Archive of Our Own

2 September 2028

Charlie woke, the room pitch black, every nerve dancing, her heart raced with adrenaline, even if her mind questioned what she was doing awake.

A few seconds later the sounds of the explosion rolled over her and she had a second to think 'oh' before Bass was burying her between him and the mattress. The movements were so fast -- the thunder still tearing at the air -- that she knew he must have been woken up by whatever cosmic hand had shaken the bed ahead of the actual sound.

Shock wave, some clinical part of her realized, even as she batted at Bass, trying to get him off her enough that she could breath.

Something outside pattered down outside, as if the heavens had decided to rain metal and Bass was yelling "Miles" partially in her ear.

"You can get off me," she gasped and he rolled away, diving for the safe under the bed where he stored his handgun. It was unlatched and he popped back up with a pair of Glocks before he pulled on a pair of sweatpants as he darted to the wall safe where he stored the rifles.

"Bass, you and Charlie okay," her Uncle called out from his room and Charlie heard Nora cursing.

"Was that a car bomb? That sounded like a car bomb." Nora, Charlie remembered, had been Naval EOD and probably was all-too familiar with what car bomb actually sounded like.

"Might have been," Bass called back and he slung the M4, tossing her a shotgun and a box of shells.

Charlie fumbled her way into her own jeans and t shirt seconds before Miles burst into their room, his service weapon tucked into his waistband, torso and feet still bare. He ducked around Bass to pull another rifle out of the safe.

"Don't you have one of those in your room?" Charlie asked, aware how inane the question probably was, but Miles shrugged, as if it had merit.

"Gave it to Nora. She's calling it in. We going to go take a look?"

"We shouldn't," Bass sighed. "No telling who's out there. Or what evidence we might disrupt." But he was moving towards the door as if his words meant nothing.

"Stay away from the windows," Miles warned her. "They may still be out there."

"It could have been a gas leak," Charlie said, but Miles shook his head.

"Gas leak that large would have taken out a couple of cars. There's only one missing." Miles room, Charlie realized, faced the street and he would have looked.

"Please tell me it's my car," Bass sighed but her Uncle's wry lip-twist answered the question she hadn't dared ask. "Not the GTO?" When Miles didn't reply Bass winced. "Bastards. Sorry, Brother."

"Yeah, well, it's just a car." Except Miles had loved that car, Charlie knew.

Nora was in the hallway, speaking calmly but forcefully into the phone tucked between her shoulder and chin while she was checking something on a pistol. She holstered it in her waistband when Miles handed her one of the rifles.

"Let the fire department know there are armed officers on scene already. And make sure you get some explosive experts down here. I'll do what I can to make sure there are no secondaries but it's dark and I'd prefer to have more eyes." Charlie heard someone speaking before Nora responded. "There are four of us. We're the ones in pajamas with rifles. Or a shotgun," she added, jerking her head at Charlie. "I'm going to hand you over to Detective Matheson's niece while we check things out. She's going to be out with us." She dropped the phone into Charlie's hand. "Just keep an open line and let them know if anything else happens or what we see out there."

"I was going to have Charlie wait inside," Miles said but Nora shook her head.

"Don't be an idiot, Miles. If we go out there we're going to need overwatch." At his frown, she flashed a grin and nudged him with her shoulder. "Come on, it'll be just like old times."

"I don't recall the Taliban ever blowing up a GTO." Charlie heard the pure irritation in his tone and she flinched in sympathy. "And the last time we did this my niece was safely seven thousand miles away."

"Well she'll be with Bass. I think she'll be just fine." Nora stared at her for a moment, then gave a firm nod. "Charlie, no matter what you see, stick with your partner. And don't step anywhere that hasn't been cleared. By his target we know whoever did this was sending a message. But possibly it didn't end at Miles' car.

Nora picked the sliding glass door as their way out of the house because she could inspect it through the glass and be reasonably sure it wasn't going to explode when they opened it. "Don't use any other door until I've cleared them," she directed as they stepped through. Her survey of the gate from the back yard was nearly as thorough.

Charlie could already hear sirens by the time they walked onto the sidewalk. "Do you see anything, Ma'am," the dispatcher asked her and she pulled the phone out of the robe pocket she'd dropped it in while they'd been heading out because she'd wanted to have both her hands on the shotgun.

"No," she responded. "Nora's checking the area. No sign of a suspect," she added. She put the phone on speaker mode and dropped it into her pocket. "Can you still hear me?"

"You're a little faint," the dispatcher replied and his own voice was muffled but clear enough Charlie decided it was good enough.

Nora checked the front steps and door before declaring them clear. "Bass, you and Charlie stay here, would you. I don't want to get the cell phone down by the cars. Technically we shouldn't even be using it right now but I really want to keep the open line to dispatch so it's a risk I'm willing to take. Just, if you have to come off the steps, leave the phone there." She and Miles headed down to near the cars.

Miles, Charlie remembered, had been parked at the curb, closest to the driveway. Bass' car was parked in the driveway itself. There had been a fairly big gap between Miles' GTO and her car because she'd parked earlier in the day, before the mail had been delivered, and she hadn't wanted to block the mailbox that sat in front of their house. There was a twisted post remaining that stuck out of the concrete about a foot but the remainder of the box was nowhere to be found.

Of Miles' car, the axles were still there, smoking gently, but the remainder of the car was completely gone. She'd have expected it to have been on fire but there didn't seem to be enough of it remaining in place to actually burn. The wheels were still there but the rubber was completely melted and Bass swore next to her.

"Fuck. I haven't seen one this bad since. . .how the hell did it not take out the house too?"

"I saw one like this outside Samarra," Nora called back to him. "But the guard tower next to it was still intact. Force of the blast was all up and down. You'll be finding pieces of this thing for days. And they'll have a hell of a time patching the crater."

The sirens were getting louder and Charlie noticed Bass wasn't watching Nora or Miles but was instead scanning everywhere else; looking for the threat, Charlie realized, so she did the same.

The pulsing lights began whipping the whole area into masses of rotating shadows and she sensed almost more than felt Bass tense beside her and she moved one of her hands to touch his side. His left hand dropped to grip her fingers for a moment before he took a firmer grip on his rifle.

