Jason set the box of pizza on the kitchen table and his sixteen-year-old nephew immediately launched himself at it, taking three slices and inhaling one before either Jason or his ex-sister-in-law could put even a single slice on their own plate.

“You want to try breathing?” Carly Jacks asked with a wry smile. She poured herself a soda and tossed a bottle of water at Jason. “I swear—”

“I got soccer practice in like twenty minutes,” Michael complained. “Dante’s gonna pick me up because you won’t let me have my car—”

“He’s grounded for curfew violations again,” Carly offered to Jason as an aside.

“Eleven is too early—”

“I think eight is too late, so we’ve compromised.” Carly ignored Michael’s protests and turned her attention to Jason. “Have you heard anything more about Dillon?”

“No.” Jason set a slice of the supreme pizza on his plate but didn’t eat. “It’s been a few days. Elizabeth said they’re waiting for the crime scene report and fingerprints.”

“Lu’s brother said it doesn’t look good,” Michael said with confidence.

“Lucky probably shouldn’t have said anything,” Carly said when Jason frowned. “He wasn’t specific, but he felt bad.” She tilted her head. “Have you talked to Elizabeth since she got Dillon out of jail?”

“Yeah. Uh, once on the phone. I’m looking into a few things, but there aren’t a lot of witnesses willing to talk to me.” If he’d had a badge, they would have talked, he thought with a bitterness he didn’t usually allow himself.

But that was probably a lie. People didn’t cooperate with cops much better than private investigators. People, in general, just didn’t want to cooperate at all with any kind of authority. Not in Port Charles.

Still, a badge would have felt better.

“Hmm…” Mercifully Carly didn’t comment it either—she had not been thrilled Jason had left his job to placate Courtney, but then Carly had never been a fan of Courtney. The feeling had been mutual—Courtney could never understand why Jason had remained friendly with his brother’s ex-wife.

Jason didn’t much like his brother, and he could respect Carly’s upfront selfish nature. Her first priority was her kids, of which she had three. Michael was his only biological nephew, and her two younger children, Morgan and Jocelyn, spent more time with their fathers than Michael did with AJ. But Carly always worried about herself next. Everyone else was tied for distant third.

You knew what you were getting with Carly.

“I haven’t seen Elizabeth since the funeral,” Carly continued as she sipped her soda.

At this turn in conversation, Michael stopped inhaling his dinner and looked up. “She’s at the hospital a lot. Or she was last year when I volunteered.”

Jason frowned at this. “Was she hurt?”

“Nah, I mostly saw her in the community wing where all the support groups and psych doctors are. She was probably visiting a client.” Michael shrugged. “She always says hi to me.”

“Why wouldn’t she? We weren’t…not talking,” Jason said, but he felt defensive about the nearly two years of radio silence with his sister’s best friend. No, they had not been best friends. Not even close. But they’d been friendly. Work colleagues.

And Elizabeth had been essentially without family in Port Charles after her parents had moved to Miami during her college years. The Morgans had been a surrogate for her.

Had he…somewhere given the impression that he didn’t want to continue that bond? Or had his family felt the same way he had—that contact with Elizabeth was just another reminder of Emily when they just wanted to put it behind him?

“How is she doing in private practice?” Carly asked. “It’s strange to think of her as a defense attorney. I can remember her at the holidays talking about justice and serving the people. Being a prosecutor would help her prevent abuses just as much as she could punish them.” She sighed, a bit over dramatically. “Then again, a lot of people made decisions they shouldn’t have trying to make amends.”

“That’s not why I left my job,” Jason said, with a dose of irritation. “Stop it, Carly.”

“Oh, right, it was to make Courtney happy. Or give your mom some relief. Or make Alan look at you again.” Carly raised her brows. “Are you sure it wasn’t all of them?”

He wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “Things with my parents are fine.”

“Uh huh. I’m probably closer to them than you are—”

A beeping from the driveway out front broke into their conversation as Michael shoved the last of his third slice into his mouth, grabbed his soccer bag, and shot through the kitchen door.

