The Friday after she and Rachel had first slept together, Lauren found herself in her downstairs bathroom again, earphones in her ears, laptop on her lap, watching Rachel staring right at her, upside down, half hanging off her bed while Al thrust himself into her. 

They were both gleaming wet and foamy, fresh out of a bubble bath, continuing their fun on the bed and ruining the sheets. They were in serious danger of falling off, but they didn't seem to care. The two of them in simple missionary was inordinately arousing for Lauren, simply because she couldn't do that with Joe, and she was masturbating furiously as she pictured, first, herself on top of Rachel as she'd been that Monday, just as wet together on that same bed and, second, though she would have to examine this later, herself under Al, legs locked around his waist, hanging on to him for dear life so she didn't fall off the bed. 

Maybe she imagined Al because it just happened to be him on that screen, as if he were the actor in whatever porn she was watching, there in her head just long enough to do the job and then forgotten later. That had to be it. Still, he was giving it to Rachel good, and Lauren came more than once to their show.

They'd just finished when Rachel's phone suddenly rang. Rachel got herself up to answer it. Lauren was almost disappointed, hoping there would be more even though she knew Al probably didn't have any fuel left in the tank. She thought maybe she should leave this Skype call, when Rachel answered. "Hi, Julia."

Julia? That was patsy #3, and they'd been waiting on her response for weeks on whether or not she would play along entrapping Martin Heath. Had she finally decided?

Rachel's face winced as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line. "Slow down, Julia, slow down," she said. "Say that again?"

Rachel's mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened in horror. "Oh, Jesus," she breathed. "Holy fucking God, why did you...?"

Al touched her arm in concern, but she batted it away as she continued to listen.

"Okay, Julia," she said. "Stay there. Clean yourself up, but do not do anything else or call anybody. Text me your address and I'll be right over. You're downtown, right? Okay. Stay put."

She hung up, her shoulders slumped, and Al asked, "Rachel, what's going on?"

She turned to him and said, "Remember when you said you'd help me move a body out of my apartment if I asked?"

Al looked at her, stunned. "What are you saying?"

Lauren should have used her phone to call her, she had it with her in here, but she did the quicker and stupider thing: she turned her video feed back on, unmuted herself and said, "What the fuck?!"

Startled, Al turned around, and was mortified to see her face on the screen of the laptop in Rachel's room. Without thinking, he rolled himself off the bed and fell to the floor on the other side of it from the laptop. He reached for a pillow above him and pulled it over with him.

"Sorry, Lauren," Rachel said, chuckling. "I forgot you were still there."

Al peeked over the edge of the bed, saw the laptop, saw Lauren waving sheepishly at him. They were busted already, after only having exchanged shows once, and she knew that how Al reacted to this revelation was either going to change their friendships with each other or destroy them completely, and she was powerless to influence his decision from the other side of this screen.

"It's good you're still on the line, actually," Rachel continued, as if nothing at all remarkable had just happened. "I'm going to need your help too, and maybe Joe's. Hell, let's get the whole LSDC back together for one last tour."

"Rachel, you need to tell me what's going on," Al and Lauren said at the same time.

"Julia accidentally killed our CEO," Rachel announced.

"What the fuck?!" Lauren said again. Al could only stare.

"Although accident is a bit of a misnomer," Rachel continued. "She bit his penis off while she was going down on him, and the bleeding and shock gave the poor boy a heart attack."

"Oh my God," Al breathed.

"No one will believe that was an accident," Lauren said, too calmly for how she was feeling, "unless they both suddenly rolled off the bed and the collision with the floor snapped her mouth shut."

"I agree," Rachel said. "I think what really happened is Julia became fed up with knowing Martin was framing her and decided to just bite him. Maybe she didn't think she could actually bite it off, but it happened, and maybe she didn't expect him to die, but he did, and she's going to go to jail if we don't help her."

Al stared at her. "What do you think you're going to do?"

"We are all going to meet at Julia's place and decide," Lauren said, grabbing the crossword puzzle book and pen kept in the bathroom to occupy guests. "Joe and I will be there. What's the address?"

Rachel looked at the text that had come in and rattled it off. Lauren wrote it down. "Don't go in there until we get there," she told them. "I'm bringing booties and latex gloves."

She hung up, closed the laptop, sighed, took out her earphones, pulled up her pants, cleaned herself off and left the bathroom. "Joe!" she called. "We have a problem!"