The first fire engine came roaring down the street but it stopped well back from them and Charlie heard the dispatcher calling to her and she pulled the phone back out of her pocket. "Yeah? Nora," she called. "They want to know if the engine can come in yet? Tell them to wait there," she relayed, "Nora says she'll walk down and get them when she thinks it's safe."

"You can go ahead and disconnect with dispatch now," Nora called back to her and she passed the message, thanking the dispatcher for his help and receiving return thanks for her assistance. She noticed Bass relaxed a little when the cell connection was closed and he took Nora's phone, turning it off rather than just disconnecting the call.

"Do you have your phone on you?" he asked and she shook her head.

"Left it in our room."

"Good." He didn't say anything else but he seemed to loosen his stance just a little and she wondered what memory was haunting him.

The next vehicle on scene was actual police and Miles stepped out to waylay them. Charlie wasn't sure what he said but they barely glanced at her when they passed, though the younger of the two men looked her way before going back to whatever his older partner was saying.

"Miles is going to have fun tomorrow," Bass said, his chuckle slightly on the grim side but Charlie was glad he looked a little less bleak. "I'm guessing he'll have all sorts of people asking for your number."

"Why?" she asked, then glanced down to realize she was in a thin t-shirt and a pair of Bass' old workout shorts. The air wasn't particularly uncomfortable but it wasn't exactly warm either. She considered switching her stance so her arms covered her breasts but her angle was one of the best to see the whole area and she decided that was more important than trying to pretend her body wasn't reacting to the elements. "Oh. Well he can tell them where to put their requests. I'm actually surprised no one has asked us to put down our weapons."

"Normally they would. . .but I'm sure Miles told them to leave it."

They stood there for about twenty more minutes before Nora came back, her rifle slung across her back. "Doesn't look like anything else was wired," she said, sitting on one of the steps and wiping grimy hands on her t shirt. "But just to be sure, no one drives their cars until they've been completely swept. They'll probably ask for your keys in a little bit. Not much more we can do here but they're also going to want us to be out of the house while they do a sweep of it too. I was going to take Miles back to my place. You guys are welcome to my couch." Nora's apartment, Charlie recalled, had two bedrooms but she used the second one as on office and the only bed in it was a twin for her niece who sometimes visited.

"Thanks but I think we'll find a hotel," Bass said. He had lowered the muzzle on his rifle but he hadn't shouldered it.

"We could go to my house," Charlie said. "I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind. Particularly given the circumstances." Her parents knew she was sleeping with Bass but she'd also never thought she'd be bringing him home to share her room. "Though if we're not getting our cars. . . ."

"Someone will take you." Nora gestured at the probably twenty emergency vehicles cluttering up their street. It would be a perfect target, Charlie realized, but they'd also not all arrived until a bomb-unit had gone through with robots, a dog trained to detect explosives and a cranky-looking man with a device that he'd been careful no one had seen the screen.

"Can I go up and pack some stuff?" Bass asked and Nora nodded.

"Let me check to make sure they're done inside too."

It was another thirty minutes before the team was finished with the house and they were let back inside, though Charlie wondered sardonically why they weren't allowed to just take the same path back that they'd taken down. She grabbed the clothes she'd brought with her and her computer while Bass packed an overnight bag with a few changes of clothes and toiletries. His face was grim when she tried to hand him the shotgun but he shook his head.

"Why don't you go ahead and keep that for a bit," he said. "I'm probably just being paranoid. But if they know Miles well enough to know what that car means to him, they may know about his family too."

"Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean their not out to get you?" she asked, knowing it was one of his favorite expressions and she was rewarded by a brief flash of a smile.

"Exactly. Maybe," his voice went hesitant for a moment. "Maybe we'd be better off not staying at your parents house."

For a moment Charlie almost agreed with him but she felt her stomach clench. "And if someone is so determined to strike at Miles to hit his family. . .I think I'd rather be there."

"Put like that, you might be right."

She passed Miles on the stairs and her uncle stopped to pull her into a tight hug. "Sorry you're having to deal with this, Kid."

"Call it total immersion training for my future job," she said, which at least drew a smile from him.

"That's one way to look at it."

"I assume this has something to do with that murder/arson case you and Nora were looking at. The one you thought might be tied to an older case?"

Her uncle's jaw tightened. "Could be. Which means something I'm doing rattled him. I just have to figure out what it was I did. But I WILL find whoever it is."

"No one murders Miles Matheson's car gets away with it," she teased and he shrugged and sighed.

"Something like that. I really liked that car too," he added. "There weren't that many 1967s out there and finding another one is going to be a bitch."

"And the 1966 is no good because it just has an automatic transmission, not the selectable automatic/manual option of the 1967," Charlie quoted and Miles' weary face flashed a grin. "Yeah, I've heard you debate it often enough I can probably quote a lot of the differences between the years of GTOs."

The house was dark when Charlie climbed out of the patrol car but Danny met her at the door.

"Hey," her brother greeted her. "I got your text. You and Bass have a fight? Oh," her brother peered around her. "Hey, Bass. Charlie, why are you getting dropped off by the police?" He leaned close and sniffed at her and she batted him back.

"No," she hissed. "I'm not being dropped off because I was arrested."

"Well that's about the only other explanation I could think of," Danny deadpanned. "If you two were fighting you wouldn't have brought him here. Because I can't think of a single other reason why you'd want to abandon his house in the middle of the night."

"Not my problem your imagination doesn't extend to someone blowing up Miles' car and the bomb squad prefers to have us out of the house while they conduct a more thorough inspection and collect all the evidence. Not that there is much left of Miles' car to collect."

Danny's eyebrows were raised and he glanced between them, before he frowned. "Charlie, are you holding a shotgun?"

"Yeah. Bass has a rifle too. You know, just in case."

Danny stood back as they walked inside, the bolted the door behind them. "Well, it certainly sounds like you two have had an interesting night."

"Yeah," Charlie yawned. "At least the asshat had the courtesy of doing it on a weekend so I don't have a class to get to. But I do have a research paper draft due Monday and I'm a little behind."