Carly frowned. “Goodbye!” she called after him. When there was no answer, her frown deepened into a scowl. “I don’t understand teenage boys.”

“I gotta go—”

“You’ve been here five seconds,” Carly complained. She huffed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t poke at you about the job. I just…” She shrugged. “It’s close to two years, you know. And…I just…I don’t know. I miss how things used to be. Alan and Monica here. You doing something you like. I don’t miss Courtney, so I guess that’s a bonus—”

“Carly—”

“And I miss Emily. You guys were my family, even after I left AJ. And it’s just…it’s over, and it sucks. And you and I are all that’s left.” She shrugged. “I wish you were happier.”

“I’m fine,” Jason said evenly, even as he acknowledged her point. Their once happy and boisterous family had been decimated, and life had changed for all of them.

“Yeah, I didn’t say fine, I said I wish you were happier.” Carly sipped her soda and was quiet for a moment. “Maybe it’ll be good you’re back in contact with Elizabeth. Did you apologize for being a son of bitch in the hospital?”

“I wasn’t…that bad,” he mumbled as he ignored the question and ate his pizza. But he had been, of course, even if Elizabeth had let him off the hook.

Those first hours after it had happened—they were hazy. A blur of rage. Tears. Frustration. Devastation.

He’d gone to the scene even when his partner had begged him not to and had seen the carnage left behind. Had seen his sister’s broken and bruised body laying on the floor, her dark hair soaked with her own blood, her eyes open and lifeless. Her face twisted in reflection of the horrors in the last moments of her life.

Elizabeth had already been removed from the scene, rushed to the hospital for surgery, but he could see where she had been found. Next to his sister, another pool of blood.

It would be hours before Elizabeth would wake and tell them it was Diego Alcazar. Hours before before Jason would know he was to blame as much as Elizabeth.

But in those moments, he’d raged at the world. At his partner when Sonny had tried to hold him back. At the crime scene techs who were treated his sister like a piece of evidence—

At Elizabeth for not living in a better building with better security. It had been her fault. Her home. Her responsibility to make sure the animals she prosecuted never found her.

And he’d taken that rage at the world and the people in it to the hospital, where he waited for her to go into recovery. Waited for her to wake up.

Even when she’d said it was Diego Alcazar, it hadn’t made a dent in his desire to hurt her. Knowing it was Alcazar and partially his own fault had only intensified that rage—

And he’d left Elizabeth in that hospital room, barely removed from her own horrors, having unleashed his fury on her.

Later, that anger had turned to deep shame as the medical reports had come back. He’d used all his connections to get into the case, had burned more than one bridges in his desire to find out what had happened to Emily in her final moments.

Both women had been savagely raped and beaten, the calling card of Alcazar’s prior victims. Emily had been stabbed more than forty times, sixteen of which would have been fatal. And Elizabeth…stabbed eight times, only one of which had been potentially life-threatening.

Alcazar had left Elizabeth alive on purpose.

Later statements revealed Elizabeth had been stabbed first—that she’d been bleeding out while Alcazar murdered Emily in front of her. Somehow…Jason had blocked out the idea that Elizabeth had that in her head. That she’d witnesses Emily’s brutal death as much as she’d gone through her own trauma.

And that shame had kept him from seeking her out. What kind of man would do that to someone he cared about? To someone who his sister had loved so much?

“Jason,” Carly said when he said nothing. “It was a bad night.”

“Yeah.” He pushed aside his half-eaten pizza. “Yeah. Doesn’t make it right.”

“Did you apologize to her?” she repeated.

“She didn’t want the apology.” Jason swallowed. “Because she does blame herself. And me. We’re both the reason it happened. He left her alive on purpose.”

Carly exhaled slowly. “Well, yeah, I guess we knew that—”

“He told her that while he was—” Bile rose in his throat and he took a long gulp of water to force it down. “He told her it was her fault for doing a man’s job, so he needed to show her a woman’s place.”

