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Lily: Something’s up with my dad

Ben: Is it a case?

Ben: A lot of the Intelligence cops get weird when they have a case that irks them

Griffin: “Irks?”

Ben: Shut up

Lily: No he’s had a pretty regular schedule this week

Lily: At least regular enough that everything he planned off work was done

Lily: Honestly he’s been a little weird since you guys visited

Ben: It wasn’t me

Ben: I barely interacted with him

Griffin: Neither did I

Griffin: Actually was there any point in our visit where we weren’t doing something together?

Ben: Well we got to see a bit of Sylvie’s paramedicine run

Ben: Lily wasn’t there for that

Lily: I wish I had been

Lily: That would have been so cool

Lily: Can I do it the next time she comes to Manhattan

Griffin: She’d probably say yes

Ben: Hang on I’ll ask her

Griffin: Then again it’s your dad you’ll have to convince

Lily: Pfft

Lily: That’ll be easy

Ben: She says she’d be OK with it

Ben: But yes you’d have to convince your dad

Lily: Maybe I’ll attempt that when he’s not being

Lily: Odd

Griffin: Hang on

Griffin: Weren’t Matt and Kelly talking to him before we left the 225?

Ben: I think so . . .

Lily: What did your guardians do to my dad

Griffin: Honestly

Griffin: Anything

Ben: ^

Lily: How the hell do you survive

Griffin: Sylvie

Ben: Sylvie

Lily: That explains so much yet nothing at all

Ben: That’s the best summary of our lives so far

Ben: Thanks Lily!

“You’re avoiding Frank.”

Nolan’s head whipped around to stare at Sam as they walked through the courthouse, heading for the steps to the lower level. “I am not avoiding him!”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you leave the courthouse before me in the past week . . . and those were times I know you were conducting interviews out of the office. You’re either avoiding him or he is avoiding you. I’m not sure which it is, but I have a very credible source.”

“Oh, yeah?” Nolan mimicked her tone. “Who?”

Sam smirked. “Frank’s daughter.”

Nolan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Lily?”

“Turns out there were some legal questions that popped up in her history homework that she wanted to know more about,” Sam nodded as they descended the stairs. “And Frank got voicemail when he called you to ask if you’d be willing to help her. That was one of the days you hadn’t left before me, so I know you were in your office.”

Nolan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, now I feel bad.”

“Look, did something happen at the end of Sylvie’s visit or something?” Sam asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Based on what Lily said, it just seems like that was the time when you both started - ”

“Excuse me.” Sam frowned at the interruption, but she fixed her expression as she turned to face a black woman who stood by the stairs. “You’re Nolan Price?”

“Yes,” Nolan nodded and stepped forward. “What can I do for you?”

“You can let my son out of jail,” the woman answered promptly. “Stop pretending he’s guilty.”

Nolan looked at Sam in confusion, but she shook her head, just as stumped as he. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Nolan turned back to the woman. “I don’t know who - ”

“My son is Troy Booker,” she told them. “He’s been in Rikers for 18 months for a crime he didn’t commit. I’ve called you a dozen times.”

Nolan sighed and nodded, recognizing the name. “I know. It’s not appropriate for me to talk to you directly. Your son’s lawyer needs to be involved, but you should know that we are reviewing the evidence, like we do in all cases, and if we believe the facts don’t support the charge, we will take appropriate action.”

“You’ve been hiding behind that damn speech since he got arrested!” Mrs. Booker growled.

“Ma’am!” Sam began with a step forward, narrowing her eyes at the confrontational tone.

Nolan held out his hand to stop Sam, and she frowned but settled next to him. “I suggest that you speak with your son’s attorney,” he told Mrs. Booker before walking away.

“He’s innocent!” Mrs. Booker shouted after them as Sam hurried to catch up with Nolan. “He was trying to help that man who got shot! That’s why he got blood on his clothes! You’re destroying a good man’s life!”

“Ms. Frazier, I know you’re new to the case, but I’ve already ruled on the defendant’s motion to dismiss,” Judge Bell said as he allowed the attorneys into his chambers.

“Prior counsel was ineffective,” Frazier explained. “And as you’ll see in my brief, the facts are woefully insufficient to support a murder two charge, let alone a conviction.”

“That’s why there’s a trial,” Nolan reminded her. “So the jury can interpret the evidence.”

“Don’t get smug with me, Price,” Frazier scowled at him. “I know how the system works.” Nolan blinked at the brazenness, then cleared his throat quietly and let her continue. “This case was built on sand,” she told Bell.

“But the defense counsel neglected to mention one other important piece of information,” Sam folded her arms. “The defendant actually confessed to the murder.”

“Which was coerced and is therefore invalid,” Frazier countered.

Sam shook her head. “There is no evidence of coercion.”

“OK, OK, I’ve heard enough,” Bell held up his hands. “Well, given the length of time the defendant has been incarcerated and the fact that the actual trial isn’t even on the calendar yet, I want to hold an evidentiary hearing to learn more about Mr. Booker’s confession. Is your client here?”

“No,” Frazier shook her head. “He’s apparently still en route.”

“Will you waive his presence?”

“Yes.”

Bell nodded and turned to Nolan. “Mr. Price, contact the detective who took the confession. Get him down here right away.”

Nolan nodded in agreement.

“I’m beginning to see who my daughter takes after.”

The statement from way out of left field made Jalen pause with his coffee mug almost to his lips, and he looked over the rim and over his computer to where Frank was absently flipping a pen around with his fingers, the senior officer’s eyes on his monitor. “Excuse me?” was all that Jalen could think of in response to the random sentence.

Frank did a double take, then he sheepishly looked up from his work. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, man, you did,” Jalen nodded, taking a sip of his coffee before putting it down. “But I am curious about the answer, since I only know one of her parents. Is it you or her mom?”

The disgruntled look on Frank’s face was answer enough. “Me,” the detective grumbled, making Jalen snort. “She’s a social butterfly, that is something she gets from her mom. Everything else? All me.”

“And you make it sound like that’s a bad thing,” Jalen snickered.

“It’s a bit of a problem when she’s stubborn as hell and knows exactly when I’m trying to dodge a question.”

The exasperation in Frank’s voice made it clear what he meant, and Jalen leaned back in his seat with a smirk. “She’s trying to nail Nolan, isn’t she?”

Frank blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, just something Sam said,” Jalen chuckled as he laced his fingers together and watched Frank, curious as to what his reaction would be. “Apparently Lily had some history questions that required the help of our favorite prosecutors? Or, well, my favorite prosecutor since yours apparently didn’t answer the phone. Lily is quite the detective in the making.”

“Great,” Frank sighed as he rubbed his temples. “Now she’s corrupting Sam, too.”

“Too?” Jalen parroted.

Frank snorted. “She’s had the same classmates for years, and who are her new best friends? The Darden boys.” Jalen burst out laughing, and Frank gestured helplessly. “I’m serious! She’s texting with them every time I see her on her phone, I swear to God.”

“Oh, man,” Jalen wheezed and shook his head. “Frank, you really need to settle whatever’s going on with you and Nolan. If your daughter is able to tell that something’s wrong and she’s only met Nolan a handful of times? You gotta figure it out, brother.”

“You think I haven’t been trying?” Frank seethed. “It takes two to tango here, Jalen.”

“Then maybe you should take the lead and stop Nolan from controlling the dance,” Jalen suggested, picking up his phone when it rang. “Detective Shaw.” Frank rolled his eyes and turned back to his reports, then looked up again when he saw Jalen stand. “I’ll be right there.”

“What’s going on?” Frank asked.

“Troy Booker’s got new counsel for his case, and the judge has called for an evidentiary hearing,” Jalen answered. “I’m the one who took his confession, so they need me there ASAP.”

“Go,” Frank nodded. “You need me to handle anything?”

“Nah, it’ll be here when I get back,” Jalen shook his head as he shrugged on his suit jacket. “Thanks, man.”

Frank nodded absently, watching Jalen jog out of the bullpen. “No problem.”

“Mr. Booker waived his right to counsel and repeatedly stated that he wanted to talk to clear up any confusion,” Jalen said as he sat in the witness box at the hearing. “But the more he talked, the more he contradicted himself.”

“How long did you question him?” Nolan asked.

Jalen thought back. “Approximately two hours.”

“And what led to his confession?”

“Mr. Booker had blood on his shirt,” Jalen answered. “That blood was eventually tested and proven to belong to the victim.”

“So after laying out all the facts, Mr. Booker confessed?”

