It was actually damn scary how easily the money flowed in for us. With even only a portion of the corruption and graft cleared out of the way, a lot of these companies flourished like never before. Profit margins were bigger than they had ever been in the company's history, not because of price raises or hurting their workers, but because they were able to be productive and not have to pay protection money or waste time on rackets ran by criminals.
I agreed with Patrick on the idea building in his head that Dennis Fernandez had planted. Patrick was uniquely positioned as the swing vote, and he was a natural charismatic leader of the people. With a Mayoral election coming up at the same time, Patrick's original shortened term as a council member was wrapping up, maybe there was a bigger brass ring that Patrick could reach for? We had to do some serious thinking and strategizing. Patrick himself devoted a lot of energy to the idea, reading up on politics and political science theory.
Political ambitions aside, that wasn't the reason I was putting on my Snowman uniform that particular night, three days after Valentine's Day. Patrick watched me come downstairs and into the gym where he was catching a quick workout. He was coming along well, putting down his kettle bell as he turned and shook his head. "You sure you don't want me to come along with you?"
"No, but I do want you ready for a patrol of Filmore Heights tomorrow night," I replied. "I just want to check on Scott Pressman. I should be back by eleven in fact."
Patrick nodded. "Okay. But be careful out there."
"That's Sophie's line," I replied with a laugh. "So what's your plan for the evening?"
"The three of us were going to go over blueprints the architect sent over," he said. "We're trying to decide the floor plan for the extension. Sophie's favoring the four bedroom plan, but Tabby and I want to do the five. You guys never know, you might have a couple more kids, and still having a home office would be helpful."
"Perhaps. Then again, I could just take over your old bedroom here," I said with a chuckle. "Or just move the home office up to the bell tower. Probably safer with kids running around the house. By the way, Tabby...?"
"Nah, not this month," Patrick replied. He turned back to his kettle bell and picked it up, swinging it in smooth arcs. "False alarm."
I nodded. After they'd started having sex again, it didn't take long for both Tabby and Patrick to acknowledge to Sophie and I that they wanted to have a baby as well. They were going about it the old fashioned way, that was for sure. It had gotten so frequent in fact that Sophie had gotten me an early Valentine's gift, a pair of Moto Surround wireless in-ear headphones for my time in the gym. It helped. As much as I loved them, we really did need to get construction rolling for their house.
Going into the dining room, I found Sophie and Tabby, Andrea in her little carrier in between them sleeping soundly. Kissing my daughter on the forehead, I stroked her hair with a finger. It was still nearly platinum blonde, but I knew it would darken up as she got older. "Okay guys, I'm going out to Pressman's."
Tabby's lip curled only a little bit, but having Patrick in her life had done more than time had for healing her inner hatred. Sophie took my gloved hand and squeezed it. "You want me on come?”
"Nah, nothing you need to worry about," I said. I looked at my wife's face, just as awestruck by her as I was by my daughter. She was even more beautiful than when we'd first met. Leaning in, I gave her a kiss, which quickly grew hot and passionate.
"Ahem, there are children here," Tabby admonished us primly. "Oh, and Andrea too."
"Later," Sophie whispered as we parted. If I needed any more motivation to stay safe, I don't know what it could have been.
The ride out to Scott Pressman's house was refreshing, the frigid air clearing my mind and letting me focus. I found Pressman putting his son to sleep as I arrived, pausing in the doorway of his room to watch the sleeping boy. The expression on his face gave me hope for him.
"You should have waited," he said when he came out into the kitchen to find me sitting at his dining room table. "It's not like I don't have a winter coat."
"More comfortable in here. I wiped my feet though," I said. I'd turned off the overhead light, leaving the small light that was over his cooking range on to cast the room in shadow. "How're you doing?"
"He still cries at night sometimes," Scott said, looking back at his son's room and ignoring the main portion of the question, "but he's getting past it. Thankfully, the coverage of it was pretty low on details, so even if he goes poking around, he's not going to know the full details of what Melinda was into. Guess I was lucky that two of the gunmen she hired were Owen Lynch's former cops. The department didn't want another black eye on its hands so quickly, and the city DA has enough on his plate. Lucky for you too, I assume. You know, I never asked you, did you do it?"