Case Solved

"Here. Take these."
In the S4 offices once again, Jace and Rosie accepted the files from Dr. Welch without a word.
"This is new information which may help to bring the case to a close."

Jace nodded.

Rosie pushed a hairpin back into place.

The S4 office was silent.

Dr. Welch cleared his throat. "Very well," with that, he exited the office.

As soon as the door was shut behind him, the fellow detectives broke into grins.
"He hates it when we do that," Jace chuckled. He began to flip through his file. Rosie laughed in response.
"It impresses him," she said.
"He thinks it's a sign of our focus."
"At least we have that going for us," Rosie replied.
"It's a start," Jace agreed.

The mind-games Jace and Rosie played with the heads of Scotland Yard varied and were many.
They had both realized long ago that maintaining a cool, calm exterior could intimidate many people into observing a control and knowledge which may or may not truly have been present.
Since almost the first time they had worked together, Jace and Rosie had been convinced of each others abnormal abilities; and both had seen that their abilities worked best when combined.
Without discussing it, but with each knowing what the other was doing, they set about convincing others of their superior talents. They had soon found that complete comprehension was what impressed Dr. Welch above everything, and silence conveyed that comprehension in a way that words never could.

Rosie smiled softly to herself.
She loved being a detective.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty-four hours later Rosie was sick of studying the file. The sun was shining for once in the normally fog-ridden city, and she was frustrated with being cooped-up inside the stuffy office. She sighed and closed her eyes. There had to be an answer somewhere. She looked out one of the office windows. She just wanted to get out of that place.
Suddenly, an emotion--not her own--flashed through her.
Her eyes narrowed.
She turned to Jace.


"What?" She said accusingly. She was irritated. Jace raised an eyebrow.
"You've got a theory--a rather concrete one at that. What is it?"
Jace had too much self-possession to be startled by this declaration, but he was slightly surprised. He hadn't said more than a few words to her all day.

Rosie crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "If you think it was the uncle who orchestrated the whole thing, and not the father, why haven't you have told me?" She unfolded her arms and reached for her ever present cup of coffee.
"We're supposed to be working this case together." She took a sip and looked at Jace--waiting for an answer.

Jace now had both eyebrows raised. So she came to the same conclusion....
"Exactly," he said, ignoring the question and going straight to the theory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forty-five minutes later Dr. Welch was quickly passed in the hall by two very intent detectives.

They failed to see the smile playing about his lips.

And he failed to see theirs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was cold.
It was dark.
It was a stakeout.
It was Rosie's first, but Jace's second--a fact that did not sit well with Detective Tracer's competitive senses.
In the time that slowly ticked by, Rosie resolved to someday even the score. Jace would not best her.

Rosie breathed out and watched it blend in with the London fog. She held back a laugh as she saw Jace, who had not observed her, do the same. Suddenly, the clicking and sliding of an opening door brought their complete attention to a shop across the street.

Jace nodded to Rosie.

Rosie turned and signaled to Callie Anne.

Callie Anne--an informant who had worked for Scotland Yard for many years--was standing in a doorway a little ways down and across the street. At Rosie's signal, she stepped away from the doorway and onto the sidewalk. The clicking of her shoes made an eerie sound in the night air.
Callie stopped to check something in her purse, then walked down the sidewalk, turning left into a dark alley.

The dark figure that stepped from another doorway was barely visible through the fog. Jace was the first to spot him, but the others--Rosie and the few officers hidden in the shadows--soon heard his muffled footsteps through the thick London fog.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning's newspaper headline read: "Scotland Yard Strikes Stalker." Jace and Rosie each bought two copies--one for their homes, and one for reading at the office.

Over the steaming coffee, above the morning paper, and across the S4 office, Rosie saw Jace smile. Rosie smiled too.

Jace set the paper down after reading the article for a third time. He walked over to the coffee-pot which always sat near the door, and poured other cup of coffee. Then he crossed the room, coffee-pot in hand, and, without a word, lifted Rosie's mug and refilled it.
"Do you realize," she said, "that they never mention our names? They simply say 'the detectives of Scotland yard.'"
"Yes," Jace answered carelessly, crossing the room to place the coffee-pot back on its stand. He said no more, and neither did Rosie. It didn't matter in the least to either of them.

They weren't in it for the fame.

Jace returned and seated himself at the edge of the desk. He took the paper from Rosie's hands. Rosie reached for her coffee.

"Who is Davis Nolder?" Jace asked after a moment.
"Who?"
"Officer Nolder," he repeated. "They seem to be singling him out."
"Oh. He was the first officer on the scene last night after you jumped the stalker."
"Oh. Right. Good cop. Seemed to have the routine down pat."
Rosie shook her head at the American slang. She took her paper back, folded it and put it away in a drawer--a signal that she was ready to get back to work.

A minute ticked by. Jace hadn't moved. Rosie bit her lip, refusing to smile as she looked his direction.
Jace sipped at his coffee.
He sipped at his coffee again.
He knew Rosie was looking at him, but he pretended not to see her.
Rosie looked away; she knew it was of no use. Jace had seated himself on her desk, and he was going to stay there until he tired of it.
Jace took an extremely audible sip of coffee. Rosie couldn't help herself, she looked back.
"Can I help you?" Jace didn't look at her, but continued looking across the office, seemingly lost in thought.
But Rosie saw the smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Jace. Get off of my desk."
"Oh." He turned and looked at her, a look of complete seriousness on his face. "Did you want to sit here?"
Rosie rolled her eyes and shook her head. He was impossible. She picked up some paperwork.

After a moment of silence Jace cleared his throat. A moment more passed before he spoke.
"Rosie...how did you know?"
"Know what?" Her heart gave a slight thump, but she feigned indifference. Jace hesitated, not certain of the correct wording.
"A thousand things, actually," he said. "My theory, the cab being down the street last night, the canceled Mass on Sarah's birthday--yeah, especially that one--about Governor Pray being connected with the stalker, about my cat...."
"You haven't got a cat."
Jace cocked his head to the side. "How did you know that?"
Rosie blinked at him.
"Exactly."
Detective Tracer laughed.
Detective Buntley smiled. For a moment he seemed to have let it slide, but after taking a sip a coffee, he said, "Rose. I'm serious. What is it?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cab hit another rut.

Nolder was driving again.

The jolt brought Rosie's mind back from the memories of so long ago-from the first case she and Jace had worked together.
Jace had been a different man back then. Youth had played a big part in that, Rosie supposed.
He had learned a lot since graduation from S4. Experience can be a sorrowful teacher. Perhaps that accounted for quite a bit of the tension she could feel coming from Jace, who was seated on the other side of the cab.

A tense smile touched Tracer's lips. She would never forget the look on Jace's face all of those years ago when she'd finally admitted to possessing psychic abilities.
The smile faded as she unconsciously compared their behavior from back then to their behavior now.
They had worked so well together--and had a good time doing it.

"Whoa, there, Charity!" Nolder called out, and the cab came to a stop.

Detective Tracer, Dr. Welch and Detective Buntley exited the cab and stood facing the Liverpool cathedral.

The Bishop was just inside.