"I don't suppose it's on car bombs," her brother teased and Bass snorted.

"No. Glass fragment evidence."

She slept late, waking to a tight bladder that drove her out of bed and a growling stomach that ensured she wasn't going to be rushing back to it anytime soon. The other side of the bed was empty, the pillow dented and cold. She brushed her teeth while she was in the bathroom, noting Bass' toothbrush in the cup she and Danny used to store theirs.

Bass was seated at the kitchen table, a notebook at his right hand and a cup of coffee scenting their air by his left.

"Hey, Charlie," Rachel greeted her from the stove. "Can I make you something?"

"Nah. Well, you can pour me some coffee if there is any more." She pulled a tub of granola from the cupboard and snagged the milk from the fridge while Rachel filled a mug for her.

"Bass was telling me about your adventures last night. Sounds terrifying." Rachel actually sounded more wistful than scared and Charlie hid a smile. She'd been anxious enough, but she'd not actually been afraid, which surprised her a little until she reflected that she'd gotten 'adrenaline junkie' from both sides of her DNA.

"It had its moment," she replied, taking a sip of the coffee with a grateful sigh. "Sorry to just barge in like this."

"Charlie, I know you're barely ever here but this is still technically your home," Rachel said.

"It's not like I pay rent," Charlie teased. She and her brother had both offered but her parents were adamant that since the house was paid off, they didn't mind continuing to provide rent-free living while their kids were still in school. Charlie was fairly certain that it was also because Rachel was worried that Charlie would reason that if she was paying rent, she might as well pay it to live on her own. There was a measure of truth to that, though she and her mother had been getting on surprisingly well lately and Charlie realized a lot of that was probably due to the fact that being with Bass had calmed much of her erratic emotions. It wasn't having a man in her life that had done it; most boyfriends had left her more edgy that being single. But with Bass she felt genuinely happy.

"I think," Bass said, clearing his throat, "that Charlie means because of me."

"Bass, you're family too. How many times in the last decade have you crashed here." Rachel hastened to assure him but he gave her a wry grin.

"Yes, but Miles was with me. And I didn't sleep in the spare room last night."

They'd both been too tired when they'd finally fallen into bed to do anything but wrap around each other and sleep but Bass had clung tightly to her, as if afraid she might be snatched away from him.

Rachel inhaled, then shrugged. "Well, I can't say I generally approve of Charlie bringing guys back here. But it's not like Ben and I don't know what's going on between you two." Rachel shook her head. "And this does count as an extraordinary circumstance."

"Yeah." Bass' phone buzzed and he pulled it out, reading a message. "That's Nora. She wants to know if we can go down to the office. The investigator assigned to the case wants us to sign the official statements from what we told him last night."

"Is there time for me to get a shower?" Charlie asked and Bass shook his head. "They're hoping to get it done as soon as possible. Technically we should have had to have done it last night but they were so busy going over everything they let it slide and since they knew Miles would make sure it got done."

"Well, I'm at least going to put on real clothes," Charlie commented and Bass rose, his flannel pajama pants riding low on hips and the ancient Marine Corps t-shirt looking every one of it's at least eight years.

"Now that you mention it, that's probably a good idea."

The tired looking woman in the white lab coat handed the detective a file and Charlie tried not to stare but the woman glanced her way and smiled. "Charlie Matheson?"

Charlie stood from her seat and walked over to take the hand the woman offered her. "Stella Martin?"

Stella had been the one who'd shown her around the lab that day she had brought Miles his notebook and she'd been so fascinated by the evidence technician's job that she's switched her major because of it.

"Well, it's actually Stella Holden now."

"Ah. Marriage or divorce."

"Divorce. And before you say "I'm sorry, this was definitely one of the 'congratulations' divorces."

She'd seen Stella a few times since she'd decided on her career field but the other woman had always been overwhelmed with requests from the detectives at the time that they'd barely gotten to do more than exchange smiles and quick hellos.

"So I hear from your uncle you're still thinking forensic pathology."

'I am. I have almost two years left." Her late decision on her major meant she'd spend several semesters taking classes that didn't apply to her major, even if they counted for general credits. Being a Matheson had advantages in that she was able to take 20 credits without feeling burnt out and the math and science concept that boggled many of her classmates seemed like just basic facts to her. Her memory was nowhere near photographic but numbers seemed to arrange themselves in patterns for her.

"I didn't realize you were a junior already. If you're a junior, the department will allow your university to put in a request for an internship. And I won't lie, I could use a few interns right now. I was barely keeping above water as it was and now I have a few thousand car parts to tag. And they haven't even finished the cleanup at your Uncle's house yet."

"Yeah, that sounds great. I. . .could I do the car parts?"

"Hmm....maybe not. In fact, I'm almost sure you couldn't since you were there when it happened. But you could do other things while I did the car parts."

"I'd still love to see it," Charlie told her. "Even if I can't do anything. I mean, i saw them scattered around the lawn and I remember thinking there had to be more bigger pieces.

Stella snorted. "It's going to take me days to get everything sorted out and tagged. I had to take over one of the bays in the maintenance shop just to house them." She glanced at the tired-looking detective who was reading through the file he'd handed her before he signed a piece of paper and handed it back it to her. "Detective Hudson, do you still need Charlie?"

He scrubbed his hands over his eyes, yawning. Since he was wearing the same clothes as last night, Charlie was pretty sure he'd not even gotten any sleep. "She's signed her statement so we're good. Actually," he looked at the paper Bass passed over to him, "I'm done with them both."

"Do you have to get back right away?" Charlie asked. They'd borrowed Ben's car since the detective had asked for one more day and night with the house and cars, just to make sure he'd gotten everything he could from it.

He grinned at her, waving his hand absently. "I've got all day. I think I'll go pester Miles for a bit so take your time."

Stella let her through the building and across a gated parking lot filled with patrol cars and a few sports cars that looked like the sort of vehicle used in a speed trap. There was a four-bay garage and Stella unlocked one of the roll-up doors. Chain link barriers separated each of the bays into individual cages and Stella sighed. "The mechanics are bitching about having to give up one of their bays.

