Page 66 of Sullied Saints

“Let’s go home.”

Epilogue

Ayearandahalf later. Spring.

Crennick is levelled, already becoming a memory underneath what’s growing in its place. That’s right.Growing. The charcoal of the ruins went a long way to soaking up the toxins which killed anything that tried to sprout before. Now, they're trying a thing called phytoremediation.

Something to do with using plants to leech out what toxins are left. And it’s working—we see the barren swath as large as several suburbs turn gradually greener each week from our balcony. There’s even birdsong some mornings.

As for the crime in the city, it’s dropped, proving right the voices that insisted that having such a good place to do crime led to more of it. We’re down twenty percent, and about to be knocked off the top of the highest crime rate list, with the potential to drop much further. Drug use is on a similar trajectory, with their preferred hideouts and trading spots all gone.

The bones and remains found in the clearance led to many cold cases being shut, and that’s most of what Dirk and I worked on this past year after the fake Cocooner was arrested right from our own cells. She was a quiet, mousy woman who basically confessed the minute we pressured her. Partners still, Dirk and I then closed a handful of cold cases. The perpetrators were mostly either long dead or in prison already for a different crime, but we had some arrests made, too.

That was before we quit.

Today marks the first week of Dirk’s unemployment, before starting up again as a PI, and it’s my last week before I join him. We’ve had enough madness and murder for both our lifetimes by now.

Howie lasted six months before he begged his way back from retirement, becoming a professional consultant two days a week at the precinct, spending most of those days working with Dean on whatever case he’s on. Or he spends his time lingering in the lab with Rosie. Sometimes I wonder if they’d have a more successful retirement if they tried it together.

Chloe worked her way up as fast as we all expected and is now employed at the precinct, bouncing between the lab, semi-partner to Dean, and still acting as an admin girl. She’s certainly a woman of many hats.

As for Conrad, I stood up for him in court. He was broken, hurting and desperate when he did what he did. In the end, he only served a year for inciting public unrest. I’m glad to see him running for mayor again. People are saying someone who’s served time will never be elected, but he’s looking popular so far.

As for Needler, as far as the city is concerned, he’s gone. For now, or forever, none of us can say. But he sure left a legacy Tregam won’t soon forget. Especially since the popular vote pushed hard enough to have a statue of a man in a silver mask, a needle clutched in one fist, erected in the new centre of Crennick.

There were rumours of having a dismembered Cocooner built at his feet, but that was where the council drew the line.

Oh, and Dirk and I married. It was fast, a small affair where his mother cried happy tears for the whole thing, and Howie walked me down the aisle. Meanwhile, my mother flew in to at least learn Dirk’s name.

We’re still in that penthouse apartment, overlooking the slow change that’s taking over Crennick.

"Dirk!" I squeal, half a laugh as I dodge around the end of the bed.

He was supposed to still be asleep when I left for work. He wasn’t, and now he’s got ideas that are not conducive to me being on time. That’s how he’s ended up chasing me around the room naked.

I feint right, and Dirk takes the bait, coming around the base of the bed, but when I jump onto the mattress instead, aiming to run across it and cut for the door, Dirk reacts too fast, meeting me at the edge of the bed and taking my legs out from under me so that I fall heavily back onto the quilt.

He's on top of me in an instant, hands imprisoning mine, and my heavy breathing is from far more than the exertion. "That was fun. Maybe I should chase around the apartment next time?"

I feel him between my legs, already hard, the wet tip of him on my labia as my bathrobe falls up and open. "Maybeyou should save your energy. I need to get to work."

"Come on," Dirk barters, leaning down and nipping my ear in a way he knows makes me weak in the knees. "What’s the point of the chase if I don't get to enjoy the catch?"

"I'm not a deer. And Tawill is mad enough at me."

"So? You’re quitting, remember? We’re gonna go take rich people’s money for spying on their wives or whatever instead."

“That should be our slogan,” I say wryly.

"Come on, just a quickie?"

It’s kind of nice, this being wanted so much. But then, having a good reference is nice too. "You're lying."

"Mm," Dirk hums, far from denying it. Then he tilts his hips, his tip parting me. I gasp, quickly losing resistance as he presses, sliding deeper.

I make a noise that is definitely not one of protest, and then he's flush over me. "This isn't… good… self-control," I gasp as he thrusts.

Rasping against my ear, Dirk observes, "My therapist says a healthy sex life is important for taking control back."

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