Sunny was surprised by their request to look after Tosh and Naomi, under the guise of a late play date with Ajit and Harpreet, and he wasn't convinced by the reason for it, that Rachel needed them to help with a friend, but he saw the urgency in Lauren's eyes when she dropped them off, and the ghost of that camaraderie they'd felt when they'd ridden together back to the Trybek house must have lingered between them, because he nodded and simply asked that she keep him apprised of how late they would be if they were late.

The trip to Vancouver was quiet. Joe was fuming because he thought they were needlessly putting themselves in danger to help someone they didn't know. Lauren couldn't disagree with him, but she promised Rachel she would be there, and she knew that if they left Rachel to deal with this alone, she would be arrested, and Lauren could not let that happen, not when she'd just gotten her back. And if the Lawrence Street Detective Club could be brave at thirteen, why shouldn't they be brave now? She didn't ask Joe that, though, because she knew what his answer would be: because they had too much to lose, now.

She didn't even know what she was going to do yet, but she had an idea. There was a body in an apartment, and she needed to get rid of it. She was very aware of the leaving of evidence, and to make this work she had to remove all trace of it, at least to the naked eye. What she had to know first and foremost, though, was whether anyone knew Martin Heath was at Julia's apartment. If anyone did, no amount of disposal would be complete enough to prevent the police from finding out about Julia, and then about Rachel.

Seeing Al's relief at their arrival made her hopeful that he wasn't angry at her for earlier and would protect their secret, at least for now, but behind that relief was a subdued panic that she had to contain right away, or they would fail utterly. Rachel seemed fine, almost blase about the whole situation, even a little irritated, maybe because Julia had ruined their lovely evening, but Al needed a show of authority to keep him in line, so she tamped down her own fear and strapped on, just like she had when she'd grabbed her sword for the infiltration of the Trybek house.

Her shell of composure almost shattered completely, however, when she saw the pecker.

They were in Julia's apartment, wearing latex gloves and booties, and Lauren was scanning the room where the body lay, assessing how much work would be required to clean it. Then Rachel leaned in and lifted the sheet covering the injury.

Lauren's vision tunnelled, seeing only the dismembered penis for what seemed like a very long time. Suddenly she remembered what she'd asked not to remember of that day at the Trybek house. She remembered asking Al's dad to hypnotize her and lock that memory away, and now, seeing what she'd seen that day thirty years ago turned the key in that lock and the memory came roaring back, and she almost staggered with the realization that she'd been suppressing that memory for so long.

"You left it there?" Rachel said, looking up at Julia. She didn't notice Lauren's crisis, and Lauren felt fortunate that the larger problem commanded everyone's attention. She was sure she must have changed colour, because she'd felt the blood rush from her head.

Julia wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. "I don't know. I was just... so shocked when I realized I bit it off that... I think I just let it fall out of my mouth, and it landed where it landed."

Lauren made herself look away from the pecker, take a deep breath and get a grip. "Good, it all goes together," she said.

"So, just to be clear," Al said, "what are we actually planning to do?"

Joe and Lauren looked at each other. Rachel looked at them, then at Julia.

"Julia didn't call nine-one-one as soon as this happened," Lauren said. "Right away she's incriminated herself, and now that we're involved, every second we're here and not calling the police is making us complicit."

"Maybe I should just call the police and turn myself in," Julia said. "I shouldn't have asked you to put yourselves at risk for me."

"No."

Everyone turned to Rachel. She was shaking her head determinedly. "No. You do that, and then he's the victim, and you go to jail for just being fed up with his shit. This man sent one woman to jail, got me fired, and would have done the same to you, Julia. He was robbing from his own company and letting us take the fall for it. He doesn't get to be remembered as a tragic victim. He doesn't get to be mourned."

"So, what do we do? If we aren't calling the police then he can't just stay here," Julia said. "His wife is going to miss him, for one thing."

"His wife was clueless," Rachel said. "I really don't think she ever gave a shit where he was, as long as she could keep spending his money. I bet she even had a piece on the side for her own amusement while he was away. Hell, maybe she knew all about the embezzlement and benefited from it."

"Do you think anyone knew where he was tonight? Anyone at all?" Lauren asked. This was the question she needed answered before they did anything.

Julia shrugged. "He always claimed he told his wife he was working late. I don't think he would have told the people he was working with that he was seeing his mistress, especially after... well... you," she said to Rachel. "And his phone hasn't pinged once since he got here."