“Yes, he did,” Jalen nodded. “I let him know that we had an airtight case and that it would be in his best interest to tell the truth. I told him if he did that, that he had a chance at having a life. That maybe one day, he would be released from prison.”

“What then?” Nolan asked.

“He admitted that he shot Marcus Williams.”

Nolan nodded and opened his mouth to continue, but the wail of multiple alarms stopped him from speaking. He looked up and around in confusion, then the door to the room burst open. “Courthouse is going into lockdown,” the security officer told everyone inside, her voice tense. “We have an attempted escape down at prisoner intake.”

Frazier’s eyes widened, and Jalen’s narrowed as he stood from the stand. Nolan stepped aside to let him pass, and Sam glanced at him worriedly. Jalen gave her a reassuring nod as he left the courtroom and took off at a run, his time spent at the courthouse meaning he knew the route to prisoner intake by heart.

When he emerged into the sun, he found one officer leaning over another, and he quickly ran over when he saw the amount of blood covering his hands. “Where’s the bus?” Jalen demanded.

“They’re on their way,” the officer stammered.

“Handle that!” Jalen snapped. “Wheel him in! Wheel him in!”

“OK!” the officer stumbled back, looking down at his hands before running off.

Jalen turned to look at the downed officer, and he placed his hand over the bullet wound, putting as much pressure as possible on it. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he ordered. “Grab my hand. Stay with me. What happened? Who did this?”

“An inmate!” the guard coughed.

“What’s his name?”

“Troy Booker!”

Jalen swallowed hard as he watched the officer slip unconscious, and he looked around wildly. “Where’s that bus?” he demanded, watching officers run around. “Where’s the bus?!”

Frank had heard of days from hell before. The days getting down to the bottom of Ava Marchenko’s murder had been the weeks from hell.

As he and Jalen stood outside of where Troy Booker held a bookstore full of civilians hostage, he knew this would be Jalen’s day from hell. “Hey,” Kate said as she walked up to them, walkie in her hand. “I got a hostage negotiator on the way.”

“We don’t need that,” Jalen shook his head. “I can talk to him.”

Kate frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I know him,” Jalen answered. “Well . . . sort of. I arrested him. I took his confession.”

“And you think that makes you qualified to handle this?”

“No, I’m not saying that makes me qualified,” Jalen shook his head. “But I’m saying I connected with Booker before. I got him to confess.” Kate gave Frank an incredulous look, and Jalen continued. “But I’m saying he knows me. He’s seen me before.”

“The longer we wait to engage, the greater the risk,” Frank pointed out. “Hostage negotiator isn’t even on site. Jalen is.”

Kate sighed and nodded. “OK,” she agreed reluctantly. “Let’s give it a shot.”

“Thank you,” Jalen nodded appreciatively.

“Hey,” Violet hurried up to them, showing them her tablet. “I finally got access to video of the actual escape. Thought it might be helpful.”

Frank, Jalen, and Kate all leaned in as Violet tapped the screen to play the video. Jalen carefully watched the struggle between Booker and the corrections officer, and when the gun went off, he narrowed his eyes. “Wait, that gun is in the guard’s hand,” he said slowly. “Yeah, thanks. That helps.” Violet nodded and stepped away, and Jalen turned to bark to the other officers. “I need a throw phone!”

Jalen could hear the terrified cries of the woman Booker used as a human shield when he made her pick up the phone thrown inside by the NYPD. He clenched the dialing phone in his hand, certain his knuckles were white as he waited for Booker to answer. “Hello?” the escapee asked through gritted teeth.

“Troy, this is Detective Shaw,” Jalen said. “Remember me?”

He could hear Booker’s breath seethe out between his teeth. “Yes.”

“I want you to listen to me closely,” Jalen told him. “You need to let these hostages go. If you do that, there’s still a way out of this. There’s some good news. The corrections officer that you shot, he’s still alive. We got the video. So we know that you two were wrestling over the weapon, and he’s the one who actually pulled the trigger, so that’s good news, too. But you got to let these people go, Troy. You do that, you can tell your side of the story.”

“I’ve been trying to explain myself for the last eighteen months!” Booker spat. “I didn’t kill him! I saw the real killer! I was there at the scene! I tried to help the dude who got shot, that’s why I had blood on my clothes! ‘Cause I tried to save his ass, but nobody wants to hear any of that!”

“Tell it to the jury,” Jalen urged. “That’s what trials are for, Troy. You have to believe in the system.”

“Believe in the system?” Booker repeated shrilly. “Are you serious? The system’s the thing that’s trying to kill me! No, I’m not going back to Rikers!”

Jalen sighed sadly and turned to Kate, shaking his head as he did. Kate, who had headphones covering one of her ears, lifted her radio and spoke into it. “Go, Frank.”

“You lied to me, Shaw,” Booker accused angrily. “You played me! You got me to confess to something I didn’t do!”

“Tell it to the jury,” Jalen tried again. “And let them hear your truth.”

“Go, Frank.”

At the order, Frank turned to the officers with him. “Radios off,” he told them.

Both nodded and clicked off their radios, and Frank stepped away from the back door. One of the officers broke the lock with a crowbar, and as he swung open the door, Frank led the way inside and up the stairs, gun raised and ready to fire. He kept his footsteps quiet as he walked through the back.

“ . . . and I sure as hell ain’t believing in no system!” Booker’s outrage was audible as Frank reached the first shelves of books, and he carefully made his way through the stacks. He didn’t know this store very well, and for all he knew, he could emerge right in front of Booker at any moment. “It ain’t built for people like me! You know it, and I know it!”

“But you got to let these people go, Troy,” Jalen said, and Frank peered carefully around one of the shelves. He got lucky when he found Booker facing away from him and towards the glass windows, a woman quivering at his feet. “If you’re as innocent as you say you are, why make this worse?” Frank turned to the two officers behind him and made a gesture with his hand. One of the officers remained at that point, and Frank led the other through the bookshelves, keeping his footsteps light. “Troy, now listen to me. You can tell your side of the story if you get out of here. You understand what I’m saying? You cannot hurt these people.”

“I need a car right now, or one of these innocent people you keep talking about is gonna get shot!” Booker barked, gun aimed at the back of the woman’s head. “You hear me?!”

“That is a very bad idea.” Jalen’s tone dropped several degrees. “You do that, you cannot walk this back. You can’t come back from this.” Frank slowly moved towards Booker, and the woman looked at him with wide eyes. Frank held his pointer finger to his lips, and the woman quickly looked back down, not making any sounds. “Come on, brother,” Jalen continued, and Booker finally moved his gun away from the woman. “You got the rest of your life ahead of you.”

Once the muzzle of the gun was aimed away from any of the civilians, Frank lunged forward and grabbed Booker’s wrist, twisting it behind his head. Booker whirled around, snarling at Frank like a cornered animal, but Frank wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. “Drop the gun,” he ordered, watching desperation grow in the young man’s eyes. “Troy - ”

“Get off me!” Booker writhed frantically.

“Drop the gun!” Frank ordered, pressing the muzzle of his gun under Booker’s chin. “Or I swear to God, if you don’t drop that gun - ”

“Come on, brother,” Jalen pleaded. “Just put it down.”

“Drop it!” Frank snapped, and Booker finally let the gun slip out of his hand and clatter onto the floor. “Turn around,” Frank ordered, spinning Booker into the shelf. He watched the officer with him snatch up the gun, and he sighed in relief. “I got Booker in custody.”

Matching sighs of relief came from both Kate and Jalen as Frank fastened cuffs around Booker’s wrists for the second time in the convict’s day.

“The defendant stands accused in two separate but related cases,” Nolan told Judge Bell at the hearing. “Murder and escape, kidnapping, and assault of a corrections officer.”

“The People are seeking consolidation?” Bell asked.

Nolan nodded. “The two cases stemmed from the same criminal transaction. The escape and assault never would have happened but for the underlying murder. Therefore, we should only have one trial.”

“Before you consider joining the cases,” Frazier rose to her feet, “I’d like the opportunity to argue a motion to dismiss the murder case.”

“Well, we’ve already been down that road twice,” Nolan pointed out.

“But I have newly discovered evidence,” Frazier argued.

Nolan shook his head. “The defendant forfeited the right to further argument when he chose to escape from custody.”

“I agree,” Bell nodded. “Any additional issues can be visited during the trial. I’m granting the People’s application to consolidate.”

Frazier ground her teeth together. “My client has been waiting eighteen months for his day in court,” she seethed. “Eighteen months. And I now have unassailable evidence that will exonerate him.”

“Case is scheduled for trial next Wednesday,” Bell hit his gavel.