Stella hadn't been kidding, Charlie realized, about the mound of parts. The axles were sitting off to one side but there was a mound of blackened parts and large cardboard tri-wall filled with smaller parts that were labeled and sealed in plastic.

"Pity you can't just dump them all in a box under one label," Charlie commented. "Rather than bagging each one."

"I know, right. I tried to suggest that but. . .well, you know how it is. At least I have one of the bomb techs who has to help me with it because I'll be honest, when is a piece of wiring part of a bomb and when is it just random car-wiring?"

Charlie laughed, taking the gloves Stella handed her and sliding her hands into them. "Can I go ahead and touch them," she said, pointing at blackened chunk of possibly a brake-drum. Or perhaps it was part of a head-gasket. It was hard to tell.

"Be my guest. We're still looking for 'evidence' in it but it's still mostly just burned chunks of metal."

"Any idea what did it?"

"They were originally thinking tannerite. But tannerite usually takes a bullet to set if off and so far we've not found anything. Hence why I'm still doing this. But again, it could have been pretty much destroyed in the explosion or maybe melted into another chunk of metal and we've missed it already. No idea. The lab promises to have the results of the explosive panel back within four days but they're already so backlogged no one is holding their breath. Shit." Stella had yanked on something that Charlie guessed was part of a strut and it started a small avalanche of parts.

The smaller pieces had been covering part of the front grill, blackened and charred and Charlie stared at it, feeling a growing sense of discomfort. It was about time she had some sort of reaction, she decided and she tried not to laugh as Stella growled a few more curse words and tossed the pieces back on top of the grill.

"And this is pretty much how my morning has gone. Meanwhile, my four other cases are getting backlogged as well. My co-workers are helping out as much as they can but we're all backlogged. See what I mean about wanting interns."

"I can put out the word at school," Charlie said. "Most everyone is trying to find something paid, thought. I'm the lucky one who doesn't have student loans or a budget for living expenses." Ben and Rachel had set up college funds for her and Danny when they had been born and continued to contribute to them, even though they'd gotten part-time teaching positions at multiple universities around the country and were on the boards of several global engineering companies. They'd gifted the college funds to each of their children on their 18th birthdays but Charlie rarely tapped into anything beyond the interest that she used for spending money.

"Yeah, that's the problem. We don't offer anything paid."

Charlie was just turning away when the feeling on unease coalesced, low in her gut and the whipped back around to stare at the front grill. "Can you pull that grill back out for me, please?"

Stella frowned in puzzlement but she brushed a few of the other parts aside and lifted the grill from the stack. It was a decent-size piece -- probably two feet long by a little over a foot wide. A little of the chrome shone through but most of it was pitted and dull but Charlie felt her heart contract.

"And this was Miles' car? Are you absolutely sure this was Miles' car?"

"Brought in from the scene so yeah. Unless there was another car there we didn't know about. Why?"

Her gloved fingers traced the divots of twisted metal but there was no mistaking the fact that there were dual curves that mirrored each other in an arch. The color of the metal between them was no longer discernible but the shape wasn't from melting. . .it had been manufactured that way.

"See this. . .where these are two separate pieces?"

"Yeah?" Stella didn't actually ask what was significant about it but Charlie heard the question in the other woman's tone."

"In 1967 this piece of metal didn't go all the way down. They replaced the split grill with one that shared chrome on both sides."

Stella inhaled a deep breath. "Sure it's not just from being melted?" But she was taking the piece of grill from Charlie, tracing the same curves. "What year was your uncle's car?"

"1967."

The woman snorted slightly as she set the piece of metal back down on the pile.

"You sure about this?"

"You spend time with Miles Matheson and actually pay attention, you know the difference between the 1967 and the other years of the GTO. Has Miles been in here yet?"

"I don't think so. But the VIN. . .we found the VIN plate and it matched the registration we pulled for Miles' car. . .Fuck." She sounded unusually bitter.

"What?"

"It was a little weird to find the VIN plate not attached to anything. A piece of metal that small and an explosion that large. . .it shouldn't have detached it without melting it. There was some warping but I remember thinking it looked odd." She walked over to a bench and pulled a bag with a red plastic tie. "I put it aside to show the tech when he got back in but he's been in meetings. I thought it might be related to how they placed the explosives. She snorted. "Shame to get your Uncle's hopes up if this really is his car. Remember any other things off the top of your head."

"A few." She pulled her phone out. "But I know a few places where we can find a whole lot more."

It took them two hours to lay out enough parts to be reasonable sure they were looking at what was most likely a 1966 GTO before Stella called Detective Hudson in to come look at what they'd found. Stella laid out her information like she was an expert on cars -- by now she almost was, Charlie figured. Hudson frowned through most of it, shaking his head.

"Are you completely sure?" he asked, glancing back and forth between the lay-out of the car parts; grill, pieces of the transmission and taillights and the web-page Stella had been using for reference.

"Reasonably. Enough to bring you down here. The only one who can really say for certain is Detective Matheson, of course. But you've been assigned this case and I wanted to give you the information first."

Hudson signed heavily, his skin looking gray under his dark complexion. "Thanks, Stella. Good catch."

"It was all Charlie's doing," Stella said. "I doubt before now I could have told the difference in the GTO and a GMC."

He barked a laugh, turning to smile at her. "You're Miles' niece, aren't you."

"Yeah," she said. "Give yourself some credit, Stella, you certainly knew enough to know that wasn't just a standard automatic transmission."

Stella looked a little smug, rubbing a smudge on her cheek against her shoulder. "Well, I have been doing this a few years. I know the parts. . .just not what was on what year and make."

Hudson shook his head. "Yeah, I probably would have missed that too. . .well, you two want to be there when I tell Miles his car might not be dead after all?"

"Hell yes," Stella laughed. "I didn't get this crap all over my clothes just for my health."

Miles, Nora and Bass were passing cardboard cartons of noodles across Miles' desk that was covered in files and Bass grinned at her.

"There you are. I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to come up for air. Or in this case, food."

Miles jerked his head at her in greeting as he handed a file over to Bass. "I still say this one."

