by Mary Rice

Created on: July 13, 2009   Last Updated: December 08, 2009

Things had been quiet, maybe too quiet. Thaedra was off again, removing more of the drug cartel single handedly. Peyton still had trouble wrapping his head around that but, she was a big girl and capable of holding her own. It seemed natural for her to be around almost constantly, rendering his poor house chip-less and him cover-less half the time.

Another typical sort of day, save that the usual morning patrol that he volunteered to do didn't need to be done. Instead he headed to his office, checking in with Missie on the way there. No more dead waterfowl on his desk, thankfully. That had been a hell of a mess, he thought, blood and feathers everywhere not to mention a hysterical Missie and chewed out security. Two weeks had passed with no repeats. Taking off for a week or so had done the trick, apparently. He parked the BMW in a far spot, locked it and headed up to the office.

Missie handed him a cup of coffee and a stack of messages with a grin as he walked in. Morning Boss.

He looked at the messages and quirked a brow at her. No Good with that morning? I'm worried.

Missie laughed an shook her head. I know better and even if I had said it, you'd go through messages and it would be wasted.

Peyton rolled his eyes with a chuckle and took messages and coffee into his office, kicking the door shut behind him.

It was almost lunch time when he sighed and leaned back in the chair. Missie had been right, he thought absently rubbing the bridge of his nose, good would have been wasted. After reading the messages, he'd returned a handful of calls, then dug out two files and had begun to try and sort through them. One of the problems of being good at things is that then people come to you with anything that might possibly be related to what you are good at. Unfortunately the police department is as prone to that as anyone, thus he had two files that had been dug out of the cold cases and handed to him in the hope that maybe, just maybe he could see something in them that had been missed. About once a week he dug them out and plowed through them, with no results thus far. He shoved them away and groaned mentally as the phone rang. Please, please don't let it be something stupid or annoying, he thought.

The intercom chirped softly, Boss.. you need to take the call on line two Missie's voice sounded odd. He sat up, glared at the phone before snatching up the handset and poking the button. Line two was the one reserved for those that really knew him, so when Missie said

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