Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

turned to Ty with a raised eyebrow. “Never thought I'd see the day when you were the calm part of the equation,” he remarked in amusement.
    "Yeah, well. I'm the calm one, you're the smart one,” Ty sighed as he stood slowly. “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa."
    Pierce sat back with a satisfied chuckle. “What'd you do to get stuck with that fucking suit?” he asked Ty.
    Ty walked around the table slowly, hands in his pockets as if he were idly wandering the room. He stopped behind Pierce's chair and bent over him, placing a not-so-friendly hand on his shoulder. The man stiffened nervously, turning his head slightly as if he expected Ty to actually hurt him. “Be seein’ y'all later,” Ty drawled in a low, friendly voice before he straightened back up and left the room.
    Pierce relaxed and gave a small sigh, shaking his head in annoyance.
    As soon as Ty had closed the door behind him, Holleman turned in his chair and glared at Pierce. “I know it's fun to poke them, but Christ, man, what the hell?” he asked.
    Pierce snorted and waved his partner off. “They needed to be knocked off those damn high horses they always ride in on. But hey, at least we don't have to worry about a serious Fed investigation."
    Holleman frowned and shook his head. “I don't know. Grady doesn't seem to give a shit, but Garrett seemed pretty ... into it."
    Pausing, Pierce turned to eye his partner. “Don't let him fool you. I've had the rundown from Serena Scott on that one. Garrett used to be slightly useful, but now he's got a bad record and gets shuffled around. He's probably blowing somebody in DC."
    "Or he fucked Serena and ran off so she's pissed,” Holleman pointed out in amusement. “Look, whatever. I don't know about you, but I'm more than happy to hand this over to them. Let them chase their tails with this whackjob so we get back to our real jobs."
    "But they're our cases in our backyard, and I don't want them out there screwing around,” Pierce insisted.
    Holleman frowned slightly. “Why not?” he asked curiously.
    Pierce's shoulders stiffened, and his face darkened. “'Cause Feebs don't belong on the street. They make us all look bad, that's why. And Garrett's a prick."
    "So are you,” Holleman laughed fondly. “Come on. I'm hungry."
    Pierce muttered under his breath and followed his partner out.
    * * * *
    Zane pushed roughly through the reading room door, ramming it back against the wall as he stalked in, immediately pulling out his cigarettes and lighting up. No smoking policy be damned, he thought darkly. After such a piss-poor day, he figured he deserved something for not going totally postal up there.
    After the first cigarette, he stopped long enough to light another and kicked a chair for good measure, sending it clattering across the room.
    Ty took his time following, visibly irritated enough that people got out of the way as he walked through the halls. He opened the door to the reading room—the only place he really knew to look—and was just in time to watch the little tantrum silently.
    "What the hell do you want?” Zane growled as he flicked ashes onto the industrial-grade carpet. He didn't have to be polite to Ty. He didn't even have to be civil.
    "What's the problem?” Ty asked calmly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants and leaning against the doorway.
    Zane turned his back to Ty to stare at the whiteboard. Some of their notes were still written on it from the day the computer exploded. He forcibly calmed himself and buttoned up the anger and frustration. “They're assholes. That's the problem."
    "I'll tell them to go play in another sandbox, then,” Ty responded wryly.
    "They shouldn't even be in the one they've got if they're so blasé and uncaring as to suggest two young women deliberately lured the killer to their house for sex,” Zane spit out.
    "That's how they're programmed to think,” Ty responded in a patient voice.
    The unusually placid sound of Ty's voice did the trick. Against Zane's will—because he really wanted to stay angry—the heat drained out of him, replaced by a hollow chill. “I just kept thinking,” he said quietly, “about how scared those girls must have been. And here they are sitting and laughing and making light while that bastard is out there, probably picking out his next victim.” He gave his head a tiny shake, taking another long drag on the cigarette.
    "Wait ‘til he kills a few men in blue. Then they'll be all over it,” Ty