Bass shook his head. "No. I admit, classic scumbag. Not above burning bodies, no. But the strike on your car was very personal. This guy hides in shadows. Anyone who did this had to know they were sending an invitation for you to get very involved in their lives and this guy doesn't want that."

"He's got a point, Miles," Nora agreed, holding up another carton of noodles. "Charlie, these are yours."

"Thought this was my case, Matheson," Hudson said, his voice mild but there was a tiny hint of warning in it.

"The murder of my car is, yes," Miles agreed. "But since I suspect it was connected to three unsolved homicides that are assigned to me, I figure I still have some reason to be checking things out." He took another forkful of noodles.

"Murder of a car, yes," Hudson agreed, his face creasing into a smile. "But not actually your car."

"Huh?" Miles rapidly chewed, choking just slightly. "What do you mean?"

Hudson jerked his head at Stella. "I'll let the lab tech explain. Stella,"

"All the credit goes to Charlie on this one," Stella repeated, handing the laptop to Charlie that they'd used to upload all the digital photos. "You want to fill him in?"

Charlie grinned, setting the computer on top of the files and brought up the picture of the grill before reaching over to take the container of noodles from Nora. "Thanks. I didn't realize how hungry I was. You want some," she added belatedly but Stella shook her head. "Do you see it?"

Miles was frowning at the picture much like she was pretty sure she'd first stared at the grill but suddenly his mouth fell open. "Son of a bitch. Wait, could it have melted like that."

"It's charred," Stella added. "But not melted. And when you handle the actual grill you can feel the metal going all the way around. Clearly manufactured work."

Charlie flipped through the next pictures of the taillights, which earned another, "Son of a bitch," from Miles.

Stella reached out and tapped the next picture forward while Charlie swallowed a mouthful of noodles. "This is a standard two-speed automatic transmission. Absolutely no indication of the hydramatic manual/automatic transmission. But we do have a VIN plate so someone tried very hard to make us think this was your car. And the paint we did recover does match the colors from the photos you gave us. At least close enough we didn't notice."

"So we're looking for someone who's trying to send you a message to back off a murder case but that likes cars?" Nora said, her brow raising. "That doesn't add up."

"No," Bass growled, "what doesn't add up is someone trying to send a message for a crime they're getting away with."

Miles had his face scrunched in frustration and he waved a hand. "No. That's what we were supposed to think." He set the remains of his noodle carton down on a clear spot on his desk. "Jim, since you're supposed to be handling the car-explosion angle, maybe you'd better bring him in. In fact, probably best you do because if he's done what I think he's done, someone has to keep me from killing the little rat."

Charlie finished her noodles while Miles and Jim Hudson used Hudson's desk to write the warrants. At her request, Miles logged on to his computer before he and Hudson went to go find a judge to sign them. Monroe leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed and a little amused "You want to head home?" he asked Charlie and she shook her head.

"Nope. But if you want to I can have Miles take me home."

"Nah." He leaned over to where he could see where Charlie was working on her paper. "You really do enjoy this stuff, don't you?"

"Of course," she replied. "I mean, I was interested in it before. But now. . .knowing that what I did might have made a difference in the case. I mean, sure, maybe I didn't get to help solve an actual murder. But if Miles isn't running down rabbit trails, maybe he'll be able to find the right suspect." She reached out to tap the file of the one Bass had been discounting when she'd first come in. "I mean, you said this guy was capable of burning bodies but not drawing attention to it by blowing up Miles' car. So Miles ignored him. But maybe he was the one who did the killings after all."

Bass' smile was warm and he came over to lean over her shoulder. "Damn, you're sexy when you talk like that," he whispered and she felt herself blush. "You forgot the comma there," Bass said, his voice normal, as he moved closer, fingers brushing the screen. There was a comma in the sentence, Charlie noticed and she was about to mention if when he used their proximity to brush a kiss against her ear as he moved back.

He looked like he was about to lean over and kiss her again for real when he straightened, standing. "Captain Kipling."

Charlie turned to see a tired-looking black man walking towards them and she stood up as well, recognizing the name of Miles' Captain, though she hadn't met him before. "Mr. Monroe. Nice to see you today. Sorry to hear about the disruption at your place last night. Though I understand it was a little more complicated than we first thought."

"Yes, Sir. This is Miles' niece. She's actually studying forensic science and hopes to work for the department one day. She's the one who noticed the car parts weren't actually from Miles' car."

The captain smiled at her. "Nice to meet you, Miss Matheson. Actually, Jim and Stella filled me in already. Well done. Hell of a resume entry, I must say. Stella's also said that you're willing to consider interning here?"

"Absolutely," Charlie said. "Thank you, Sir."

"Go ahead and call me Dave. I just Mr' Monroe him because I like jerking his chain. And because he won't stop Captain Kipling and Sir-ing me. Marines."

She grinned, ignoring Bass' grimace. "Well I'm Charlie. Not sure I care for the Miss Matheson stuff that much myself. I hope it's not a problem that I'm using Miles' computer," she said as he glanced over at the screen.

He shrugged, leaning over to read it. "No doubt IT would mind. I'm not IT. And considering you might have saved us countless man hours, I think you might have earned a little leeway. Besides, this appears to be a paper on glass-fragment evidence."

"It's due Monday. I wasn't counting on the bomb last night and I figured I had time to work on it now."

"Sounds good to me. If anyone has a problem, have them come talk to me. Oh, and if you need more time, I'd be happy to call your professors. I think the time you spent otherwise occupied today would be something they'd have a hard time arguing about."

"Thanks, but I had a lot of it done. Miles said he would see if we could watch the interrogation and I think I can get it finished before they get the guy back here. Assuming we can watch."

Captain Kipling shrugged. "That's up to Miles and Jim Hudson. If you're going to intern here, it'll be good experience. Monroe there already has his access because of his consulting work. If it wasn't a Saturday I'd have you run over to HR and do it. . .maybe if you have a chance you can come back in on Monday and we can do the paperwork."

"Not sure how long the school will take to get the internship request to you," Charlie said and he laughed.

"Go ahead and do it anyway. That's just the school part so you can get credit for it. As soon as you sign the confidentiality agreements and liability waiver, I'm fine with you starting whenever. I'm assuming you'll pass the background check?"