Nolan nodded and gathered his belongings before gesturing Sam ahead of him in leaving the courtroom. “How’s Jalen doing?” he asked once they were past the doors.

Sam sighed. “Well, how do you think your favorite detective would be doing if he had to talk down an escaped convict he helped put in prison when the guy insists he’s innocent and was forced to confess?”

Nolan grimaced. “Sorry.”

Sam shook her head. “No, thank you for asking,” she gave him a small smile. “This is just going to be hard on him.”

“Mr. Price!” Nolan held in a sigh at the call of his name, and he turned as Frazier ran up to him. “Everyone in my office tells me that you’re a man of integrity,” she panted. “That you’ll listen to reason.”

“The judge made his ruling,” Nolan told her. “If you think that he made an error of law, you can file an appeal.”

“Wait,” Frazier held out a hand, stopping them from leaving. “We all know this is my first murder case, and it’s clear that you think that I’m naive for believing in my client. There is a serious injustice going on here.” She rummaged through her briefcase, then held out a USB drive. “Please . . . just hear me out.”

Nolan frowned uncertainly. “What is that?”

“Definitive proof that my client didn’t commit the murder,” Frazier answered.

Sam stared at her in disbelief. “And you’ve been sitting on this for eighteen months?”

“No!” Frazier shook her head. “No, of course not! I got it a few days ago. Watch the video, you’ll see what I’m talking about. You’ll see that you arrested the wrong man. Just take a look!” Nolan took in her pleading expression, then he nodded and took the flash drive from her. “A man’s life is on the line,” she whispered.

The echo of the gunshot rang in the conference room at the precinct, and it took all of Sam’s self-control to remain professional and not place a comforting hand on Jalen’s shoulder as the detective watched in horror. “That’s why Booker had blood on his clothes,” she said, watching Booker bend over the victim and shout for help.

“Booker told me that he saw the shooter,” Jalen whispered. “And then he came back to render aid to the victim. And I just . . . I just figured he was lying, you know, just trying to explain why he had blood on his clothes.” Sam looked tentatively at Nolan, knowing exactly how he felt about coerced confessions. His spectacular blow-up with Frank at the Nicole Bell trial was still an infamous event known around the courthouse and the 2-7, one she knew Jalen was well aware of. Just as quickly, Jalen looked up at Nolan, and the detective swallowed at the expressionless mask worn by the senior prosecutor. “I don’t lie to get a confession,” he stated. “That’s not what this is. Look, I just laid out the evidence that was in front of him, and I told him to tell the truth. You know, I just wanted him to know what he was facing. This kid is - ”

He broke off, and Sam gave in to her need to offer comfort. “People make false confessions all the time,” she told him.

Jalen shook his head stubbornly. “Not to me.”

“Defense lawyer said he smoked pot on the night in question,” Nolan told him.

“No,” Jalen denied sharply. “No, no, no, no. He did not seem high or intoxicated to me. And if he had, I wouldn’t have . . . ” He sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. “Where do we go from here?”

“I’ll dismiss the murder charge,” Nolan answered.

“And the escape case?”

Nolan checked his watch. “I’m gonna check with the corrections officer right now, see how he feels about a plea.”

“Good,” Jalen stood. “I’ll come with you.”

Nolan nodded in agreement, and Sam silently removed the flash drive from the laptop as the pair left the room. She trailed behind them and watched the pair exit the precinct, and a glance at the bullpen made her realize her eyes weren't the only pair that had watched them leave. She walked over to the pair of desks and half heartedly gestured. “May I?”

Frank returned the motion. “Go ahead.”

Sam hopped onto the edge of his desk, crossing her heels and watching her brother lean back in his chair. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Been better,” Frank shrugged. “Been worse. Jalen worked this case before he joined the 2-7, so I’m reading up on what I can so I’m not walking into this blindly.” He crossed one leg over the other and looked up at Sam. “Was Booker telling the truth?” he asked. “Is he really innocent?”

“Of the murder Jalen got him to confess to?” Sam bit her lip. “Yes.”

Frank closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hand. “Shit.”

Sam nodded, knowing that was exactly how Jalen was feeling. “Nolan’s going to talk to the corrections officer about a plea. Jalen’s going with him.”

“Oh, geez,” Frank sighed and shook his head. “What a mess.”

“Welcome to the system,” Sam gave a thin-lipped smile. “What a glorious thing it is.”

“She’s right there,” Jalen pointed as they entered the hospital waiting room, and Nolan followed him to where a redheaded woman sat in one of the chairs. “Mrs. Foster?” Jalen said gently. “This is ADA Price, and I’m Detective Shaw. We’d like to have a word with your husband, if that’s OK.”

Foster’s eyes brimmed with tears, and she slowly shook her head. “He’s gone.”

Nolan blinked. “What do you mean?”

Foster sniffed. “He died.”

Nolan’s blood ran cold, and he turned to Jalen, watching the man try and recover from the words. “I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am,” the detective finally managed to say.

“We were told he was doing well,” Nolan told Foster. “He was gonna make a full recovery.”

“His wound got infected,” she explained. “He went into septic shock.” She shook her head, staring into space. “Now I’m gonna have to tell my kids.”

Nolan sighed sadly and took a few steps back with Jalen, leaving Foster to grieve.

“Randall Foster would still be alive if we hadn’t wrongfully incarcerated Booker,” Nolan said blankly as he sat in Jack’s office, Sam on one side and Jack leaning against the wall. “If I had responded to his mother’s calls. If I had dug deeper into her claims of innocence.”

“You can’t beat yourself up over this,” Sam shook her head instantly. “It’s not your fault.”

Jack sighed and walked to his desk. “Right now, the question on the table is . . . what do we do about Booker? What’s the appropriate charge?”

Sam folded her hands in her lap. “We charge him with murder two,” she suggested.

Jack sat on the edge of his desk and looked at his right hand. “Nolan?”

“Uh,” Nolan swallowed hard. “Booker never intended to kill anybody. He and Foster were fighting to gain control of the gun, and the actual bullet wound wasn’t even life-threatening. The CO ultimately died of the secondary infection.”

Jack was shaking his head before the end of the final sentence. “Irrelevant.”

“Legally, yes,” Nolan conceded. “But morally? Ethically? Shouldn’t we at least consider man one?”

“We can’t reward Booker because he tried to escape, regardless of his innocence,” Jack pointed out. “Should have waited for the process to play itself out.”

“I get it,” Nolan sighed as he stood and restlessly paced. “But . . . ”

“But what?” Jack prompted.

“But the system failed him over and over again!” Nolan burst out, his struggle evident when he whirled to look at them. “So why on Earth should we punish him for not believing in something that he had no credible basis to believe in?”

“I understand you’re feeling guilty about what happened,” Jack said quietly, and Nolan meekly nodded. “But you can’t let that drive your decision.” Nolan swallowed hard and ducked his head. “OK,” Jack looked between his prosecutors. “So we’re charging him with murder two?”

Nolan stiffly nodded, his discomfort very evident. As he turned to exit the office, Sam gave in and reached out, catching his hand and squeezing tightly. Nolan looked down at their hands, then squeezed in return before walking out the door. She stood from her chair and followed after him, taking out her phone and sending out a quick text.

Sam: We have a charge.

Sam: Even though Nolan wanted something different.

Frank: What did he want?

Sam: Man one.

Frank: And what are the People charging?

Sam: Murder two.

Frank: Damn.

Frank: Opening statements?

Sam: Friday.

Frank: I’ll be there.

“The day started out like any other workday for Randall Foster,” Nolan said as he walked in front of the jury box. “He had breakfast, kissed his wife and children goodbye, and went to Rikers Island. One of his assignments was to drive an inmate, the defendant, to the courthouse for pretrial hearing. Problem was, the defendant had something different in mind. He was planning to overpower Randall Foster and escape. The People readily admit the defendant had reason to be impatient with the way his case was progressing, but instead of following the lawful path to innocence, he chose to take matters into his own hands.”

Frank’s eyes tracked Nolan’s movements as he gave his opening, but he was in tune enough with Jalen that when his partner gently elbowed him in the ribs, he turned away from Nolan to speak to his partner. “I think we may have another problem attorney on our hands,” Jalen said quietly, inclining his head to the defense table.

Frank knew this was Frazier’s first murder trial, and he knew that, compared to other defense attorneys who had found themselves in the unfortunate position that was in Nolan’s crosshairs, she was relatively green. That meant her disdain for Nolan was clear as day, and Frank’s hand closed into a fist on his knee. “No kidding,” he seethed in return.

