As soon as King Gillian knew Russell was in town, the dinner invitation for his daughter and grandson was extended to him too. It was a nice, smooth evening, and King Gillian didn't object when his daughter called it a night soon after the coffee. He walked them to the door and out to the porch.

"It's been good seeing you again, son," he said, shaking Russell's hand. "And you know you will always be welcome to join the family."

Russell frowned and Gillian scowled at his father. "You mean rejoin, right, Dad? The force."

"Nah, I already gave up on that long ago. He's been a fed for too long to want him back in the Department. But you two are still a good match."

Russell chuckled as Gillian glared at her father. It was always the same. Whenever Russell was around, everybody made that sort of smart comment. Why was it so hard for people to get that they cared about each other, but they didn't want each other?

Connor faced them, nodding his agreement. "See? I'm not the only one."

King Gillian rounded his grandson's shoulders with his arm, about to keep going, but frowned. "Jesus, boy! You're almost taller than me! Stop growing, you hear me?" Then he turned to pat Russell's shoulder. "And you, don't be a stranger now that you're in town."

"Yessir."

Russell and Connor headed to the cars as King Gillian turned to his daughter.

"Take care, Reg," he said.

"You too, Dad. Love you."

As usual, King Gillian only nodded in response. She smiled at him one last time and hurried to catch up with her son.

She was about to collapse on her bed, after hardly sleeping for the past three days, when her phone buzzed. It was Elizabeth Bennings, the District Attorney. Which reminded her of Henderson. She had to call him, or meet him, to wrap things up with him. Oh, and give him Bennings' number.

"You know we have nothing here but circumstantial evidence and hear-saying," said Bennings as soon as Gillian picked up.

She didn't waste her breath in greeting the woman either, and just replied, "We have their testimonies and the tampered hospital records."

"But not a shred of physical evidence to prove the boy did it."

"The boy is dead, Beth, we're not going after him."

"I know, Reg, but there are still too many blanks we cannot fill in. Why didn't any of the parents go to the police in the first place? I mean, it's nuts! Your baby girl is assaulted and you don't report it?"

"Beth, I don't pretend to be inside those parents' heads, okay? You can charge them too for negligence, for all I care. But really, how many sexual assaults are actually reported? Twenty percent? Thirty? We're lucky we have enough to go after that scumbag principal, and the Johnsons' doctor. And the hospital doctors who changed their reports."

"And what about the girls that killed him?"

"You'll have them by Monday tops. One of them has already agreed to turn herself in. We're working on the other two."

"And our little bomber?"

"No luck there, so he's all yours to lock him up till Doomsday." The other woman let out a sharp chuckle that made Gillian shake her head. "You like blood."

"I like terrorists locked away. Gotta go now, Reg. See you on Monday."

"Good night."

Gillian disconnected, tempted to turn her phone off, but she didn't. Two minutes later she was sound asleep.