It was Charlie's turn to snort. "Miles would kill me if I didn't."

"Good. I'll get Hudson to do it. His case load is suddenly a lot lighter than it was a few hours ago. If you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your paper. I'm sure I've got captain-y things to do." Charlie snorted, pretty sure he was referencing a TV show that Miles and Bass loved. She'd had very little interest in the "space cowboy" concept they'd described but she'd asked for them to watch it with her to be able to spend time with Bass but she'd loved it enough she'd made Danny watch it with her and it remained one of their favorites.

Bass' snort and "have fun, Captain Reynods," told her she'd guessed correctly and Kipling flashed them a grin before heading away from the desk.

Nora came back and flopped into her chair. Her desk and Miles' faced each other and she leaned around her computer to smile at Charlie. "Warrant got approved. They're headed to go pick up Carter now. What a mess." She brushed dark hair out of her face. "Though if we can get Miles' car back. . . ."

"You mean maybe he won't be so moody," Bass teased and Nora shook her head.

"Fuck. Last time I saw him this morose was Pendleton." She shot a guilty look at Charlie, who waved it away.

"You are allowed to talk about Pendleton. Well, as long as you don't start giving me details." Bass and Nora both grimaced and Charlie grinned at them. "I swear, the more uncomfortable you two are about it, the funnier I think it is."

Charlie buried herself back in her paper, vaguely aware Nora and Bass were re-evaluating the stack of files spread between Nora and Miles' desk.

She felt comfortable there, Charlie realized, the hum of conversation from nearby desks washing over her. Most of the men and women wore business casual, though there was the occasional uniform, but they mostly wore pistols holstered at their hip or shoulder.

"Techs don't carry guns, do they," Charlie said, glancing around and Bass looked up to shake his head.

"They're considered non-sworn members of the department," Nora said. "Only sworn members carry in here." Miles had met Bass and Charlie at the door when they'd arrived and checked their guns with security before they had entered the building.

"So what's it take to be sworn?" Charlie asked and Bass looked up from the file he was checking.

"Thinking of changing your major again?" he asked mildly but she noticed he looked tense.

Nora smiled at her, leaning forward. "Could you do it? Absolutely. You've got brains and you've got guts both. Charlie, you'd be a great cop. But in some ways you'd be wasted. Now, I'm not saying the department doesn't need great cops, because they do. However, look at what you were able to do today with the evidence. I wouldn't have realized that. It's entirely possible even Miles would have just looked at the whole pile and not the individual pieces. So yeah, if you really want to be a cop, go for it. But as a cop, I'd be proud to serve with you. But I'd be even happier, knowing you had my back and that whatever crap gets left at a crime scene actually gets taken care of in a way that gives me what I need to get a suspect."

She watched Bass gradually relax at Nora's speech and she looked at him. "What do you think?"

"I think that whatever you decide to do, I'll support you," he answered and her return smile was a little sharp.

"That's a bullshit answer, Bass."

He snorted and rubbed a hand over his face. "Fine. I KNOW that whatever you decide I'll support you." He hesitated but spoke again before she could protest that was no better answer than his last one. "But I'd rather you worked in evidence. I know it's wrong of me to ask it of you but I'd sleep a lot better at night if I didn't have to worry about you. But if you want to do it, I'd get used to it."

She reached out for his hand and he linked their fingers together. "So you're not going to want this awesome, cool girlfriend who arrests people for a living?"

"How about," his thumb massaged her palm, "this awesome, cool girlfriend who makes sure the arrest sticks because the evidence is good. That's plenty sexy for me." His expression went serious. "But Charlie, if this is what you want."

She smiled at him. "I think I'm in love with the world more than I am the idea of actually being a police officer. I'll have time to decide before I finish school. And this intern thing should be good for me. Let me figure out what I really want."

"You'll find," Nora said, her voice wry, "that what people think we do, and what we actually do, is not the same thing. Wait til you see how much paperwork we have to do all the time."

She was just finishing her draft -- she'd definitely have to go over it again, Charlie knew -- when Miles and Jim Hudson walked through, a slender blond man in handcuffs between them. Miles waved at Nora and she stood. "Showtime. Bass, you and Charlie go ahead and get comfortable in the observation room. Let's see what we can do."

Bass motioned for Charlie to wait while Nora followed Miles and Jim into a room along the wall that she had assumed was another office or a closet. She saw a quick flash of a desk and some chairs before they closed it behind them and Bass stood and gestured for her to follow.

He took her to the door next to the one Miles had gone through and shut it quietly behind him. The room they were in was dark and close but it had a view into what was the other room -- one-way glass, Charlie realized.

"Can he hear us?" she whispered and Bass shook his head.

"Not unless we talk really loud." His voice was normal pitch but he had kept it low and she scooted her chair over so their shoulders brushed. It was a cheap, molded-plastic chair with no arms so she was able to lean slightly against Bass and he linked their fingers together.

The blonde man had handcuffs that were chained to the middle of the desk, facing the window. Nora and Jim were sitting in front of him, their backs to Charlie. Miles was leaning against the wall, near the door, looming a little.

"This is all a mistake," the man said and Nora laughed.

"I'll believe that. Says here, Mr. Bentley, that you're on probation. You have a no-weapons restriction. But we found quite a nice rifle at your shop."

"It's my brother's. He left it there by accident. I didn't even realize it was there." The man sounded sullen and cranky, shoulders hunched like he was irritated and bored. "Call him. He'll tell you so."

"So what about the explosive residue the dog found?" Jim asked.

"Don't know anything about that. Maybe your dog was wrong. Or I don't know. I work on cars. All sorts of stuff in my shop could be considered explosive. All kinds of torches and shit."

"Funny," Miles said, buffing his nails on his shirt and appearing to talk to no one in particular. "I go see you a few weeks ago about a card for your shop I find on a victim. You offer to buy my car. Say you've got a client who'd pay top dollar for it. Then a few weeks later my car gets blown up. But funny. When we start checking the pieces, we find that's not my car. Where'd you get the '66, Carter?"