If Nolan felt that venomous glare at his back, he didn’t show it. “And that’s why we’re all here today,” he continued. “Randall Foster is dead. His wife is a widow. His son and his daughter will grow up without their father. At the conclusion of this trial, I will ask you to find the defendant guilty of murder.”

He returned to the prosecution table and sat, and Frazier chuckled bitterly as she stood. “That was a compelling little yarn Mr. Price just wove, wasn’t it?” she asked. “An innocent man in Rikers, he chose to escape rather than go to trial. And as such, he must suffer the consequences of his unlawful actions.” She shook her head in disgust. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re not here because of Mr. Booker.” She turned and pointed at Nolan. “We’re here because of Mr. Price.”

Sam bristled from her place next to Nolan, and Jalen shook his head when he heard Frank growl low in his throat. “Oh, bad move,” he sighed.

“He held my client without bail,” Frazier continued with a smirk. “He sent him to Rikers, where he sat for eighteen months. Troy Booker never should have been arrested, let alone charged. He was innocent, yet Mr. Price was ready to send him to prison for life. Just another disposable black man.” She turned back to the jury. “My client did not kill Randall Foster,” she argued. “The system killed Randall Foster. So if you want to blame someone, blame Mr. Price and his colleagues at the New York Police Department. They’re the criminals. They’re the ones who should be locked up.”

Jalen may have only known Nolan for a few months, but after attending many trials, he thought he could accurately read the man’s masks most of the time. The emotionless mask that settled on Nolan’s face as Frazier returned to her seat, however, was one that put Jalen on edge. He couldn’t read the prosecutor at all as shields slammed into position, shields blocking the jury from seeing if those poisonous barbs affected him in any way.

Where Nolan showed nothing, Sam showed everything. The woman’s beautiful face broadcasted her outrage at the verbal attack on her partner, her dark eyes narrowed to slits as she glared across the aisle at Frazier. Come to think of it, Jalen was certain he had seen that expression before . . .

Then he looked next to him, and he blinked. Oh, he thought dumbly, seeing the exact same outrage on Frank’s face. There’s the family resemblance.

Mercifully, there was no volume on the video that was taken outside the courthouse, and Frank saw that relief on Jalen’s face as he turned away from the video to face Nolan and await questioning. “Detective Shaw, did you obtain that video from the courthouse security cameras?” Nolan asked.

“I did,” he nodded.

“Was it edited or altered in any way?”

“No, it was not.”

“Your Honor,” Frazier stood, “we’ll stipulate to the video and its authenticity.”

Sam blinked in surprise, which was mirrored by Nolan as he looked at Frazier. “Mr. Price?” Bell asked.

Nolan cleared his throat. “The People accept the stipulation,” he nodded.

“Alright,” Bell nodded. “I’ll enter it into evidence as People’s Exhibit 7.”

Nolan stepped back to Jalen. “What happened after the defendant escaped?” he asked.

“The citywide alert,” Jalen answered. “An armed, escaped prisoner.”

“The defense will also stipulate to the fact that Mr. Booker fled and that he took hostages and was captured,” Frazier added.

Frank’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and as he met Jalen’s bewildered gaze, he saw Nolan and Sam exchange similar looks.

“I thought the defense was gonna have a field day with Shaw!” Nolan sputtered as he paced in front of Jack. “He’s the one who took the false confession!”

“I’m sure Detective Shaw was relieved,” Jack remarked.

“Maybe,” Nolan huffed. “But I’m not.”

“Why is that?”

Nolan shrugged in frustration. “I don’t understand why the defense lawyer didn’t challenge the veracity of the video or harp on the fact that Booker never pointed the gun at the guard!”

“She can argue that during her summation,” Jack replied.

“No, no, it’s a missed opportunity,” Nolan argued. “She could easily have pecked away at our evidence and undermined our case!”

Jack tilted his head. “It sounds like you’re worried you might win,” he said softly. Just like that, the shields Nolan brought up to bear during court fell away, and multicolored eyes flashed dull green-gray with agony as Nolan tightly gripped the back of the chair and hung his head. Jack sighed and stepped away from his desk, settling a gentle yet firm hand on Nolan’s shoulder. “You did nothing wrong, Nolan,” he said. “The truth would have come out eventually.”

“You’re right,” Nolan swallowed. “But eventually took too damn long . . . and now Randall Foster is dead.”

“I understand,” Jack nodded, squeezing Nolan’s shoulder supportively. “Elements of this case are highly unusual, and troubling. We act on the facts as presented, and Randall Foster is dead because the defendant tried to escape. That’s felony murder all day long. So, make peace with the past and get your head into the game. Understand?” Nolan nodded shakily, and Jack bent his head so he could meet Nolan’s eyes. “You know why the defense didn’t attack your evidence? The facts are on your side. So they’re trying to win on emotion, not the law. You need to deliver an emotional gut punch of your own.”

Nolan exhaled shakily, and he nodded in understanding. Jack patted Nolan’s shoulder and stepped back to his desk, watching the younger man depart from his office.

Frank had hated Rankin when she took the John Nelson trial as a personal betrayal and turned it into a vendetta against Nolan. He had hated Vega when she took the Nick Castillo trial and turned it into a witch hunt against Sam.

If this was any other case, and any other prosecutor, Frank could forgive Frazier for being green and wanting to put on a show. But for her to go on a vicious crusade against the NYPD and the DA’s office on this case, one where Nolan and Jalen were beating themselves up over the system and how it had wronged Troy Booker? Oh, Frank was not going to rest easy until this case was through and he had a very good chance of never seeing Frazier again, which was why he was combing through security footage from Rikers to track Booker’s movements the day before the hearing. Of course, he had no idea how likely it was that he would never see Frazier again, but a man could dream, couldn’t he?

“Dad?”

Frank snapped out of watching the footage on his laptop, and he looked up from where he lounged back on his couch to see Lily standing in the doorway, somehow appearing tired yet alert at the same time. Another thing she inherited from me, he thought as he quickly sat upright. “Lily,” he set his laptop down and focused on her. “What is it, sweetheart? You should be in bed.”

“I got up to get a drink from the bathroom,” Lily bit her lip as she leaned against the doorframe. “But I saw the lights were still on here, so I just thought . . . ” She fidgeted and looked at him from under her lashes. “Dad . . . is everything OK?”

Frank sighed and patted the cushion next to him. “C’mere, hon.” Lily padded across the floor and plopped onto the couch next to him, and Frank held out his arm. She curled into his side, and Frank wrapped his arm around her. “The case we recently had that’s currently in the middle of trial,” he began slowly, trying to figure out his wording, “it’s messy, Lily. One of the messiest I’ve ever seen while on the force, and it’s taking a toll.”

Lily nestled her head on his shoulder and looked at him in concern. “Is that why you’ve been acting weird recently?”

Frank grimaced. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “Not now that you’ve said that.”

Frank chuckled fondly. “Yeah, I walked into that one, didn’t I?” Lily giggled and nodded, and Frank ran a hand over his daughter’s hair as she rested her head back on his shoulder. “No, it hasn’t been because of the case,” he admitted. “There’s just . . . been a lot for me to think about the past few weeks.”

Lily hummed thoughtfully. “Is it because of whatever Captain Casey and Lieutenant Severide talked to you about?”

Frank blinked down at her. “How did you know they talked to me?”

“Ben and Griffin saw you,” she answered with a shrug. “Ben says sometimes the cops back in Chicago act weird when there’s a troublesome case.”

“Well, tell Ben he’s a smart kid, but that’s not it,” Frank smirked.

Lily frowned up at him. “Dad.”

“Scout’s honor, Lily, it’s not a case,” he promised. “But yes, they gave me something to think about. And while it has nothing to do with this case . . . it is making it a bit more difficult.”

Lily fiddled with her fingers. “I’ve heard people talking about it at school,” she said. “The Booker case? With the defense attorney who said the prosecutors and police officers should be the ones in prison?”

Frank winced. “That’s the one.”

He knew his daughter was intelligent, and she could put together pieces of any puzzle faster than some beat cops he knew. So he wasn’t surprised by her next words. “It has to do with Nolan, doesn’t it?” she asked. “When Sam came over to help with my homework, she was just as worried as you. That leaves one thing in common with the two of you.”

Frank sighed. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Um . . . ” He hadn’t anticipated having this conversation at this point in time, but with the officers’ advice resounding in his head . . . well, there was no time like the present. “You know how I’ve told you Nolan is my best friend.”

“Uh-huh,” Lily nodded. “And Sam is your sister and my unofficial aunt, and Jalen is your partner.”