Color slid out of Carly’s cheeks. “God. I didn’t—”

“So, yeah, she knows I’m sorry. Doesn’t change anything.” He rubbed his face. “Doesn’t matter. Alcazar is long gone. He’s in Mexico or somewhere else in Central America.”

“I hate that he’s not rotting in hell,” Carly muttered. “Jason—”

“It’s over. It happened. And now it’s done.” Jason rose to his feet to throw out his unfinished slice. “Dillon is what matters now.”

“Right.” Carly rubbed his shoulder. “Jason—”

“I’m gonna hit the road. Tell Michael I’ll see him at his soccer game later, and tell Morgan and Joss I said hi when they get home from their dad’s.”

“Okay,” she murmured, and thank God…she said nothing else as he left.

It was another two days before Elizabeth called Dillon to meet her at his office. And because Dillon didn’t want to have this conversation with his cousin later, he immediately passed the message on to Jason to meet him at the office.

So Elizabeth sat down at a conference table with both Dillon and Jason that afternoon, trying not to let her irritation show. She wasn’t even sure why she was irritated. Dillon didn’t have any other close family in Port Charles. Jason had always been the one his family turned to.

And Jason was going to do the investigation work for free, which mattered in a struggling practice.

“The crime scene report came back. There are no other finger prints or indications that someone else was driving the car.”

Dillon’s face fell. “What? But how am I supposed to prove—”

“Are they making noises about arrests?” Jason asked, interrupting his cousin. “Or did they believe the alibis?”

“My source says that they believe Lucas and Spinelli were playing video games, but woudn’t have heard a damn thing. Case in point, they didn’t hear the car being stolen. So, it’s not really giving you any weight against Dillon being involved.”

Dillon’s face was pale, so she went on. “However, the district is being prevented from swearing out a warrant against you, mostly because there were some calls from Central.” At this she looked at Jason who just shrugged. “Your clean record is being noted. And no one can place you at the scene, so in this case, ownership isn’t going to be enough.”

“But they think I’m guilty,” Dillon muttered.

“There are some who are leaning that way, and it’s in our interests to prove you weren’t,” Elizabeth told him. “The family of the victim…are making noises. Talking about going to the press. Even filing a civil suit if the criminal courts don’t take action.”

“Civil…” Dillon’s voice weakly faltered. “I don’t have money—”

“Your family does,” Jason said. “Your mother married into the Quartermaines. You have a trust fund, don’t you?”

“I guess, but I don’t really see my Quartermaine grandparents. I think my trust is from my grandmother, Lila. For education and stuff.” Dillon moaned into his fingers. “Oh, God. If they get wind of this—”

“On bright side,” Jason said, dryly, “They’ll probably pay elizabeth so she won’t have to do this pro bono.”

Dillon’s head snapped up at that. “What? Oh, I didn’t even think about that. I should call them. Ask them—”

Elizabeth held up a hand. “Let’s cross that bridge if we need to. I’m not much for civil court, so you’d probably need other representation at that point. Let’s focus on clearing you and making sure the right person is charged. Someone died, Dillon. That matters.”

“Right. Right. I should think about that, too. They need to find the right person, so I need to cooperate and make it easier for them to do that. What’s next?” Dillon asked, looking a bit more…together.

“I’m looking into security footage and witnesses to the accident,” Jason said. To Elizabeth, he said, “We might need a subpoena for some it. There’s a bank across the street who won’t release it without it. And there’s no guarantee we’d get it from the DA unless Dillon is charged.”

Dillon moaned again, but they both ignored him. “I’ll draw up the paperwork,” she agreed. “I don’t want Dillon charged, and well…the new district attorney is pretty strict about discovery laws. We might not even get it if Dillon is charged.”

Maxie knocked on the slightly ajar door to the conference room. “Hey, Liz? The commissioner is here to see you.”

“The commissioner of the…” Elizabeth frowned. “About Dillon?”

