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chapter 24: Fallout

Tyrone “King” Fischer’s federal trial had marked the end of an era in New York: the entire crime structure falling like a house of cards on the morning he was taken into custody. Information from the trial had been closely monitored, a gag order preventing the smallest details from emerging in the press. Despite the lack of official information, the trial gripped the city like a fever, news agencies staking out the courthouse, chasing the lawyers down the street. It was whispered that there’d been a mole inside the mafia family the entire time: Gina Cerritos’s name was bandied about. Whoever it was had willingly traded their information for the protection that came from the feds. And in the end, King, and eight of his closest confidantes, Luca Brin included, were convicted.

Indigo didn’t care. She was just glad it was over.

Her life, more than ever, had a new start, but the victory felt empty. Jude Alden was officially missing, but everyone knew he, like Marq Lopez, was likely dead. She and Elliot got together in the spring, sharing a bottle of Jack Daniels and burning a pile of Jude’s old clothing and comic books on the roof of Indigo’s apartment, crying together as they said goodbye.

The last item Indigo threw in was his note.

Tonight she sat side by side with Shireese, watching videos on her newly-purchased laptop. She would be graduating soon, and moving off on her own, but for now, she was content to have one last night when everything was the same. On the spur of the moment, she clicked open her documentary. The two of them watched, in silence, as the film played: Indigo’s life summarized in snapshots and music, pictures of her flickering from childhood through adolescence, the images morphing into the woman she was today.

The last section of the film was the very first scene Indigo had edited months earlier in Professor Yamamoto’s class: she and Shireese drinking beer on the roof of the apartment building, the two of them dancing at O’Reilly’s, the apartment in disarray, Indigo asleep on the couch, Tanis standing next to Shireese at a concert, Indigo laughing behind them. Joy and friendship and life lived.

The music faded, and one final scene appeared.

It was Indigo, staring out the window of a train, the light flickering in the darkness. Indigo looked up at the camera, frowning. From offscreen, a voice appeared.

“So was it worth it?” Jude asked.

Indigo cleared her throat, eyes red-rimmed and weary.

“What’s that?”

“Going home again,” the voice answered. “Seeing your mother after all that time.”

She chewed her lip, then nodded.

“Yeah,” she answered. “It was.” She put her head back against the glass, turning away from him. “It was a… good start.”

For a few seconds, the camera rested on her profile, focusing and refocusing on her face.

“Thanks,” Jude said, almost to himself. “For letting me come along.”

Indigo didn’t answer.

The camera jiggled, and the screen went back, the music fading away to nothing. Both women were sobbing, the apartment more empty than it’d been minutes before.

“He’s really gone, isn’t he?” Indigo choked.

Shireese reached out, pulling her into her arms.

“He is,” she whispered. “But you’re still here...”

: : : : : : : : : :

Fran saw Nathan through the crowd. He was small and wiry, his hair short again, much more the bright-eyed cadet she remembered, rather than the wearied undercover agent he’d become over the years. She waited by the other delegates, smiling as he neared.

“It’s good to see you again, Nathan,” Fran said. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here once the trial ended.”

“Time enough to head off on vacation,” he laughed. “I want to make sure the last loose ends are tied up before I go.”

“Glad to hear it,” Fran said with a smile. “I owe you one.”

He shook his head, his expression pained, and then controlled once more. The time had changed him, and even a new haircut couldn’t put all of it back.

“Just doing my job, Commissioner.”

“Have you thought of what you’ll do next?” she asked. “Now that you’re back on the force?”

Nathan tipped his head to the side, considering.

“Well, I’ve got a backlog of paperwork to do,” he chuckled, “but after that I thought I might consider being a detective. A desk job might be a nice change.”

Fran smirked.

“Detective Patel,” she said with a wink. “I like it.”