Frank smiled at her words. “Well . . . one of those isn’t quite accurate.” At Lily’s inquisitive head tilt, making her look like a confused puppy, he elaborated. “Nolan . . . I haven’t seen him as my best friend for a few months. What I feel for him is more than that.”

Lily’s confusion cleared. “So . . . you love him?”

Matt and Kelly had recognized what he felt, but they hadn’t asked him to say it. Sam had come the closest to asking. Hearing the direct question from his daughter made Frank exhale shakily and nod. “Yeah, Lily,” he told her. “I do. I don’t know when it happened, but I’ve known it for a while.”

Lily nodded thoughtfully, and Frank could almost see the gears turning in her head as she processed his words. “Does he love you back?” she asked quietly.

And didn’t that just sting like hell to hear? “I . . . ” Frank trailed off as he thought about his previous interactions with Nolan: the prosecutor’s comfort level with him, the way he responded to flirtations. “I don’t know.”

Lily watched him mull over the words, then she tucked her legs underneath her. “Mom found a way to be happy,” she told him. “Dad . . . you deserve to be happy, too. If that’s with Nolan . . . you should find out.”

Frank looked at Lily in surprise, not having expected her words. “You’re OK with it?”

“Dad,” Lily immediately scooted over on the couch to return to snuggling against his side. “Of course, I’m OK with it. Yeah, maybe I thought you and Mom may get back together when I was younger . . . but that was years ago. I love you, Dad. How could I not be OK with what makes you happy?”

Frank had no idea how he swallowed past the lump in his throat, but he somehow managed to do it. “I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely, kissing the top of her head and closing his eyes. Yes, Lily took after him in so many ways . . . but her big heart? That was definitely something she got from her mother.

Lily kissed his cheek and gave him a quick hug, then she stood from the couch. “You need to sleep, too,” she reminded him.

Frank chuckled and nodded. “I’m almost done, then I’m off to bed. I promise. Sweet dreams, Lily.”

“Good night, Dad,” Lily beamed and walked down the hall.

Frank waited until she was out of sight, then he plucked up his laptop and returned to scouring the footage from Rikers. The warden had sent footage from every camera Booker could have appeared on, and while he knew the warden had already told him what he had seen, Frank wanted another set of eyes. Both Nolan and Jalen were clinging to hope that there was some way to lessen Booker’s sentence, preferably with a plea bargain, and if Booker’s claim of being threatened by a white supremacist was true, there could be a light at the end of the tunnel.

But Frank had told Lily the truth when he said he was nearly done. When he finished with the footage, he sighed and rubbed his forehead, wishing he could have a drink this late at night. Alas, that was not possible, and he reached for his phone and dialed.

Sam picked up on the first ring. “Yeah, Frank?”

“Hey, I know you spoke to the warden before and he told you what he found in the logs,” he told her. “I just finished my look through . . . he was right.”

Sam groaned. “Damn it.”

The warden nodded as Nolan played the video footage from the prison yard of Rikers in the courtroom the next day. “I looked at every piece of video we have,” he said. “This is the only time Mr. Booker was outside of his cell on the day in question.”

“The only time?” Nolan repeated, looking for clarification.

“Correct,” the warden nodded. “He ate breakfast and lunch in his cell that day.

Nolan nodded slowly. “So you didn’t find any video or other evidence suggesting that a white inmate attacked or threatened the defendant that day?”

The warden nodded. “Correct.”

“Thank you,” Nolan told him as he returned to his table.

Frazier stiffly rose to her feet and approached the witness stand. “You’re the man in charge of the jail, is that fair to say?”

The warden nodded. “I am.”

“Sixteen people died in your custody last year, correct?”

Sam winced at the bluntness, and the warden sighed. “We do the best we can,” he said. “But we have limited resources, limited manpower, limited funds.”

Frazier hummed, narrowing her eyes. “Must be awful to be an inmate in there,” she remarked, side-eyeing the jury. “Let alone an innocent inmate, someone who did absolutely nothing wrong.”

“Objection,” Nolan requested, not even having to raise his voice.

“Sustained,” Bell nodded. “Move on, Ms. Frazier.”

“Nothing further,” Frazier shook her head and returned to her table.

Frank leaned forward from where he and Jalen sat behind Sam, muttering just low enough for her, and only her, to hear as Nolan stood again. “She’s a broken record.”

Jalen frowned, obviously wondering what he said that didn’t include him, and Sam inclined her head in agreement as Nolan walked up to the warden. “Did Mr. Booker have access to a phone?” he asked.

“All prisoners do,” the warden confirmed.

“Did his lawyer visit?”

“Several times.”

Nolan folded his arms, and only Frank’s knowledge of the prosecutor meant he could see the discomfort in his stance. “So he had a lawful way of challenging his custody status?”

The warden nodded. “He did.”

Nolan turned on his heel to consider Booker, who was giving him a steely look. “Alternatives to killing a guard and escaping?”

The warden nodded stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

Nolan sighed and nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly as he returned to his seat.

He didn’t turn to look at any of them, though Frank knew Jalen was silently staring into the back of his head. That line of questioning had not been something either man had wanted, and judging by the worried look Sam gave him, she knew it, too.

“We know how this is going to go, Frank,” Sam said quietly as they returned to the courtroom for the verdict, their respective partners already in their places.

“It would take a miracle for them to decide otherwise,” Frank nodded reluctantly in agreement. “Keep me posted once we leave?”

“As long as you do the same,” Sam nodded.

“Always,” Frank squeezed her hand as they reached their places. Sam walked around the desk to sit next to Nolan, and Frank slid into the bench next to Jalen. “So,” he folded his arms and didn’t look at his partner as he waited for the finale of the trial to begin. “Rumor has it there was a discussion that took place last night?”

Jalen tensed next to him. “Are we really gonna do this now, Frank?”

“Absolutely not,” Frank shook his head, dropping his voice as Bell called the court into session. “But thanks for the confirmation.”

Bell looked at the paper handed to him by the security guard, then he returned it. “Counsel, please rise,” he ordered, and Nolan and Sam stood from the prosecution table as Frazier and Booker did so from the defense table. “Madam Foreperson, have you agreed upon a verdict?”

The foreperson took back the paper from the security guard, and she didn’t look at it as she turned to Booker. “We find the defendant, Troy Booker, guilty of murder in the second degree.”

Frank knew the verdict was coming, but this victory made unease crawl through his blood. Unlike the Nelson case, where they all knew the bastard had been guilty, this verdict had come about all because a system, one they all knew was flawed and broken, put an innocent man in prison. Unlike Nelson, Booker shouldn’t have been in Rikers to begin with. And now he was going back . . . and for good.

“Members of the jury, thank you for your service,” Bell nodded as Booker broke down into tears. “We’re adjourned.”

Mrs. Booker shook with sobs as her son was placed in handcuffs, and Frank silently stepped out of the bench, letting Jalen out ahead of him. Booker gave his partner a nasty look that made Jalen brace for an outburst, but court officers led Booker away before anything could be said . . . if Booker had intended to say anything at all. Nolan and Sam glanced back at them, and Jalen merely nodded before walking out of the courtroom. Nolan looked resigned, as if he hadn’t expected anything else, and Sam’s shoulders slumped as she squeezed Nolan’s shoulder comfortingly. “Call if you need anything from us,” Frank requested.

“We will,” Sam nodded in agreement.

Nolan nodded as well but didn’t say a word, and Frank turned and followed the path Jalen took. He had almost expected Jalen to continue to the 2-7 without him, but his partner remained just outside the courtroom doors, appearing more tense than a bowstring. “Ease down, partner,” Frank sighed and shook his head as they headed for the exit. “I’m not gonna rip out your throat.”

“Not in public, anyway?” Jalen asked dryly.

Frank considered Jalen as they walked down the steps. “This is the first time you really got it wrong, isn’t it?”

Jalen scoffed. “Frank - ”

“No, I mean you really got it wrong,” Frank shook his head. “Not a small stumble in a case that means you go back to square one, but you still solve it by the end of the day. A real wrong that is going to taunt you forever.”

Jalen rolled his eyes to the sky. “You’re really making me feel better here, brother.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything I could say that could make you feel better right now, Jalen,” Frank snorted. “That’s not what I’m saying. We work in a flawed system. Everyone in that courtroom knew it. You and I know it, the judge knows it, Nolan and Sam know it, and the defense beat everyone over the head with the fact so they definitely know it by now. When you first learned the system is as broken as it is, what did you decide to do about it?”

Jalen sighed as they hit the sidewalk. “I joined the Police Academy.”