“Ah…” Jason looked uncomfortable. “You know, Jordan stepped down as commissioner last month.”

“Yeah, I know. Anna Devane—” And she stopped. Closed her eyes. Remembered who Anna Devane was.

And what she had been doing two years ago.

“She was your commander at Central.”

“Yeah.” Jason rose to his feet. “When the case went cold, she was angry. Sure they weren’t putting enough resources into it. When she got the job, I wondered if—”

“Liz?” Maxie asked. “Should I ask her to come back—”

“No, no…” Elizabeth stood, smoothed her hands down her skirt. “Dillon, I’ll get the paperwork together, and I think between Jason and I, we’ll get this taken care of. Go back to your life. To your classes.”

“Okay.” Dillon got up, looked uncertainly between them. “Do you think there’s a lead on—”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said quickly. Couldn’t afford to know. To wonder. She looked at Jason. “You know Anna. Could you…maybe if it’s about the case—”

“I’ll come with you,” Jason said quietly. “If it’s about the case, I want to know, too.”

+2

This was going to have a second scene, but I got halfway through it and hated it. So next time 😛 This is a bit shorter, written in 40 minutes.

It had been two years since he’d been in the same room as Elizabeth Webber, and before then, he could only remember a handful of times he’d run into her since she and his sister had moved back to Port Charles.

Growing up, she had been in and out of his house as often as Emily, but she’d always seemed…so young. He’d been a senior—she and Emily in middle school. He was in his first year at the PCPD when they’d gone to prom. There just…hadn’t been a reason to know her any better.

Until that last year when she’d been assigned to Violent Crimes at the district attorney’s office and had been overseeing the warrants and legal paperwork he’d needed investigating a string of rape-homicides.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as they cross the street to the Starbucks, and then held the door for her. She didn’t look much different. Still short, but the length of chestnut hair he vaguely remembered had been cut to something sharper, just beneath her jawline.

She looked older, but it wasn’t just the hair. The eyes were older. And he couldn’t help but look at her collarbone, where a thin, thin jagged scar snaked out beneath the blue blouse she wore.

“So,” he said as they waited in the order line. “You left the DA’s office.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t—” She lifted a shoulder, but it was a jerky movement—it wasn’t the casual gesture she’d intended. “I needed a more flexible schedule.”

“Yeah.” He ordered a black coffee and his gut twisted as he listened to Elizabeth order a hot chocolate. His sister’s favorite drink, and now, he remembered—it was something they’d had in common.

Jason didn’t think about Emily much these days. He had some photos of her hanging around, and sometimes he mentioned her to his parents or to his former sister-in-law, but he found it easier to just…not think about her.

Drinks in hand, they went outside to the terrace. It was empty this time of day—the change in season had brought a breeze that others weathered inside.

“You left the PCPD,” she said, as if there hadn’t been five minutes of silence as they settled themselves.

“Yeah. Well…my priorities changed.” It had been the last desperate attempt to salvage his marriage. After Emily, his wife Courtney had been…unable to handle the implied danger and threat. If one of Jason’s criminals came after his sister, well wouldn’t she be next?

And since he’d taken a vow, he left the department. It still hadn’t saved their marriage, and now Jason missed the work.

“What do you think they’re going to do with Dillon?” she asked. “I never worked with the Fourth District, but…they didn’t look like they’d let this case go.”

“Yeah, the Fourth has a reputation of being a bit cowboy,” he admitted. He’d worked out of Central, overseen a squadron of detectives. “One of my guys worked there for a while. Their lieutenant is a bit…enthusiastic. Taggart.” He sipped the coffee. “Death of an elderly woman. A young guy accused of it. There’s not a lot to tie him to it, but if those crime scene reports come back without any prints for someone else—”

“His alibi isn’t great. Lucas and Spinelli said they didn’t see him leave, but if they had headsets on—”

“I’ve seen those idiots play. They wouldn’t know if a marching band came through.” Jason exhaled slowly. “They’re not gonna hold.” He flicked his eyes to hers. “Look, after…I left the department and—well, anyway, I’m certificated as private investigator. I mostly work for other law firms. Some insurance work. You’ll need someone. I’ll do it for nothing.”