"Okay, so he disappears," Lauren said, "and no one ever thinks to ask you where he was, because no one knows he was seeing you."

Later, she'd made it seem like it had all gone smoothly, but after Al helped her and Joe load the body, rolled in the bedsheets, a shower curtain, and a rug from Julia's living room, into their van, it was hours of high alert action.

Joe had to pull out of the parking garage and drive smoothly away, careful not to do anything to alert any authorities. Then they drove to Main and Hastings to get rid of the phone and credit cards. This was the riskiest part of the entire operation, because the Downtown Eastside always had a patrol car somewhere in the neighbourhood, keeping an eye on things. Lauren knew the neighbourhood well, though, from her years as a security guard walking beats at various sites, and she kept in contact with the owners of many seedy establishments; they fed her information on cases that had connections in the area, and she sent recompense their way. 

Tonight she visited a bar she knew to have no CCTV cameras, and gifted the man behind the bar some valuable merchandise in exchange for zipped lips on the provenance of said merchandise, while Joe circled the block, trying not to look like a John on the hunt.

When they were safely away, Lauren thought back to the Pickton years and about how easy it was for someone to disappear from this area, just hop into a van, like she did after she called Joe and he met her at the next block down at Hawkes Avenue, and never be seen again. The risk for working women increased because their livelihood depended on staying one step ahead of the cops, and the predators took advantage of that vulnerability. If the work was decriminalized, and some kind of regulated industry established, maybe the city could prevent another Pickton from happening.

"Tell me you had your hand on your zapper the whole time you were in there," Joe said as they continued down Hastings into East Van.

"What? In the bar? Nah. Are you kidding? I felt safer in there than I did at that nightclub where Mr. Old Money MacDougall spiked my drink. Those guys down there are all right, a little rough around the edges, maybe some mental illness, but good souls when you get to know them. They just want to get by like everyone else."

"I was getting looks from working girls as I passed by. I felt bad about getting their hopes up."

"Aw. Anyone catch your interest?"

He barked laughter and shook his head.

"You said you had a couple of sites in mind," she said. "Are you proposing putting him in the foundation?"

Joe nodded. "I can't believe I've become a cliche. Don't they do this in all the mob movies?"

"Yes. But you have to admit it's effective. A burial site that's nearly impossible to uncover, the smell is masked, and no one will discover the body until the building is torn down long after we're gone, hopefully."

"Lauren, if we're going to do this, I'm going to need help. I'll be mixing the concrete in a hand mixer, it'll be less noisy and attention-getting than a pumping truck arriving at the site in the middle of the night, but it's noisy enough, and the longer I'm at it, the more likely it will draw someone's ear and eye. If we had one person mixing and another spreading we could be away quicker."

"I could help you."

He gave her a quick once over, and she knew what he was looking at: a small woman who'd never mixed concrete before, who would only slow him down.

What he said surprised her, though. "I love you for offering, but there's another thing you need to be doing. As you know, there's always a security guard on site."

"Gotcha. If you let me know which site, I'll call HQ to get them to call the guard away and reassign them to another location or send them home. So, who else are you thinking of to help?"

"There's only one person I can trust enough to do this and ask no questions. Johnny."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay. I'll make the calls."

The excuse Lauren gave for reassigning the guard was that the two brothers who owned the company were visiting the site to inspect it themselves and review their plans, and that they would pay the guard for their time regardless. Justiciar was aware that Lauren was married to one of the owners, so her call counted as official. Once Johnny reached the site first, and the guard left, he called them and told them all was clear.

When they pulled up, Johnny directed their van to a corner of the development that was not in the sight lines of any neighbouring houses. The three of them stood looking at each other for a moment.

"I don't want to know what it is we're burying," Johnny said.

"It would be best if you didn't anyway," Lauren said.

"I just want to know... did you two have anything to do with it needing to be buried?"

"No," Joe said.

Johnny nodded. "Good. Then my conscience is clear."

Lauren knew now why Johnny was the perfect choice. Not only did he have complete loyalty to his brother, but his years in construction made him a dab hand at mixing concrete quickly and well, and he was already getting a batch done by the time Joe unloaded the bundle from the back of the van. The corner of foundation they put him in was small enough that they only needed to pour enough concrete to cover the body and another few feet to complete the fill. When workers arrived at the site in the morning, they would find a nearly dry and solid fill, and the checklist ticked for that area, and think nothing of it.

