a missing asset and you’re going to get him to safety. Just focus on what you can do, not what you can’t. Jesse is two minutes out. He’s got Kai and Chase with him. They’re going to make sure he gets the help he needs.”
Tennant stays on the line as Lucy presses harder on the gas pedal. It's enough for the moment, just to know that Tennant is there and she’s listening as Lucy alternates between keeping her eyes on the road and looking back at Cho. She checks her sideview mirrors again and notices that the motorcycles have shifted, one trailing behind the rest.
Her GPS says she’s a mile away and the location is on her right. Lucy slows down a little, careful of being in a residential neighborhood now. The house is just a little down the road, set back from the street and hidden behind a row of bushes. There’s a car in the driveway, something nondescript that thankfully doesn’t scream cop. Lucy pulls alongside it, one eye on the motorcycles behind her as they pull alongside the house next door. She doesn’t turn the car off, running around it and opening the backseat. Cho groans a little when Lucy pulls his legs towards her until she can get a grip on his shirt. When she tugs, he falls forward into her. She nearly buckles under his weight but stays upright, half-carrying, half-dragging him towards the front door of the house.
Commander Chase stands in the entryway, gloves already on.
“He’s lost a lot of blood.” Lucy pulls him forward the last final feet. Two large men that Lucy doesn’t know, arms the size of her head, come towards her, taking Cho’s weight off of her. Lucy nearly staggers under the loss of it. “Leg, shoulder. I didn’t see anything else.”
“You did a good job.” Chase looks past her and Lucy knows she’s clocking Mateo and his friends behind her. “But it’ll cost you,’ she prompts gently.
“Right. Oh! Right.” Lucy pulls her wallet out of her back pocket and starts to empty it. Her license, her credit card, the loyalty card from Wen’s Tea. She dumps all of it out and hands it to Chase before she unclips her badge and puts it on top of the pile. “This is everything.”
Chase smiles kindly. “Stay safe, Lucy.” She turns and disappears into the house, closing the door behind her.
-
Cho is safe .
Lucy takes a second to breathe. Chase will patch Cho up and he’ll be fine; he’ll live. But now Lucy isn’t sure what’s going to happen now that she’s covered in Frank Cho’s blood. Now that Mateo Kāno knows her face. She can see their headlights just ahead, she knows that they’re watching her. So she takes just one more second before she gets back in the car and plugs in the second address Tennant gave her, a motel about twenty minutes away.
Behind her, two motorcycles go in the opposite direction, but one stays on her, following her through residential streets and back onto the main roads towards the motel. She grips the steering wheel the whole time, eyes darting nervously to the rearview mirror. The bike turns when she turns, brakes when she brakes. It’s darker now, nearly night, and the motel’s neon sign is nearly extinguished. But she pulls into a parking spot and turns the car off, watching as one of Mateo’s guys pulls into a spot at the other end of the L-shaped parking lot.
The bell above the door rings as Lucy pushes it open.
“No rooms available,” a flat voice calls.
Lucy hesitates. “Uh, it’s under the name Van Lew?”
A head pops up from behind the counter. A stone-faced woman stares at her, studying her for a moment and looking down at something behind the counter before giving a short nod. “We have a single room, second floor.” The woman pushes a room key towards her, Treehouse Motel on it, and then reaches back down to pick something else up.
A small envelope is pushed across the counter towards her, a set of keys on top of that. A second envelope, this one fatter than the first, goes next to it. Lucy looks down at the counter and frowns. She’s about to protest when she remembers what Tennant told her - these are government people. They’re helping her. She looks back up just as a duffel bag and helmet gets pushed at her.
“Take the stairs up and down the hall. Room 211.” The woman meets her eyes and holds her gaze. “Good view of the parking lot.”
“Thanks.” Lucy pockets the envelopes quietly, clutching both sets of keys in her hands and throwing the bag over her shoulder.
She pushes out of the office into the balmy night and glances quickly at the parking lot. The man is still sitting on his bike, the engine humming as he idles. Up the stairs and down the open-air hall, she finds room 211 quickly and unlocks the door with hardly-shaking hands. She flips on the light and frowns. The room is beige - the walls, the rug, the scratchy-looking comforter, the pillowcases, the TV stand, the bedside table, the small kitchen table and chairs, and the single dresser. All beige. She closes the door behind her, drops the bag, and pulls the shades so they cover the windows.
“Relax, Lucy, relax.” She empties her pockets, putting the hotel keys on the table and turning the second set of keys over in her hand. She recognizes the key fob - Harley Davidson. Peeking out between the vertical shades, she spots a Harley parked a few spots down from her car.
She opens her phone and hits redial. It hardly rings once before Tennant picks up the line.
“I made it to the motel.”
Tennant sighs and it sounds like relief. “Good. Were you followed?”
Lucy glances into the parking lot. He’s still there. “By one of them. The other two are gone.”
“Agent Tannery at the desk should have given you a few things. Some identification documents, some cash, a few clothes we were able to grab from your locker. We found a motorcycle in the garage and had someone drop it off for you.”
Lucy swallows. “So this is happening.”
Tennant is quiet for a minute. “We can get you out first thing tomorrow morning.”
“No,” Lucy says quickly. “No, Mateo Kāno knows my face. He’s got someone following me. The best thing I can do is stay put until we figure out how to bring him down for Cho’s attempted murder.”
“Lucy.”
Lucy freezes for a second. “Hey, Whistler.”