She bit her lip, said nothing, and sipped her hot chocolate. “We don’t know if we have to worry about any of that,” Elizabeth began.

“If we do.”

“I mean, I’d be stupid to say no,” she admitted. “I doubt Dillon can afford me, much less a PI. And don’t even say it—of course, I’m not charging him. I used to baby sit him and—” She looked away. “He came to the hospital a few times to see me.”

And then Emily was between them again. They’d been able to ignore it while they were talking about Dillon, but the hospital brought it back.

“Listen, I wanted to apologize about—I wanted to back then. It just never felt like the right time, and then you left your job—”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Elizabeth said with a shrug. “Everyone was upset. And it was just…it was bad. And—” She sighed. “It was easier in a lot of ways that your family kind of…”

Abandoned her, but Jason didn’t say it. Elizabeth’s family had left the area while the girls had been in college, and Elizabeth had come back to Port Charles because of Emily.

And after Emily died—

“I moved,” she said. “Robin packed up some of my things. I couldn’t go back. And the DA’s office was kind, but they…couldn’t give me the time off I really needed. So I left and went into private practice. Johnny and I have nearly starved, but it’s starting to get better. My therapist says I have avoidance issues. She wanted me to call you last year on the first—” Elizabeth shook her head. “But I didn’t.”

“I wanted to call you,” he told her. “But I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” He shifted in his seat. “Still, I never should have said it was your fault—”

“It was,” Elizabeth said flatly. “It was mine. It was yours. Because we did our job, and Emily was always the target. That’s why I’m not dead. So yeah, I’d say we each have like one percent responsibility. But that’s it. The rest of it belongs to Diego Alcazar.”

To hear her state the situation so bluntly, to have his thoughts put into words without any attempt soften them—

It shouldn’t have felt reassuring.

“Everyone told me it wasn’t my responsibility,” he said after a moment. “The captain. Hell, the commissioner. My parents. Courtney. It was just the job. The price of doing the work.”

“Our contact information is hidden like that does anything.” She snorted. “He followed me home from work. Had followed me every day for two weeks.”

“You didn’t—” He swallowed the words.

“I didn’t know it then. He told me while he was—” Elizabeth swallowed, looked away. “If I had looked over my shoulder, or watched the cars on the road. Maybe I would have been able to see him. Arrest him. It was my fault for being stupid. For doing a man’s job.” Her voice trembled. “So he wanted to make sure I knew what a woman was good for.”

He wanted to reach across the small metal table, just to to touch her hand. To let her know she wasn’t alone.

“He sent me pictures,” Jason said after a moment, the words forced from his chest. If she could open herself up, the least he could do was offer something in return. “Of…you. Of…Emily. During. After.” He swallowed. “And before. He’d stalked Emily, too. I didn’t know about you.”

“I used to blame you a lot more,” she admitted. “If you could have just found him, arrested him. And that’s not fair,” she added quickly. “You did the best you could. I know what that case was doing to you. How hard you were all working.”

“Didn’t matter.” Jason shoved the coffee aside. “Couldn’t find him then. They took me off the case after. They still—last known confirmed sighting was somewhere in Mexico.”

It had been the worst part of it — to know that the son of bitch who’d butchered his sister and all those other women—that he still had his freedom. That he hadn’t been caught.

“I’ve had to to figure out a way to live with that.” She lifted her chin slightly. “Anyway, all that’s to say is that I never held what you said in the hospital against you. Nothing to apologize for.” She lifted her bag into her lap. “Do you have a number where I can reach you if the PCPD decides to go further against Dillon?”

“Yeah.” He reached into his wallet and dug out of one of his cards. When she put her fingers around it, he didn’t let go right away. Their eyes met. “Thanks for helping Dillon. He’s an idiot, but he’s mine.”