"What '66? Not sure what you're talking about, Detective Matheson. Something happened to your car?"

"We're testing the residue we found at your shop," Nora cut in. "When it comes back positive for tannerite, you're going to have a lot more explaining to do."

"You come clean now," Hudson growled, "I'll get you for straight UUMV. That's a few more years, yeah. But you make us work for it and I'll throw in the weapons charge, the explosion, public endangerment, conspiracy, fraud. All kinds of lovely stuff."

Charlie watched the man wilt and Nora leaned forward, her voice suddenly perky. "Hey, you're getting a great deal here."

The man looked over at Miles and Charlie could see he was suddenly afraid and Miles snorted. "Carter, I get my car back and you and I will be cool."

"That won't be so easy," Carter whispered and Miles raised and eyebrow, walking over to the desk.

"What do you mean."

"You get pissed and put me in prison. Yeah, sucks to be me. I roll on this guy and he'll butcher me. And if I'm lucky he kills me first. If I'm not lucky. . . ." He trailed off but Charlie saw the fear in his face.

"Go on?" Miles sounded more curious than angry and Carter leaned over to rub his face on his shoulder.

"So this guy comes into my shop a few months ago. Put a heavy down payment down on a 1967. He wants the best. But as you know, they're tough to come by. I had a line on one but turns out the frame was bent to hell. Found that out after I spent the guys payment buying it. So I eat that, and buy another one. But the motor is shot on it. Turns out the motor wasn't the best on the first so I can't marry them up. I try to put something else in it but no, my buyer wants a straight 1967. No substitutions. By now I'm 30 grand into it and he's getting mad about his deposit. I offered to eat more and just give it back to him but he says it doesn't work that way. I promised him something and apparently people are suppose to honor their promises. I was getting desperate. Then you came in with that cherry of yours. I DID offer to buy it. In looking for a 1967 I came across a total piece of shit 1966. There wasn't suppose to be enough left of it to tell. I made sure to pry off and leave one of the VIN plates."

"So who is this guy?" Nora sounded friendly.

"No way. I tell you and --"

"And all I have to do," Hudson said, "is pull the DMV files on who registers a GTO. You tell me now and we'll make sure he understands you're off limits. We have to wait for those files and I'll tell him you rolled on him so fast."

"Fine," Carter snapped. "Not that it matters. Off limits or not, I don't think he'll care. And he made very sure he's got plausible deniability on that car of yours. Guy's name is William Strausser. He runs a butcher shop down off 43rd. Remember what I said about butchering? I didn't pick that term at random."

"So tell me, Carter, why didn't you just blow up one of the bad 1967s?" Miles asked and Carter grimaced.

"Well, I actually did manage to find buyers for both of them. Not what I had into them, but a little something to keep the wolf from the door. You know how it is. Like I said, wasn't supposed to be enough of the '66 left. Though I was trying not to use enough to blow up the house too." He glared at Miles. "That might have been a mistake."

"Might have been," Hudson agreed. "Name on the shop?"

"I don't remember. Never been to his shop. He just talks about it. It's kind of creepy, actually."

Charlie and Bass went back to Miles desk. It was close to seven in the evening and she called her father, leaving a voice mail that they were tied up at the station when Ben didn't answer his phone. She hoped her father had meant it when he said he didn't need his car that day.

She heard Jim Hudson's side of the conversation as he'd explained to whoever had answered the phone that there was a problem with the car he'd just bought. Hudson thanked whoever it was and shrugged at Miles. "Looks like we don't need a warrant with this one. He volunteered to come down himself."

"Hope he brings my car," Miles grumbled. It was less than an hour later when a uniformed officer escorted a man to Jim's desk and Hudson stood, gesturing him towards the interrogation room. He waved at Miles but this time Nora stayed seated until the door closed and then she went with Charlie and Bass to the observation room.

In the time they'd been waiting, Nora had ran a check of Strausser and found that though he was flagged as a suspected career criminal he actually had a clean background,which, she explained, was worse since that meant he was smart and careful and they couldn't threaten him with revoking his probation.

Strausser was seated across the table from Jim and Miles but he wasn't handcuffed. "So I understand there is an issue with my car," he said. "What seems to be the problem."

"Mr. Strausser," Hudson sounded warm. "We have reason to believe the car you were sold has an altered VIN. Would you be willing to have it inspected."

Strausser lifted a set of keys and placed them on the table. "Of course." Miles carried them to the door and handed them off to someone standing outside.

Nora hissed. "No wonder this guy has no record. He's one of the types that cooperates. Picks his battles. Smart. Sneaky-smart."

He might have just been a nice guy, Charlie reflected for a moment, then got a good glimpse of William Strausser's smile and eyes. No, she decided, this was not a nice person. She felt herself shiver and Bass looped an arm around her shoulders. He was tense too, she realized.

"I must admit, I found the timing a little suspicious. I'd been trying to get Carter Bentley to find me a GTO for months. I was threatening to require my deposit back when he found that car. It seemed. . .well, the timing seemed a little fortuitous. I hope it's not true, though. It's a magnificent car." He was talking directly at Miles. He knew the whole story, Charlie realized, and knew Miles knew.

"We'll of course see that Mr. Bentley returns your money. But he'll be going to prison for a few years connected with this." Hudson said, his voice low. "It would be a shame if something. . .happened. . .to him."

Strausser smirked. "Carter Bentley has an overactive imagination. I might have made a few threats when I was upset. But of course, nothing I'd be following up on."

"No, of course," Hudson said pleasantly. "And we can understand words spoke in the heat of the moment of a bad business deal. As long as that's as far as it goes."

"Of course," Strausser said and Charlie shivered again.

"He's going to kill him, isn't he?" she whispered at Nora but Nora shook her head.

"No. Bentley's an inconvenience. Guys like that don't waste themselves on an inconvenience. Besides, I knot the type. They get off on people fearing them.

"So how's the butcher business?" Miles asked. "Must be pretty good if you can afford a 1967 GTO."

Strausser shrugged. "It's pretty decent. My father passed it on to me. He believed in his knives. Never would have an electric saw in the place. Said a good butcher didn't need it. I find that plenty of people respect the old ways. Willing to pay just a little more for something done right."