Whistler sighs. “Tennant filled me in.”
Lucy silently opens the first envelope. A Hawai’i license falls out. “Samantha Gracer, age 29.”
“We put something together quickly, but it should be enough to get you through a few days.” Tennant pauses. “There’s a license and a US passport, if you need it. And another envelope with enough cash to get you by.”
“Do I need to keep my receipts?” Lucy asks, laughing a little. No one laughs back. “Wait, do I really?”
“No, Lucy.” Whistler sounds worn, beat down.
Lucy wonders what she looks like right now, if her hair is down after hours or if she’s been tightening her pony tail with each passing minute. She’s bothered, Lucy can tell that much. With Cho’s shooting or Lucy putting herself, literally, in the middle of things, Lucy doesn’t know. But she can guess.
“I talked to my Director,” Whistler continues.
“And I told him it’s not his call,” Tennant says over her.
Lucy looks to her left where Jesse or Kai would be standing, but there’s no one to make a face at; no one to go, ‘are you seeing what I’m seeing’ with.
“We think this might be an opportunity to put another person inside the Kāno family. Like you said, Mateo Kāno already knows your face. You might be able to play this to your advantage and get a look into their operation.”
“So, I go undercover. That’s what the ID is for, right? And Sam was the best you could come up with?” she jokes. The line stays quiet. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m freaking out a little.”
“I know,” Whistler says softly.
For a second, Lucy closes her eyes and pictures being out of this beige room and back in the bullpen, standing just a few feet away from Whistler. She’d be leaning against her desk, Whistler probably sitting in her seat. Whistler would smile and maybe roll her eyes, and then she’d remind Lucy that they have things to do, cases to solve, people to help.
“I’m going to have to take a raincheck on that drink,” Lucy says just as softly.
“I know.” Whistler goes quiet for a moment. “But first round is on me.” She clears her throat and Lucy can’t help but smile at the way Whistler turns into Whistler in a single breath. “We have a real opportunity here, Lucy. But you need to know: it might take some time.”
“And we don’t know how much,” Tennant cuts in. “Lucy, you do not need to do this. I think we may be rushing into things, like I told Whistler. Everything happened too fast tonight. It makes sense if we just back off, you lay low for a while, and the FBI builds a case against the Kāno family.”
Lucy is shaking her head before Tennant finishes. She knows things are moving too quickly; she just handed over everything that identifies her as Lucy Tara. But Whistler is right. They have a chance to get inside the Kāno camp and she can do it. She knows motorcycles - rebellion is many things and some of Lucy’s involved big engines. But she’s also good with people, she always has been. And even if she got off on the wrong foot with Mateo, there’s nothing saying that’s how it has to stay that way.
“Lucy,” Tennant says, catching her attention again. “We don’t know how long this will take. It could be weeks. It could be months . This is a commitment and you need to take that into consideration before you agree to this.”
Lucy takes a deep breath in. “I think I can do it.”
“Are you-”
“Only if you-”
Lucy doesn’t stop the grin on her face this time. “I can do it,” she says again, feeling more sure this time. “I might need a day to get my head together. Do some recon, meet with a handler. Establish a cover story.”
“It’ll be me,” Whistler says. “I’ll be your handler. I’m not letting you do anything without me.”
That’s a small measure of relief. It loosens Lucy’s shoulders and she exhales. She pulls out one of the kitchen chairs and sinks into it. Her body suddenly feels heavy with the weight of everything that’s happened. She looks down at her hands and seems to realize they’re streaked red with Cho’s blood.
“I need to take a shower,” she says wearily. “Can we talk some more in the morning?”
“Of course.” Whistler’s voice is soft again and Lucy closes her eyes as she takes it in. Everything is spinning, but Whistler’s voice is like a lighthouse in the dark. She latches onto it and lets it bring her in. “I’ll call you, first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll go over everything.”
“Okay,” Lucy breathes. She reaches for the phone to end the call when she pauses. “Tennant?”
“Yes?”
“If Cho doesn’t make it…”
“He will.” Tennant sounds sure. “And it’ll be because of you.”
Lucy feels her chest tighten. “Tell the boys not to worry about me, okay?”
“Like that’ll help.” Lucy can see Tennant’s smile in her mind. “We’re all going to be worried about you, Lucy. We’ll get you home as soon as we can.”
Lucy ends the call, staring at the phone as it goes back to the home screen. She can see the picture behind all the apps - it’s one that Heather took at the last barbeque they had. She forced them all to take a picture, pushing them closer together to fit inside the frame and taking picture after picture. Ernie has an arm over her shoulder and she’s pressed to Jesse’s side. Even Kai doesn’t seem bothered to be in the picture, smiling next to Tennant. Lucy stares at it for a minute before she opens her phone and changes the background to something generic, a swirl of ambient colors that doesn’t give too much away. She changes the lock screen to match.
Lucy peeks out the window one more time, but the parking lot is clear, the space where the idling motorcycle was now empty. Lucy unclocks the door and locks it again, turning one of the kitchen chairs around and shoving it up under the door handle to secure it. She turns off the overhead light and turns on the bedside lamp, standing in the middle of the room and trying to take stock of what just happened.
With a sigh, she goes into the bathroom and turn on the light, then the faucet. She looks at herself in the mirror, hands cupped together as water rushes through them. She says goodbye to Lucy Tara for now, splashes her face with water, and says hello to Samantha Gracer.