“He was Emily’s,” she said simply. “And now he’s mine, too.”

He released the card. She slid it into the bag and then walked away, crossing the street back to the PCPD parking lot where her car remained. He watched her get in, back up, and then pull into traffic.

+2

I wrote this in 42 minutes, give or take about ten seconds. Not edited for content, spelling, or grammar. Alternate universe and a new version of the short Micro Fiction series, Birthdays and Anniversaries.

When the leaves changed color in upstate New York during the fall and the cafes began stocking pumpkin spice in bulk, not everyone was overjoyed.

In fact, for the last two years, when the short summer season signaled the coming of autumn, Elizabeth Webber considered hibernation. The bears had the right of it.

She’d once been ambivalent about this season — years of going back to school or beginning a new semester at college and later law school never triggered much excitement.

But Halloween and her birthday day after? Those had been holidays to anticipate with glee. She’d once scoured newspapers and internet listings for haunted houses to explore. She and her small group of friends had made it an all night event in college and law school — celebrating the candy filled horror and the passing of another year in life.

And in the two years after law school, when friends had scattered and she’d settled into her job as an assistant district attorney in her hometown of Port Charles, Elizabeth and her long time best friend, Emily Morgan, had created a new tradition.

They’d watch scary movies and hand out candy and sit up all night talking. Catching up with gory stories of Emily’s first year as an intern at General Hospital and Elizabeth’s first foray in the legal system.

Her birthday and Halloween had always seemed like the same holiday to Elizabeth.

Until it was the two days of the year she’d do anything to wipe from the calendar altogether.

She tried not to think about it anymore, and after the first year and therapy, she did an okay job of it.

But this year, the leaves had changed and it was harder to forget.

“Take a vacation,” her other oldest friend, Robin Scorpio, had suggested. “Just get away from Port Charles for a few days.”

“Avoid people and social media,” her boyfriend Patrick had added. “Like the plague.” He seemed to reconsider it for a moment. “You should just do that in general.”

But as September began to slip away and October was just around the corner, Elizabeth had made no plans to leave.

Leaving felt like a defeat. An admission that the last time she’d celebrated Halloween or acknowledged her birthday…it would continue to destroy her life. That the nightmare wasn’t over.

Not that she had much of a life left, she thought to herself as she let herself into the cramped suite of offices she shared with her law partner, Johnny Zacchara. She frowned when she saw that their receptionist, Maxie Jones, wasn’t behind her desk.

“Johnny?” she asked, poking her head into the office next to her own. “Where’s Maxie? Did she call out?”

“No.” Johnny stood, his handsome features twisted into concern. “She’s usually pretty good about opening the place up, but she hasn’t called yet. Should we call her?”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “It’s only nine. Let’s give her a bit more time. Maybe she forgot her phone. Or didn’t set it.”

Her cell began to ring even as she started to cross the tiny lobby to her own office. She dumped her bag on the chair in front of her desk and fished the cell from inside. “Elizabeth Webber.”

“Liz? Oh, my God. You have to come. Right now.”

The panicked words fell on top of one another as Maxie Jones continued to speak, and Elizabeth had difficulty deciphering them.

“Maxie, calm down. Take a breath. Where are you?”

“The police department. Um, I’m at—” There was a moment as her voice was slightly muffled. “The fourth district. Downtown somewhere. They’ve got Dillon.”

“Dillon?” Her pulse picked up. “What do you mean, they’ve got Dillon? Where?” Oh, God.

“In interrogation. They’re threatening to arrest him, he asked for a lawyer and they ignored him or something, and then he managed to convince them to call someone. Georgie called me because of you, but I thought she was insane. Or mistaken. Dillon wouldn’t hurt a fly. So I came here first just to be sure, and holy shit, Liz. They’re holding him for manslaughter, and they’re not listening to me about a lawyer.”

“The Fourth District?” Elizabeth repeated. “Okay. Okay. Breathe. Tell whoever is in charge they’re about to get a fax about representing Dillon and if whatever asshole is questioning my client after he asked for an attorney is interested in getting a boot up his ass.”

