Chapter Text
XXXXXX- Nick
Nick sat at his desk. It was late, most of the other detectives had left for the night. It wasn’t often he stayed late once a case was closed, but this report wasn’t so easily written. Depending on how he wrote it up, it would ring bells that couldn’t be unrung. It would turn the life of a former officer and his family upside down. He wasn’t so sure he was ready to do that, but to not include everything he’d found rode a little too close to the kind of cop he detested.
He took another sip of his coffee as he looked at his half typed report. He grimaced, he hadn’t realized his coffee had grown so cold. He set his mug down, rubbing his hands over his face. He glanced at the clock, it was already a quarter to nine.
“Vera!”
Lieutenant Stillman’s voice startled Nick.
“Get in here,” Stillman demanded.
Nick groaned, rubbing his hands over his face as he pushed himself from his chair. His back groaned in protest and his knees ached from being in the same position for so long. Several of the night shift detectives looked on as he walked toward Stillman’s office. There were a few murmurs of curiosity, but most were happy to return to their own work when he glared at the few that dared to meet his eyes.
“You needed me?” Nick questioned as he stepped into the office, closing the door behind him.
“You want to tell me why DAs office is calling me telling me they don’t have your report on the Westergaard investigation?” Stillman met his eyes, “You told me two days ago, you’d wrapped it up.”
“I’m having trouble accurately writing up the report,” Nick answered, sliding into the chair in front of Stillman’s desk.
His Lieutenant’s eyes widened in surprise, before his face softened, “You’re a good detective Nick. You may hate desk work, but writing up the final case notes has never been an issue. So enlighten me, what’s different here?”
“The stuff on Westergaard's investigation into and arrest of Jack Davis is clear. He clearly took a bribe from the Weselton family to keep their son, Charles, out of trouble for the murder of Linda Robinson,” Nick explained, “All of that’s in the report.”
“That’s the investigation. So what’s the issue?”
“It’s Westergaard's death. It’s not…” He hesitated, trying to find the words. Stillman’s curious look forced him to settle on, “adding up.”
“I see,” Stillman looked him over before shifting in his seat, leaning back into a more comfortable position, “Detail it out for me.”
XXXXXX- Anna
Anna was humming quietly as she placed the bread in the oven. The melodic notes of Sinatra’s “Long and Far Away” echoed throughout the white and mint colored kitchen. That song had been one of her favorites growing up. Her mother had often sung it to her. She so much wanted to believe she was living the dream romance she’d dreamed of. After her parent’s accident, she’d been so sure Hans was her happy ever after, but now…
Anna shook her negative thoughts away as she anxiously looked up at the clock. She sighed with relief, he wouldn’t be home for at least an hour.
She took a deep breath and focused herself on cleaning up. Despite her every effort to be more neat and tidy while she cooked somehow flour had found its way all over the counter and floor. Her apron was scattered with the evidence of her efforts, but the problem was so was the rest of her. She’d need to get cleaned up too.
Anna was thankful that there were still a few slices of the chocolate cake in the cupboard. At least she also wouldn’t have to make a new desert, risking an even larger mess.
XXXXXX- Kristoff
He’d been in Arendelle for a week and so far he had hated every minute of it. There were too many people and his cramped apartment made him miss his small cabin in the woods. He’d much rather be hearing the sounds of birds singing than the sounds of rushing cars out his window.
He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. He knew he should be more thankful for his transfer. Sheriff Nattura was helping him. He’d sent him here to get the experience he needed to advance his career, but that didn’t make his time away any more enjoyable.
He glanced at his alarm clock, it was just after three in the afternoon. He needed to report in three hours. He’d much rather sleep, but his body was still too used to the early mornings in the mountains to let him go back to sleep while the sun was out and shining.
“Three months,” he whispered the reminder to himself. He was only here for three months. He’d been told all the best cases came in during the night shift. That the best officers made their names in the night shift, but so far he remained too tired all shift to believe he’d sharpen his skills.
He turned on the shower, keeping the water cold.
XXXXXX- Hans
Hans pulled up in the alleyway beside Weselton’s department store, making sure to keep his car in the shadows. He scoped out the area carefully, paying close attention to each shadow, but they were empty. Just outside the alley was a bustling street of cars and shoppers. None, staying in his line of sight for more than a few seconds.
He relaxed, glancing at his watch. He was fifteen minutes early, but he’d never worked with Weselton and new clientele came with added risks. Especially for a job as big as the phone call had hinted. So he kept careful watch. If anything seemed off, he was out. The job was guaranteed to pay well, but not so well he’d put his name at risk. Not when he had his sights set on a promotion.
Sergeant Clark was retiring in a few months, and Hans couldn’t stand him. A by-the-book cop. A man who didn’t like him—but Hans would change that. Clark was stationed in the choice precinct of Arendelle and Hans wanted that position, but he wasn’t going to get it without Clark’s direct recommendation. He was determined to have it. He was planning on inviting him and his wife over for dinner next week.
Clark was the type to be won over with a personal dinner at home rather than a fancy restaurant. In fact, he was sure that Clark would become suspicious if he took him somewhere extravagant. Hans knew he’d have to make sure Anna was prepared for such a task. While her ability to charm the Clarks was undoubted, her standards for meals and presentation would need to be elevated. Everything would need to be perfect.
Hans glanced at his watch, just as a figure moved in shadow’s behind him. He readied himself to drive out of the alley, when he looked into the side mirror and noticed it was Weselton approaching the car.
“You’re early,” Hans snarled as the man slid into his car.
“So are you,” Weselton countered.
Hans rolled his eyes, “What’s the job?”
“My son was…”
“Arrested for murder of his girlfriend,” Hans interrupted him, “I’m well aware. What I am unsure of is what you want from me.”
Duke Weselton glared at the detective, but he didn’t voice his dissatisfaction. Han Westergaard was his only hope of keeping his son out of jail and keeping the family name from being dragged further through the mud.
“I need you to make it go away.”
Hans's eyes twinkled as he resisted his urge to smile. He loved when people were this desperate. He could demand so much more, “Something like that isn’t exactly easy. It’s going to cost you.”
“We need this to disappear quickly and I’m willing to pay for that,” Weselton told him firmly.
“I’ll need five thousand up front,” Hans informed him. He watched Weselton’s eyes bulge for a moment, but when he remained silent Hans continued, “There will be expenses, I expect those to be covered. Also it will be another five thousand when I finish the job.”
“That’s a lot of money. What exactly…”
“I don’t give out the details. But you don’t want charges dropped, you want your family name cleared and fast. I can do it, but that doesn’t happen easily and it’s going to cost you. So do we have a deal?”
“Deal. I’ll have your money tomorrow,” Weselton started to open the door, but he was stopped by Hans’ hand on his arm, pulling him back.
“Two things. From now on, I contact you. You never contact me. Second,” he pulled out a slip of paper, “Have the money put into this safety deposit box,” Hans released Weselton’s arm, allowing him to slip from his car.
Hans waited for him to disappear before shifting into drive, pulling out of the alleyway and merging unnoticed into the city traffic. Maybe he’d head home early.