“Nolan was a defense attorney before he was a prosecutor,” Frank told him. “And he was a damn good one, too. You know what case made him decide to be a prosecutor?” Jalen shook his head, and Frank sighed. “When he clinched an acquittal for, and I quote, ‘a stone-cold killer.’ That was when he decided to make sure those people got put in prison instead of being allowed to walk free. Since I joined the 2-7, I can count on one hand the number of cases Nolan has lost as a prosecutor, and I would have fingers left over . . . but this year especially I have seen his reluctance on cases he prosecutes because of what the system decides. He and Sam are both against the death penalty, yet Nolan pursued it for Nelson. Nolan initially argued for Booker to be charged with man one - ”

“Wait,” Jalen blinked and looked at him. “When was this?”

“Before the trial ever began,” Frank answered. “Sam texted me after they met with McCoy.” Jalen swallowed hard, and Frank sighed. “Before Frazier came into the picture, Nolan had been getting calls from Booker’s mother, pleading for him to get him out of prison. Nolan kept saying he couldn’t, as she would have to contact him through her son’s lawyer. Nolan knew the system failed Booker, and he took every opportunity he could to give him a lesser sentence. But he prosecuted as he always does, Jalen.”

“According to the law,” Jalen whispered, his lingering rage crumbling into devastation as he stopped by one of the benches. “Damn it . . . Frank, I became a cop to keep innocent black men out of prison, not put them in there.”

Frank sighed and placed his hand on Jalen’s shoulder. “Jalen, the system is flawed, and so are we,” he said. “That’s called being human. We can get things right most of the time . . . but we do get it wrong. And unfortunately, when we get it wrong like everything went wrong with Booker, there’s no way to walk it back. Here are my questions for you.” Jalen waited expectantly, and Frank raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to stay stuck with the past or move on to the present? And is your faith in the system shaken enough that I should expect a new partner the next time I walk into the 2-7?” Jalen balked at the words, and Frank shrugged as he started to walk again. “I’ve seen it with other cops and attorneys before. Just thought I’d ask.”

Jalen took a deep breath and continued to walk, his longer stride allowing him to catch up with Frank. “It’s possible to move on?” he asked.

Frank glanced at him. “You’re allowed to remember your mistakes,” he said. “I’d be concerned if you didn’t. But yes, you can move on. Living in the past is bad news waiting to happen. Our job requires us to be in the here and now.” He raised an eyebrow. “You think you can do that?”

Jalen swallowed and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Frank nodded in return. “You’re a good cop, Jalen, a good cop who made a mistake. If every good cop in New York left the force because they made one mistake . . . actually, don’t make me think about that. I’d rather shoot myself in the head with my gun.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Jalen hastily shook his head. “I’m not explaining to Nolan how that happened.”

Frank should have had Sam make a bet with him on what Jalen would do once they returned to the 2-7. All the senior detective had to do was complete what little paperwork remained now that Booker’s trial was complete, and he put a dent in his emails, too. Jalen, on the other hand, was doing exactly what Frank had seen countless officers do time and time again in the aftermath of making such a consequential mistake on the job: burying himself back in his work.

Most of the bullpen had emptied by that time, and Frank was considering how to pull Jalen from his work when his phone chirped, and he glanced at the messages he received.

Sam: I give.

Sam: Nolan’s pulling a me.

Frank: A “you?”

Sam: The conveyor belt of justice doesn’t stop.

Sam: Apparently he thinks it might if he stops.

Frank: So he’s working himself to the bone, too?

Sam: . . . is Jalen doing the same?

Frank: Yeah, he’s pulling a you.

Frank: I haven’t seen him get up from his desk since we got back to the precinct.

Frank: I was about to try and get him to stop.

Sam: No, leave that to me.

Sam: I’m in a taxi on my way over anyway.

Sam: I told Jack about Nolan before I left. I think he might give it a go next.

Sam: Unless I get there and you decide you want to do it instead.

“That’s if he lets me,” Frank muttered under his breath.

“Hmm?” Jalen blinked up at him.

Frank opened his mouth to answer, but his phone abruptly started ringing, and he blinked when he saw the number that appeared. “Hang on,” he stood from his chair and answered. “Cosgrove.”

“Is everything OK?” a panicked voice, one that Frank knew was supposed to sound like silver bells, blurted at once, followed by several other words that had Frank blinking rapidly as he attempted to decipher them. “We saw the verdict on the news, and I’ve been trying to call Nolan, and none of my calls are making it through, and I don’t know - ”

“Sylvie, hey,” Frank cut across her, rubbing his forehead. “Sylvie, breathe for a moment. Calm down.” He heard the paramedic take a deep breath, and he leaned against the counter in the breakroom as he gathered his thoughts. “I haven’t seen Nolan since Shaw and I left the courthouse,” he told her. “But based on what Sam’s told me, he’s trying to bury himself in work. He probably hasn’t even glanced at his phone if it’s a personal call.”

“Oh, Nolan.” Sylvie sounded more heartbroken than angered. Frank decided he absolutely despised hearing that tone from her. “He’s always like this when cases take these kinds of turns, even when he was on the other end of it as a defense attorney. Is someone with him?”

“Sam said that before she left the courthouse, she told Jack what Nolan was doing,” Frank answered. “He’s likely to check in on him.”

“Oh, he will,” Sylvie sighed in relief. “Jack often leans into the ‘tough’ in ‘tough love,’ but he cares a hell of a lot for his people. He’ll get Nolan out of the courthouse.”

“If anyone could, he could,” Frank agreed.

“You probably could, if you went over.”

The nonchalance made Frank narrow his eyes. “Maybe,” he said slowly. “If he hadn’t been avoiding me for the past two weeks.”

“He has?” Sylvie asked in surprise.

“Uh huh.”

“Oh.” Her voice was small, making Frank frown. “Oh . . . that might be my fault.”

“Your fault?” Frank asked incredulously. “What the hell did you do from all the way in Chicago?”

“Um . . . if it’s what I’m thinking, it happened in New York.”

Frank thought over every time he had seen Nolan and Sylvie, all the way up to when the family of five had left for JFK . . . and with a start, he realized the last time he had seen them speak one on one. “Do I want to know what you talked about while I was getting a pep talk from Casey and Severide?” he asked.

Sylvie sighed. “Frank, you know my brother. You think I can’t tell you already know the answer to that question?”

Frank closed his eyes and leaned his head back, feeling it hit the cabinets behind him. “Damn it,” he muttered. “Yeah, I know it. And I don’t know whether I should punch you or kiss you next time I see you.”

“If I’m wrong, I will personally tell Matt and Kelly that you are well within your right to punch me,” Sylvie told him. “And you can have Shaw or Yee as your witness to me saying that.”

“Yeah, no” Frank glanced over at the bullpen. “Violet’s out for the night, and Jalen is . . . well, he’s pulling a Nolan.”

“Oh, no,” Sylvie sighed. “Well . . . I can ask Intelligence to hold them back. Or maybe Capp and Tony . . . I think they may like me more than their actual officer.”

“And their officer is . . . ?”

“Oh, Kelly. Hang on . . . ” His phone chirped with an incoming message. “On Kelly’s left is Joe Cruz, his 2IC. Capp’s on Kelly’s other side, Tony on Joe’s.”

Frank took his phone away from his ear to check the picture, and he couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah, I think they could hold your guys back.”

“Just be prepared for someone to be recording if that actually happens.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Frank sighed, peeking around the break area when he heard the familiar click of heels. “Alright, I have to go. But thank you for calling. I’ll make sure Nolan does the same.”

“Thank you, Frank,” Sylvie told him. “And take care.”

“You, too, Sylvie.” A click indicated the paramedic had left the call, and Frank slid his phone back into his pocket as he walked out of the break area. Sam strode through the door into the bullpen, and Frank crossed the room to meet her. “How’re you doing after this?” he asked quietly.

Sam sighed and brushed her hair out of her face. “I wasn’t partnered with Nolan when Booker was first put in Rikers,” she whispered. “I’m not the one who should be asked that question.”

Frank nodded somberly. “Neither of us should be.”

Sam watched Jalen bend over his computer, so wrapped up in his actions that he hadn’t noticed her enter. “I’ll take care of mine, you take care of yours?” she offered.

Frank gave her a wry smile. “Will he let me?”

“After this?” Sam smiled gently in response. “Yeah. I think he will. He’s had you for every rough case since the Nelson trial, and I honestly think he’s trying to figure out what to do with himself right now because of . . . well, whatever’s been happening the past several days.”