Behind her, Johnny had come in, overheard part of the conversation, and was already pulling up something on her computer. Probably the letterhead so he could type the fax.

“Maxie, why didn’t Dillon call Jason?”

“Oh.” Maxie hesitated. “Jason left the department last year, I think. Or something. Maybe Dillon didn’t think to ask. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Jason’s not a lawyer. You are. Come down here and make them let him go.”

“I’ll be right there, Maxie.” She shut her phone and tapped it against her forehead just a moment.

“Or maybe he called Jason, who got the ball rolling to get to you and Maxie isn’t telling you.”

Johnny even tone had her turning with a frown. “There’s no reason not to tell me. Jason and I aren’t…we’re not not talking. We just…haven’t talked.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s been going through a lot in the last two years. His parents moved to Arizona, his brother went to New York. I think Maxie said his marriage fell apart, and apparently he left the department.”

Johnny raised his brow. “And his sister was brutally murdered.”

Her chest squeezed. “Johnny—”

“And you barely survived the same attack.”

“You think I don’t know—”

He rose and set the sheet in the fax machine. “Look, I’m just saying, I get it. You both look at each other as the reason Emily was in the middle of things. Diego Alcazar wanted to swipe at the cop who arrested him and the attorney who was prosecuting them.”

“I can’t think about this right now,” Elizabeth said as she tossed her cell back in her bag and looped it over her shoulder. “The Fourth District has Jason’s cousin—Emily’s cousin—in interrogation on charges of manslaughter, and God knows how long he’s been talking without me.”

She turned back at the door to look at him. “Jason and I were barely friends when Emily died. He was my best friend’s older brother. Always in college, always doing something else. We only knew each other really that last year when we started to work some of the same cases. He didn’t owe me anything when it happened. And honestly, looking at him—it was too hard. So yeah, we didn’t keep in touch. It doesn’t make him the bad guy.”

“Doesn’t make him a great guy,” she heard him mutter as she left the office.

——

Dillon had not called his older cousin. When the cops had pulled him out of bed in the middle of the night, he’d cooperated. He had nothing to hide, and he wasn’t going to play the My cousin is a kick-ass cop card.

Because it wasn’t true, and hell, Jason hadn’t worked at the Fourth District so maybe these assholes didn’t even know him.

By the time Dillon worked out that his car had been at the scene of a hit and run resulting in the serious injury of an elderly woman who had later died in the hospital and he was the primary suspect—well, by then, he’d used his only call to tell Georgie he’d be missing class in the morning.

He’d asked for an attorney then, but somehow they’d talked him out of it. He still wasn’t sure how that worked.

“Let’s go over it again,” the bald one said. He was angry. One of the guys who seemed like he thought everyone was guilty of something and all that was left to figure out was what crime had been committed.

“What’s to go over?” Dillon demanded. “I parked my car around three yesterday. I worked until like two last night on a project for school. You guys pulled me out of my bed at four.” He rubbed his eyes. “That’s all I know.”

“Look, we get it. Freedom in college. You’re enjoying yourself. Maybe you had too much to drink—”

He scowled. “I want an attorney.”

“We’ve been over that—”

“Nope. It’s been six hours. I’m done now. Attorney.”

“Quartermaine—”

“I can spell that for you if you want,” Dillon said, his teeth clenched. “Let me call my attorney.”

“Why do you have an attorney? You got a record we don’t know about?” the bald one pressed.

“My girlfriend’s sister works for one. Elizabeth Webber. She’s…well, I’ve never asked her before but I’ve known her all my life. She’ll represent me. Let me call her.”

“You got her direct number?”

There was a knock on the door, and then it opened. Like a manna from heaven—there she stood. Five foot nothing, brunette, and pissed as hell.

“You charging my client with anything?” Elizabeth demanded.

“It’s his car,” Baldy began.

