Disclaimer:  Tracy and Nick are the property of Sony and the brainchildren of 
James Parriot.  No copyright infringement is intended.  Mitchell, on the other 
hand, is all my own invention.


Working Graveyard
by Anne Jensen (ajensen@west.net)


The call had come in.  It was all approved.  She consulted the paper she'd been 
handed.  For the next week or so, she'd be working in the Homicide Division.  
And not just any homicide division.  She'd be working in the 96th with Nick 
Knight, the cop who'd made headlines by collaring Dollard.  It was a rookie 
detective's dream come true.

Or it would be--if she were just any rookie detective.  But no, it had happened 
again (not that she'd expected anything else).  Her father had pulled strings 
and, where he hadn't, the magic of his last name had.  One week in homicide, 
which she'd spend with the media "hero".  She'd be lucky if she actually saw a 
body, let alone conduct an investigation into the murder.  She knew the drill:  
she'd be given a tour (for which her partner would, no doubt, have been briefed 
to "keep her safe") and then get transferred somewhere where she could make a 
few headlines of her own­away from the streets--on her way up the law 
enforcement ladder, all under the auspices of Daddy.

Just once she'd like to show everyone--including herself--what she was really 
capable of.  She'd spent five years on the street and enjoyed the little bit of 
action she'd seen there.  Not the down sides, of course­the beatings, the 
thefts, the broken lives; but the sense that she was really making a difference.

Maybe if she changed her name and moved to the States she could escape the neon 
sign over her head flashing "Commissioner's Daughter:  Proceed with extreme 
caution" as her last boyfriend had called it when he'd broken up with her six 
months ago.  She couldn't blame him.  Most guys got scared off by her father.  
She gave them points if they still wanted to go out with her once they 
discovered whose daughter she was.  And Heaven help them if Dad didn't approve.

Oh well, Dad was Dad, and he'd never change.  Nothing was too good for his 
little girl.

She checked the message.  According to what the desk sergeant had written, she 
was supposed to report to the 96th at 9.  Fine.  She'd sleep in till 7 tomorrow 
morning, eat a leisurely breakfast and make it in plenty of time.

"Heading home, Trace?" Lieutenant Mitchell asked.

She liked Mitchell.  He'd been her Uncle Sonny's partner, and, while he tended 
to treat her like the little girl she'd been back in those days, he was still 
practically family.  Waving the paper at him, she answered, "Nah.  The transfer 
came through and Dad wants to take me out to dinner at Azure tonight to 
celebrate."

"So you're leaving us, then."  Mitchell commented.  It wasn't a real surprise, 
though.  With her near perfect record, she'd have been up for a promotion even 
if her father hadn't been the commissioner.

She nodded.  "As of tomorrow, I'll be at the 96th, working in Metro Homicide and 
partnered to the one and only Nicholas B. Knight, certified hero, while his 
partner is off in Edmonton testifying in the case against Dollard."

"Well, it's been great having you here.  You were a big help to us in cracking 
that bank robbery.  But I suppose it was time to move on."

"I guess."  Tracy wasn't sure that she wanted to move on, but the decision had 
already been made for her.  And speaking of the timeŠ "I'd better get going.  
The sooner I get there, the sooner I can get home and hit the sack.  My shift 
starts at nine in the morning, and I don't want to be late."

Mitchell stared at her.  "Nine in the morning?  You sure about that?"

Tracy rechecked the paper, wondering if she'd misread it.  But no, the "nine" 
was spelled out.  No chance she'd made a mistake there.  "It says right here, 
'nine'."  

Mitchell shook his head.  "No, I mean the morning part."

Tracy's eyes dropped to the paper one more time.  It hadn't said AM or PM, she'd 
just assumedŠ  "Why wouldn't it be in the morning?"

A twinkle appeared in his eyes at her bewilderment.  "Obviously you haven't 
heard about Knight.  The 'certified hero' has one weakness:  he's allergic to 
sunlight."

How could anyone be allergic to sunlight?  And how could they be an effective 
cop if they couldn't go out during the day?

"Because of his allergy, Knight's the one cop in all of Toronto who's 
permanently assigned to the night shift," Mitchell continued.  "Probably just as 
well.  The way the man solves cases, he'd be a commissioner himself now, if he 
could work days.  Of course, that's assuming he'd take the promotion.  I've met 
the guy a few times, and he seems to be about as interested in rising in the 
ranks as a duck is in a featherbed.  Seems to like working the street.  Like 
he's on a mission, or something. "  Shaking his head, Mitchell added.  "You 
know, *he's* the one who should be going to Edmonton to testify.  They'd even 
have gone out of their way to accommodate his allergy if he did.  But no, he 
feels he has to stay here and continue to do his part to put away the scum bags 
on the streets."  He sighed.  "You don't find too many cops like that these 
days."

He stared off into space a moment.  Tracy, assuming that he was lost in memories 
of another time, waited, trying to find a way to extricate herself before this 
turned into an "I remember the old days..." session.  Funny how according to the 
stories, in the old days, everything had been perfect:  criminals were ten times 
worse, and cops had fewer resources, but they'd done a better job than the ones 
of a more modern era.  Even on a good day, those stories wore down her patience 
*fast*.

Luckily, this time she didn't have to wait it out.  Within moments, Lieutenant 
Mitchell's eyes focused on her again.  "You could learn a lot from him, Tracy.  
He's a good cop."  Which, for Mitchell, was the ultimate praise.  He smiled at 
her.  "I'll let you get on to your dinner.  You'll need your rest if you want to 
make a good impression on him and your new captain tomorrow night."

"Actually, if you're right about the PM thing, I'll be sleeping in for longer 
than I'd thought tomorrow."  She smiled a little.

"Well just make sure you get that rest," he reminded her and, turning to head  
for the locker room, called in parting.  "Say hi to your Uncle for me.  And tell 
him that Diane and I have him in our prayers."

"I will," she called back, waving, and sank back in her chair to contemplate the 
new wrinkle this tour of duty in homicide had put before her.  It seemed that 
there was more to her new partner than she'd realized previously, things that 
everyone knew except her.  If there was one thing Tracy hated, it was being kept 
in the dark.  Well, there was an easy way to remedy *that*.  She was a 
detective, after all, and she had all day tomorrow before she had to report at 
the 96th, if what Mitchell had said was true.  That was more than enough time to 
do a little bit of research on her new partner.  Nothing illegal, of course, but 
enough so that she had some idea of who she was going to be working with for the 
next week.  Who knew?  Maybe she'd get a chance to *really* prove her stuff, 
this time around.  

*Yeah, right Vetter,* the more logical part of her mind pointed out, *and maybe 
the man of your dreams will fall out of the sky and land in your lap.*  

It was a change of scenery, though, and she'd be a liar if she didn't admit to 
looking forward to it a little.  Even if she didn't get the full experience of 
what it was like to catch killers, she'd at least be getting a taste of it.  In 
any case, she didn't have time to spend moping about what was already done.  She 
had good-byes to say, a dinner to get to and a little investigating of her own 
to plan.  So, with mixed feelings, she picked up her jacket from where she'd 
draped it over her chair and headed out to begin the next chapter of her life.

Fin.

Comments, etc, can be sent to: 

Anne Jensen
ajensen@west.net
Perk (light and Dark), T+Vpack, and "Vettern" of War 9