One of the uniformed officers walked into the room. "Excuse me, Detective Hudson. We finished the inspection. The VIN plate matches his paperwork but the three other VINS on the vehicle have all been removed. It looks like recent marks.

Strausser shrugged when Hudson handed him key ring and took a single car key off it and slid it across to Miles. "Detective Matheson. I'm very sorry for the trouble. Perhaps one of you would be so kind as to call me a cab."

"We'll have someone take you home," Miles said, tucking the key in his pocket.

"Is that it?" Charlie whispered. "He knew it was Miles' car. They never told him there."

"Tough to prove in court," Nora whispered back. "I doubt a receiving stolen property charge would stick anyway."

They were standing, Jim Hudson had walked out already and Strausser smiled at Miles.

"Detective, a moment, if you don't mind." Miles stopped walking and shut the door with Hudson on the other side.

"Mr. Strausser?" Her uncle sounded almost too polite and Charlie could hear the irritation behind it.

"I appreciate your courtesy in this matter. In fact, I had some information I wasn't sure what to do with but now. . ." He paused and smiled.

Nora sank back in the seat she'd been in the process of vacating.

"Go on?" Strausser had Miles' complete attention, Charlie realized.

"I understand you visited Mr. Carter a few weeks ago regarding a body found in a house that had been burned that had his card on it?"

"Yeah." Miles didn't ask how he knew and Charlie leaned forward slightly. "You know anything about it."

"I wasn't involved, if that's what you mean. But if I recall, the murder took place about the same time I first introduced myself to Mr. Bentley to try to find a car. There was a man in his shop that day who was asking a lot of questions about my shop. Strange questions like what would happen if someone took a body to a butcher shop. Said he was just curious but he had a lot of specific questions for someone curious. And he seemed very disappointed when I told him I didn't have saws at my shop. Asked me if I was sure or if I would ever get any. In the end of the conversation he said that I wasn't the only one who could do things the old-fashioned way and he supposed he could too. . .said he wanted to do something new this time but he guessed it wasn't an option."

"Would you be willing to identify?" Miles asked and Strausser smiled, the expression pleasant yet bitter at the same time.

"I see no reason why not. Not sure what it would mean since he could claim they were just general questions."

Miles shrugged. "They might. But I've been spinning in circles here. I have a few possible suspects but haven't been able to lean on any of them as hard as I'd like because I don't have the leverage. Now, if I knew who was looking to get rid of a body around then, it might just help me out a little."

"I'd prefer not to have to go to court if I could help it."

Miles nodded. "I can't promise. Do me a favor. Come look at a couple of pictures at my desk. If it's someone I'm already looking at, that might be enough. If not, maybe we get you to sit down with a sketch artist. If I get what I need, I'll try not to even bring it back to you at all."

"That's fair," Strausser said. He and Miles exited the interrogation room together.

"That," Nora said softly, "is why you don't waste someone like that on a theft by receiving charge. And that's why Miles does such a great job with the psychopaths. For some reason they're drawn to him. He gets more odd information. . .. " She stood but made no move towards the door.

It had to be almost ten minutes later before Miles came into the observation room holding a file, a huge grin on his face. "This," he announced as he bent over to give Charlie a kiss on the cheek, "has to be one of the best days ever. I get my car back. And look." He turned the file to face out and Charlie felt her eyebrows raise. It was the guy they'd been talking about when she'd first come in with Stella and Hudson, the one Bass had said would probably burn bodies but not blow up a car.

"He picked him out in about two seconds. Knew his name though it wasn't showing anywhere and what kind of car he drove and a few other personal details. Got you now, you bastard." He grimaced. "Or I will after I start looking at him for real. Which I'm sad to say will probably not be until tomorrow because I'm going on three hours sleep and adrenaline. Bad time to make important decisions." Nora nodded in agreement and Miles grinned, holding up the key. "But look I get to take my car home. My car. Charlie, thank you. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have a car. Or a suspect." He added the last like an afterthought.

"Well I'm riding with you then," Nora said. "Because my car is still at your house being gone-over with a fine-tooth comb."

"Oh, yeah, Bass, we can go back into our house tonight and the cars have been cleared. Carter confirmed the other car was the only thing. He drove up in the 1966, which apparently barely ran, popped my lock, hot-wired it, parked the 1966 where mine was, drove mine off, got to the end of the street and took his shot. He said he had about 85 pounds of tannerite in it.

"Did we hear a shot?"

"He was at the end of the street. Neighbors probably heard it but I doubt we did -- wind was going the other way. No doubt Jim would have read about it when he had to go through all the neighbors statements that the uniforms got. Shot was from about 300 meters. He's proud of that. I hated to tell him shooting a car from 300 meters away isn't a big deal. Hell, it's Army standard."

"How'd he get the key made so quick?" Charlie asked and Miles looked ashamed.

"He found the spare I'd left in the glove box. I'd used it one day because I couldn't find my set. . .turned out they were in a coat I'd left in the car. I tossed the spare in the box and forgot about it."

"Good going," Nora mocked. "You ready?"

"Yeah." Miles hugged Charlie again, fist-bumped Bass and followed Nora.

Charlie pulled Ben's keys from her pocket and jangled them. "You want me to drop you off at your house before I take Dad his car back. I'll have him bring me over tomorrow to get my car."

Bass wrapped his arm around her. "We could do that. I know you have that paper you need to finish."

"Well, it's pretty much done. It could use a little light editing but the important stuff is all done."

"Then why don't you drop me at my house, I follow you home and take you back with me."

She smiled at him. "You want to do that?" Bass leaned over, kissing her gently then deepening it until their tongues were sliding together. His erection was against her hip and she moved against it to hear him groan. "Well," she whispered, pulling away. "When you put it that way."

"Well," he looked away, his voice casual. "After all, my toothbrush is at your house."

"Well," she said, matching his tone. "We all know how important oral hygiene is." She honestly hadn't meant anything by it but he started to laugh and she did too, feeling her face flushing. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "That's what makes it funny. And yeah, after a comment like that, I'm definitely not sleeping alone tonight."