“And witnesses who said it was him behind the wheel? Proof he wasn’t exactly where he said he was?” Elizabeth held out her hand. “Arrest warrant or we’re walking.”

They stared at one another for a long moment before Baldy looked at Dillon, disgusted. “Get out of here.”

“Don’t open your mouth,” Elizabeth said as Dillon passed her. She pushed him out of the interrogation area and through the squad room. Neither of them said anything until they reached the parking lot, where Maxie, her sister Georgie had been joined by Lucas Jones and Damien Spinelli.

There were hugs and relief, and measures of gratitude directed at Elizabeth, who allowed it for a minute.

“What did you tell them? What did they say?” she demanded.

“My car was found abandoned a block away from a hit and run,” Dillon told her. “A woman was hit.” He swallowed. “She died like an hour ago. I didn’t know what they were asking for, Liz. I swear. They came in at four this morning, hauled me out of bed, put handcuffs on me.”

“He called me because he just thought he was coming in to talk about his car,” Georgie said. “I came to see what was going on, and they refused to let me see him. I got worried, so I asked Maxie for your number.”

“And I printed up a letter of representation,” Maxie said without shame. “But it wasn’t signed by you or Johnny, so they refused to take it. So I had to call you.”

“I just told them I don’t know anything. I came home from class at like three. Parked my car in the driveway. Worked on a project pretty much until two.”

“I can confirm that,” Lucas said as Spinelli nodded. “He was holed up in his room the whole night while me and Spinelli were playing Call of Duty. I mean, he could have gone out his window, but why?”

“And when did you notice your car missing?” Elizabeth asked.

“I didn’t.”

“We didn’t hear anything. Video game was loud and, uh, we may have been too.” Lucas’s cheeks flushed, but Elizabeth understood the way some guys played video games—as if they were going to war. And if they’d had their headsets on.

“Okay. You don’t talk to them again. They’ve got my card. They go through me from now on.” Elizabeth pressed a hand to her head. “Go home. I’ll be in touch—”

A green SUV pulled into the spot next to Spinelli’s second-hand beat up Datsun. Elizabeth watched as Jason Morgan slid out, his long legs quickly eating up the space between him and his cousin.

“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” he demanded, folding the younger man into a rough hug that looked half affectionate, half-irritated. “Did you even mention me?”

Dillon shrugged, swallowed. “Didn’t think of it honestly. But Georgie got it all going.” He glared at her. “And I guess you called him.”

“You’re suspected of manslaughter, you dink,” Georgie shot back.

“You got him out?” Jason asked as he focused on Elizabeth for the first time. His chiseled features twisted in relief as he stepped forward for just a moment—maybe to hug her or something. But then he didn’t. “Thank you.”

“Hopefully the crime scene report will have someone else’s prints,” Elizabeth said with half a shrug. “And I’ll send over Lucas and Spinelli as alibi witnesses, for what it’s worth.”

“I’ll make a call of my own,” Jason said to Dillon. “Between the two of us, we’ll get this taken care of.”

“Great,” Dillon said with great relief. “Can I go now? I got two hours of sleep and I’m supposed to work tonight, and I got class—”

“Get out of here and remember—”

“Don’t talk to the police,” he muttered. “Yeah, yeah. You’d think they were the enemy.”

Jason remained while the five of them crammed into Spinelli’s car. “If I were still on the beat, I’d write them a ticket for reckless endangerment,” he muttered as the car left the lot.

“Considering the way you used to pile football players into your sad little Chevrolet,” Elizabeth said with half a smile.

He looked at her then, the first time they’d been in the same room since he’d visited her in the hospital after the attack. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She shifted. “It’s, um, nice to see you.”

He managed half a laugh as he shook his head. “You don’t mean that, but thanks.” Jason gestured to the cafe across the street. “Let me buy you a coffee. We can catch up and talk about making sure my cousin doesn’t get into anymore trouble.”

“All right,” she said with a half-hearted shrug, even though everything in her screamed to refuse.

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