While they were doing the work, Lauren strolled the ground in a jacket with the Justiciar logo that she kept handy in the van for extra warmth. If anyone was drawn to the noise, she would be there to reassure them that anything happening on the site was sanctioned and would be brief, a last minute emergency that needed addressing.

When they were done, they cleaned their shovels and sprayed down the work area. Before they left, Lauren said, "Should we get the guard back?"

"I say no," Johnny said. "I'd be worried about the guard noticing something different about the site from when they left."

"Won't you be worried about equipment being stolen?"

"I think it's a risk we'll have to take," Joe said. "The heavy equipment is completely locked, and that's all that matters. If we lose some pipe we lose some pipe."

"I'll stay here a while and keep an eye out," Johnny said. "Maybe you could come by a little earlier in the morning, Joe, and check things out before the crew comes."

"Good idea. Then I'll get the van detailed. My clothes are a little crusty with concrete, so I'll need to do it anyway."

"Yes, and make sure they concentrate on the cargo space."

They all nodded, and suddenly they had nothing more to say. Lauren hugged Johnny. "Thank you for helping us. I don't know what we'd have done without you."

"Don't mention it. I'm glad you called me."

They drove off, still tense and jumpy, but when they finally got the kids from Sunny's, they had their parent faces on. Lauren got them because she didn't want to explain the concrete on Joe's clothes to Sunny.

To Sunny's credit, all he said was, "We filled your kids with sugar. Have fun putting them to bed tonight."

Lauren was so relieved they'd gotten away with it that she burst out laughing and couldn't stop. Sunny placed a solicitous hand on her shoulder, and then she thought she might cry, the reversal both shocked her and didn't. "Thanks, Sunny," she said. "I don't think we'll be going to bed right away anyway."

His eyebrows rose. "Is everything all right? You were gone a while."

She sighed. "Yes. I think it is. But time will tell."

He stared at her in silence for a moment. Then he nodded. "Good night, Lauren."

Lauren threw her arms around him. "Goodnight, Sunny, and thank you. Thank you."

On the way home, she called Rachel and told her the good news. The kids didn't even notice anything was amiss, they were too busy telling them about the junk food they'd eaten and the Disney movies they'd watched at Sunny's house. Daddy's dirty clothes were never remarked upon; the children were inured to his state of dress no matter the hour.

Finally, finally, they returned home, and Lauren did her best to wrangle the kids while Joe had a shower, and for the first time she didn't wish she was in there with him. Burying a body did a lot to kill the libido.

In the early hours of the morning, when everyone was put to bed, Lauren finally allowed herself the luxury of tears, and Joe held her to him, and she felt safe and warm. Joe was her husband. He was her home.

"Joe," she whispered. "Oh, God, Joe, I cut off Mr. Trybek's pecker, didn't I."

She felt him start. "Uh, yeah, honey. Why do you bring that up? Did you forget?"

"Yes. Yes I did. Or, I should say, I was made to forget. Al's dad locked the memory away for me during a hypnosis session after it happened. When I saw Martin Heath's pecker tonight, I remembered again. Oh, God, it was horrible."

He stroked her hair. "Oh, honey, I didn't know. And we never talked about it because, well, it was horrible. But you did it to save Rachel, and to save us. Don't ever feel bad about that."

"I just hate thinking about it. The image is burned in my mind."

He thought about it for a moment as he kept stroking her hair. "Well, do you think you could do it again? Get it locked away?"

She looked at him. "I don't know. Maybe there was some use to it when I was a kid; it helped me move on, and I could grow up without the knowledge of what I'd done, so it wouldn't weigh on me. I'm no longer a child, though, so maybe it's time for me to live with this, process it properly and see it the way you see it."

He nodded. "All right. In the meantime, let's try to sleep. Things will look better in the morning."

She burrowed into him, and though he was warm and cozy, she couldn't sleep until the sun peeked over the horizon. Luckily the kids slept later than usual due to their late night, but poor Joe still had to get up with them first. Seeing as he had to get to the site early to make sure no one stole anything, though, she didn't feel too bad for him.

In the first novel of this series, I wrote this scene through Al's point of view, so we never got to see what Lauren and Joe did once they left with the body. Thanks for reading this far! If you like what you just read, please hit the "Vote" button and send this title up the ranks. If something doesn't ring true about the ins and outs of foundation pouring, leave a comment. I strive for authenticity. To get back to Al and Lauren's next road trip in the present day, click on "Continue reading."