Frank grimaced. “He isn’t the only one. Lily’s noticed something is up.”

Sam giggled. “She is your daughter, Frank.”

“Believe me, I know,” Frank chuckled. “I’m glad I have her.”

He returned to his desk and observed Jalen for a few seconds, the detective so engrossed in his work that he never even looked up. Frank nodded as he gathered his belongings and clicked the icon to shut down his computer, then he took his pen holder, held it up, and dropped it back on his desk.

It landed with a loud thud, and Jalen skidded back from his desk in surprise. “What the hell?” he stared at Frank.

“Good, you’re still able to move,” Frank nodded as he picked up the stray pens that had scattered. “Jalen, all of that is still going to be here when we’re through with our break. Breathe for a few days, OK?” He gave a small smirk to Sam. “The world won’t end if you stop for a break.”

Sam chuckled at the familiar words, and Jalen’s eyes widened when he saw her. “Come on,” she walked over and put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “I have it on good authority that the best cure after a verdict like this is spending the rest of the night making sure you never think about it at all.”

“Yeah?” Jalen tilted his head. “Whose?”

“Mine,” Sam smiled as she sat on the edge of his desk. “Otherwise, I would have been stewing in my office and not leaving until after work the next night. I would’ve been no good to anyone if that had been the case, and neither will you. Come on.”

She gave him a pleading look, and Jalen sighed in fond exasperation. “You know I can’t say no when you give me that look.”

“That’s why I’m giving you this look,” she winked.

Frank chuckled as he shrugged on his coat. “Listen to her,” he told Jalen. “If you won’t listen to me.”

“Hey, Frank?” He paused in his walk to the door and turned around, meeting Jalen’s grateful eyes. “Thanks,” he said softly. “For everything on this case.”

Frank nodded with a smile. “I’ve got your back, brother.”

Jalen smiled in return as he pushed away from his computer. “Likewise.”

“And you,” Frank pointed at Sam. “Only the best for my partner, got it?”

“I solemnly swear,” Sam nodded with a grin. “You do the same for mine.”

Frank gave her a two-finger salute in response as he headed out the door, already planning his method of attack for when he reached the courthouse. He had a feeling he was going to need one.

“The last time I remember seeing you this deep in your work was when you were searching for any wiggle room in how to charge Kendra Daniels.”

The sudden voice from Nolan’s doorway made the prosecutor jump in his seat, and he looked up in surprise to see his boss lean on the frame, hawk-like eyes watching him. It was only when Nolan dropped his pen that he realized his fingers were starting to cramp, and he hissed as he opened and closed his fist to get the blood circulating again. “That case was a political nightmare on all sides,” he muttered as he remembered the case, flinching when he thought about the vitriolic barbs Frank had thrown at him following the arraignment. “No one was going to be completely satisfied by the end of it.”

“No, they weren’t,” Jack agreed. “Just as, at the end of the day, no one is truly satisfied by the results of Booker’s trial.” Nolan swallowed hard and looked down at the papers strewn across his desk, and Jack walked further into the office. “I said it before, Nolan, and I’ll say it again. You did nothing wrong.”

“Then why does it feel like I’ve done everything wrong?” Nolan ground out, looking up at Jack with desperation. “No one won when it came to Troy Booker! I mean - yes, the People won, we got the conviction, but this doesn’t feel like a win! The only thing that won - !”

“ - was the system,” Jack finished for him. “The system we have seen deliver the right justice . . . and that we have seen fail in the most horrid of ways.” Nolan slowly nodded, and Jack leaned on the edge of one of the bookshelves, looking down at his right-hand man. “The system is a cruel, unforgiving thing, Nolan,” he said. “Yet it’s the world we live in right now, and as ridiculous as it sounds, it’s better than what others in the world have to work with. All we can do is work with the hands we’re given and make the best out of them. And sometimes, like we saw in this case, that won’t be enough.”

Nolan groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I left the defense field because I didn’t want people like John Nelson to walk free,” he said, his words muffled by his hands. “I didn’t become a prosecutor to throw people back into Rikers when they shouldn’t have been there to begin with.”

“No one has ever become a prosecutor for the situation you just mentioned,” Jack shook his head. “Some of our cases are open and shut, easy to solve. Others, such as this one, have so many knots tangled throughout that we have to choose which to ignore and which to pursue. And while Booker did not commit the murder he was initially imprisoned for, he was responsible for this one.”

Nolan sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead as he stared blankly down at his desk. “That’s what I keep telling myself. It’s not very helpful.”

“Then follow Ms. Maroun’s lead,” Jack laid a hand on his shoulder. “Use the break. Keep work out of your head for the time being. The entire team deserves it.”

Nolan took a deep breath. “Jack - ”

A trio of knocks on the door made both prosecutors lift their heads, and a hesitant Frank stood in the doorway, looking between the two. “Ah, Detective,” Jack smiled, speaking before Frank had a chance to do so. “Perfect timing. Can I trust you to make sure Nolan is out of here in . . . oh, let’s say, thirty minutes? If he isn’t, I’ll be back to kick him out.”

Frank chuckled. “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent,” Jack nodded in satisfaction, then he looked down at Nolan pointedly. “Ms. Maroun is taking the time, and I expect you to do the same. The conveyor belt of justice will not stop if you take a break.”

Frank’s pale eyes glittered with amusement, but he kept his mouth shut as he leaned in the doorframe. Nolan looked like he wanted to argue, but Jack raised an eyebrow as if daring him to try. Thankfully, Nolan knew when to accept defeat, and he nodded tiredly and shut his laptop. “Thanks, Jack.”

“You’re welcome,” Jack nodded and squeezed his shoulder. “Take care, Nolan.” He stepped away and let Nolan pack up his belongings, and he strode back to the door. Frank stepped to the side, giving Jack a clear exit, and the District Attorney stopped next to him. “And if he doesn’t take care of himself,” he began.

Frank didn’t let him finish. “He’ll find out just how stubborn I can be.”

Jack chuckled at that mental image. “Take care of yourself, too, Frank.”

Frank nodded. “I will, sir. Thank you.”

Jack patted his shoulder. “Have a good evening.”

Frank watched the man leave through the offices, then he stepped fully into Nolan’s and watched the Executive ADA finish packing up his briefcase. “You know, it’s a little funny,” he said.

Nolan looked up sharply. “What is?”

“Sam and I seem to be using variations of the same phrase, and it looks like your boss is, too,” Frank answered. “The world isn’t going to end if you stop working for a night.” He checked his watch. “Or, in this case, however long Jack’s giving you. I know Lieu’s giving me, Jalen, and Violet some extended time.”

Nolan sighed as he zipped up his briefcase. “I’m going to be poor company tonight, Frank.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d know by now that I’d rather have your poor company than anyone else’s.” Nolan averted his eyes, blushing in embarrassment, and Frank shook his head. “We can discuss it later. Let’s just get out of here, alright?”

“Yeah,” Nolan nodded as he stood from his desk and grabbed his coat from the rack. “Not really in the mood for a bar, though.”

“Fine,” Frank shrugged. “As long as you don’t kick me to the curb, because you are stuck with me for tonight, I’ll go along with whatever you want.”

Nolan’s multicolored eyes focused on Frank, and he took a deep breath. “My building isn’t too far from here.”

Frank smirked. “Lead the way.”

Frank whistled appreciatively as he looked around Nolan’s loft. “Someone’s profession is kind to their bank account.”

“A few professions and a very cushioned inheritance, and Sylvie’s came in handy when the Dardens came to Chicago,” Nolan smirked as he beelined for the kitchen, placing his briefcase down and removing his overcoat followed by his suit jacket. “Make yourself comfortable. Preferred poison?”

“Thanks,” Frank hung his coat on one of the hooks and draped his suit jacket on another as he watched Nolan expertly maneuver around the kitchen. “I’ll take whatever you’re having.”

Nolan smirked as he took down a few tumblers and grabbed a bottle from one of the cupboards. “You better not mind scotch.”

Frank snorted. “With your taste in alcohol? That’s not a problem.”

Nolan laughed as he poured heavy helpings of the liquor. It was the first time Frank had heard the sound in several days, and he couldn’t begin to describe the relief he felt at hearing it. “Yeah, that’s why you’re friends with me.”

“Mr. Expert on Reading People strikes again,” Frank smirked, catching the glass slid across the counter to him. “The only reason I’m friends with you is because I benefit from your expensive taste in alcohol. You got me.”

Nolan snickered, the tension in his stance lessening as he walked around the counter and towards the living room. “Shut up.”

“Hey, you brought up the topic,” Frank grinned as he followed Nolan.

“And now I’m regretting it,” Nolan rolled his eyes as he gestured to the couch. “Next time, I’m finding the worst and making you drink that.”

“Uh huh,” Frank chuckled as he took a sip and sat on the couch. “You’re not that cruel.”

“You really think I’m not?” Nolan challenged with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he sat on the opposite end.

Frank paused and considered the look on Nolan’s face. “Actually, since Sylvie had to get it from somewhere . . . she probably got it from you.”

Nolan raised his glass in a mock toast. “And never forget it.”

Frank snickered and clinked his glass against Nolan’s. “Copy that.”

Nolan’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as he took a sip of his drink, but his expression sombered quickly afterwards. “How’s Jalen holding up?” he asked.

Frank sighed. “He was as deep into his work as you were from the moment we got back to the precinct,” he answered. “But I left him in Sam’s capable hands.”

Nolan smiled into his glass. “I guess she had better success with him than she had with me.”

“Well,” Frank eyed him, “considering your boss was the only one who successfully got you out of your office . . . ”

Nolan sighed in resignation. “How much did you hear before you knocked on the door?”

Frank considered. “Enough to know that some of the knitters in my family would wonder how to undo all the knots in this case.”

Nolan let out an inelegant snort. “That’s putting it kindly.”

“Nolan, I knew nothing about Troy Booker before I was joining Jalen and chasing him around the city,” Frank shook his head. “All I knew initially was he shot a corrections officer and escaped custody, then as everything unfolded . . . this case had more layers than a damn onion.”

“And it was just as much a pain in the ass to try and peel apart,” Nolan grimaced.

Frank wrinkled his nose. “There’s an image.” Nolan snickered in agreement, and Frank rested his forearms on his knees so he could look directly at Nolan. “Look . . . I know this win hurts.”

“It doesn’t even feel like a win,” Nolan looked down at his lap.

“And it can feel that way,” Frank nodded. “Mistakes were made all over the place, and Jalen is starting to see he’s vulnerable to the flaws in this screwed-up system, too. You got the even harder end of the bargain, Nolan. The mistakes we make are the ones you have to deal with in court, and Frazier seemed intent on seeing you burn in hell for it.”

“I made mistakes, too, Frank,” Nolan began.

“Did you, though?” Frank frowned with a tilt of his head. “What’s the proper procedure when the family of an inmate wants to contact the prosecuting attorney?”

“Frank,” Nolan began.

“Nope,” Frank held up his hand. “My turn. I’ve gotten good at perfecting the ‘it’s not your fault’ spiel with my prosecutors. Answer the question. What’s the proper procedure?”

Nolan sighed. “They must contact the prosecutor through the inmate’s lawyer.”

“Is that what happened?”

Nolan swallowed. “No. Mrs. Booker kept calling me directly.”

“So what did you tell her?”

Nolan looked down at his drink. “That Troy Booker’s lawyer should be involved in the process.”

Frank nodded. “You followed what the system said, Nolan,” he said quietly. “You followed every necessary step, even when following the system made Frazier paint you in a bad light. You gave Booker every chance to avoid spending the rest of his life in Rikers, even when he was intent on making you the villain, and pursued every possible lead to see if his time could be lessened. You didn’t do anything wrong, Nolan. You did everything right. You couldn’t have done anything more than that.”

Nolan swallowed hard, his armor falling apart under those piercing pale eyes. “Say it again?” he requested hoarsely.

Frank scooted across the cushions and reached up, holding onto the back of Nolan’s neck. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated, pale eyes blazing as he focused on Nolan’s multicolored ones. “You hear me? Nothing.”

Nolan let out the rest of his breath in a rush and sagged in relief, the rest of the tension in his body disappearing as he listed forward, his forehead landing on Frank’s shoulder. Frank quickly set his glass, followed by Nolan’s, on the coffee table and pulled Nolan in for a proper hug, which the younger man responded to by clinging to him tightly. “Thank you,” the prosecutor croaked, his voice breaking as he fought to maintain his composure.

“Any time, Nolan,” Frank promised. “I’ve told you, I’ve got your back.”

Nolan scoffed. “And I’ve done anything but that for you the past few weeks.”

Frank tensed at the words. “Nolan - ”

“No, I haven’t,” Nolan shook his head and sat straight as he looked at him. “And I have no excuse for it. The past few days, with Booker’s trial . . . that I can maybe use as an excuse. Every other day? No, I can’t make up one. I’m sorry, Frank. I’ve been awful.”

Frank sighed in resignation. Well, if they were going to have this discussion . . . it might as well happen now. “If it was just about the case, I would understand,” he said. “But it started way before then. What’s going on?”

Nolan gulped. “Cold feet about potentially ruining the best relationship I’ve ever had?”

Frank blinked at him. “Nolan, the only thing you could do to ruin what we’ve got is if you end it.”

“Oh, God, no,” Nolan blanched. “Frank, no, that’s the last thing I want to do!”

Frank tilted his head. “Then what the hell do you think could ruin this?”

Nolan swallowed and met Frank’s gaze. “That I don’t know where the line is that neither of us should cross,” he admitted. “And I have no idea what the hell to label what we’ve got because what walking cliché does it make me when I fall in love with my best friend?”

Frank couldn’t help the startled and relieved laughter that welled up. “How about the cliché where both are the last ones to learn that the other’s in love with them?” Nolan’s eyes widened, and Frank grinned at him. “And would you believe it took Casey, Severide, and Lily to make me say something?”

Nolan burst out laughing. “I wondered what they said to you that day at the 225! Oh, my God . . . my family is full of meddlers. Seriously, at 51 they call Sylvie - ”

“The Queen of Hearts,” Frank finished with him, laughing when Nolan looked at him in surprise. “Casey and Severide brought that up. Your sister apparently clocked me within minutes of meeting me and after Jalen brought up my . . . dislike of Rankin.”

“And she can read mine like a book,” Nolan nodded with a sheepish grin. “For better or for worse.”

“Well, I may be a little biased in this situation,” Frank smirked at him, moving his hand from the back of Nolan’s neck to cupping his cheek. “It’s for the better.”

“That’s usually the result when it comes to her matchmaking,” Nolan admitted with a smile as he nuzzled into Frank’s palm. “Call it her superpower.”

“You thank her, and I’ll thank Casey and Severide,” Frank grinned. “How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like that would be a very interesting double date,” Nolan admitted.

“Oh, definitely,” Frank agreed. “But since they’re not here, we’re not in Chicago, and we have a break ahead of us . . . can I take you on a date tomorrow night?”

“Yes,” Nolan nodded instantly, a mischievous glint turning his eyes hazel. “But like Sam’s been implying . . . we’ve kind of already been dating for a while, haven’t we?”

Frank snorted. “Shut up.”

Nolan smirked. “Make me.”

Frank wasn’t the type to miss a cue like that when it was provided, and he pulled Nolan in for a kiss, the younger man instantly digging his fingers into Frank’s shoulder to pull him closer. Even if Frank wasn’t otherwise occupied, he wouldn’t have complained because after days of not seeing Nolan outside of court appearances, he was greedy for as much of him as he could get. All he had expected when he arrived at the courthouse was an attempt to mend the bridges they had been so careful when building after Nelson’s trial. This had absolutely not been his plan, but he far preferred this outcome over anything else.

He only broke away from the kiss when his lungs screamed for oxygen, but Nolan merely inclined his head so their foreheads rested against each other, so close that Frank could feel him, too, work to regain his breath. “We have a lot to figure out,” he whispered.

“I know,” Nolan nodded. “But it can wait for now.” His eyes sharpened, giving Frank a predatory look that made adrenaline pump through him. “Because unless you had other plans, I’m keeping you for the night.”

Frank grinned wolfishly at the promise in Nolan’s voice. “I did say you were stuck with me.”

Nolan’s nonverbal response was to initiate the next kiss, this one almost bruising in force.

Ben: So Lily

Ben: Any idea why Sylvie is so happy by the idea that your dad owes my guardians drinks the next time he sees them?

Griffin: Excuse me?

Lily: Did he really say that?

Ben: Called while on the line with Uncle Nolan apparently

Ben: And Uncle Nolan also owes her a drink

Ben: I’m so confused

Lily: No way

Lily: I’m not

Lily: Tell them I get to hug them the next time I see them

Griffin: Now I’m confused

Ben: Me too

Ben: But Sylvie says she’ll collect

Lily: And now I get to interrogate my dad the next time I see him

Lily: I love my life

Griffin: I am missing information here and I don’t like it

Ben: Join the club