Corruption

[Oxidizer]

Type of Story Short/Medium Fic - Trilogy

Main Characters Zoe McCallister, Tracey Thompson

BTTB Rating T

Genre Romance/Angst

Does story include spoilers? No

Warning(s) Implied girl/girl and sexual inuendo

Summary How a Senior Detective helped the most dangerous woman in the NSW plot her revenge

-Toy With You-

The other law-abiding officials stepped out of the way as Senior Detective Tracey Thompson charged up the stairs of city police headquarters, storming in to one of the main offices with a loud and attention-seeking crash. All eyes turned to her; staring attentively.

The brunette stepped forward to approach the blonde detective with surfer hair. "Peter Baker?"

"Yes?" the man in question turned around to face her, frowning in slight confusion.

"Tracey Thompson, I'm a Private Investigator," she offered the male detective her hand and lied about her status coolly. Peter looked around in a buoyant daze as his colleagues watched on in intrigue. "Can I have a word?"

"Uh, yeah," he let go off her hand and smiled gingerly, swallowing nervously when her hardened face didn't even crack a reaction in response. He knew she meant business. "What about?"

"Have you got anywhere more private we could go?"

Peter blinked, he didn't understand what could've been so important for her to intrude like that. Everyone in the room were busy carrying out their respective assignments before the crystalline green-eyed woman disturbed the atmosphere. "Why, what's this about?"

"Please, this is a very serious police matter." she clarified bluntly when Peter failed to understand. "It's about Zoe McCallister."

Well, that worked. Peter's heart knocked hard against his ribs as he suddenly came over all flustered, blinking to somewhat rationalize what he had heard; even without any specific details. He swallowed hard and motioned towards the door she had power-walked through only a matter of seconds ago. "Sure, out here."

The other detectives, sergeants and senior constables watched on with interested as Tracey followed their colleague out the door, looking at them roughly with her arms crossed behind her back. A file clutched in her left hand.

Closing the door on behind him, Peter folded his arms across his chest and looked at the brunette standing a few meters away from him cautiously, building up an unfazed façade. "So, what about her?"

"Okay, you might want to brace yourself for this." Tracey's tone coming across a little less earnest. Detective Baker looked at her with browed expectancy. "She's still alive."

To say that he was shocked would be an understatement. Peter was taken aback, almost fainting in response to the mysterious woman's revelation. "What?!"

Tracey drew her words out slowly, maybe he was having trouble understanding the English language. "She's not dead."

"Are you sure?" Peter's words coming out rushed and stammered. "I mean, how do you know?"

"I saw her last week with my own eyes." Tracey smiled ruefully. "And believe me, she certainly ain't dead."

"Last week?" Peter picked up on those words and instantly transformed in to the edgy guy he had a bad reputation of becoming; fighting back the uncontrollable urge to snap. "Why are you only telling me now?"

The alleged PI narrowed her eyes flippantly, not very appreciative of his bitter tone. "I've been doing some digging, looking for anything I can find from the time of the explosion, and came across this-" she handed him the ominous file she had on her since she arrived on scene.

"What is it?" Peter took the document and flipped the cover open, skimming through it in the quiet corridor. Smiling back at him was a blonde girl he had never seen before.

"Missing persons report for a 21-year-old woman named Laura McPherson." Tracey informed sharply, rousing Peter's intrigue further. "She disappeared on May 2nd." that caught his attention, he shot his head up in response. "Check out her details, I think you'll find they're an exact match to Zoe's."

Piercingly resuming focus on the missing girl's mugshot, the blonde-haired detective looked up after a few brief seconds to have that face etched in his mind, wide-eyed and intense. "You're saying she stole her identity?"

"No," Tracey illustrated the situation more clearly. "More like she was the body that was recovered at the factory that day." She interjected before Peter could get a word in; he was obviously about to rationalize the whole thing, not wanting to open up old wounds. "And I know what you're going to do, and don't." the apparent private investigator squinted challengingly. "You know just as well as I do that you didn't officially identify her -you couldn't- you just assumed it was her. Just like she assumed the real Zoe McCallister's identity."

He folded his arms across his chest and pouted dismissively. "I don't..." he swallowed nervously when he was met with that cold stare, and sighed in resignation. She was right - he couldn't hide it forever. "Are you sure it was her?"

"Absolutely," Peter grimaced when she replied with dead certainty. "Without a shadow of doubt." Tracey flipped her hair as she went into storytelling mode. "I approached her when I was questioning a suspect who was injured during a stakeout. She panicked and fled before I could talk to her properly."

Rubbing his face submissively, Peter leant back in capitulation; the wall catching his fall. "So, what do we do now?"

"I know you'll probably be against it, but I don't think we should present what we know to the others." Tracey quickly clarified when she was met by an unimpressed look. "At least not yet."

"Why not?" Peter fought back the urge to snap. "Tracey, there's a serial killer on the loose!" Obviously not trying hard enough. He quickly lowered the pitch to his voice when it came to his attention that people were staring through the door's window.

"I know, I know." Senior Detective Thompson pinched the bridge of her nose and feigned to be affected by the dilemma. "But think about it; right now she's vulnerable, she's taking risks -I mean, she has to be to have the guts to work at a public medical centre- this way we can catch her when she makes another mistake: then we'll have her."

"I don't know..."

Tracey bit the inside of her bottom lip restlessly. "Peter, if you tell the others what you know, you'll not only miss your chance to finally catch her, you'll also lose her for good." As much as he tried to deny it, what she was saying made sense. "If the media found out about her survival, she'd go in hiding in definite, then we'll never get her. We can't let that happen."

"Okay," Peter crinkled his nose and looked up at her with tired eyes. "You're right. But I'm not liking this one bit."

"Neither am I." Tracey sighed ruefully, a dry smile playing across her lips. "Anyway, as you're well aware, I'm a very busy girl." she pushed off from the wall she leant against with her foot. "I'll get back to you if I hear anything else."

Peter looked at her with a mixture of concern and disappointment. "How can I contact you, I mean, if I find anything?"

Tracey chuckled humorlessly and whipped out a small rectangular token. "Here's my card. Call me if you need anything." she smiled lightly as their fingers made brief contact as the calling card was passed between the two detectives. "Goodbye, Peter."

He watched as she turned around, walking off down the corridor and looking back as she turned a corner; that smile still firm on her lips. Peter flipped the card between his index and middle fingers as he read its contents. It was pretty bland in comparison to other calling cards he received from any of the other private investigators he worked with:

Tracey Thompson, P.I.

0901 86775 1000

Bouncing down the stairs of the HQ Field Office, Tracey whipped out her mobile phone and began dialing a number, smiling to the man who held the main entrance door open for her. She dropped down each step that lead to the streets cautiously as she held the communicating plastic to her ear, flipping her hair and walking through passing pedestrians.

"So, did the sucker take the bait?" a woman's voice asked on the other end of the phone line.

Tracey's smirk could be heard from the other end as she liberated her car keys from the pocket of her dark pantsuit, staring mischievously to the car parked on the curb just a few meters ahead. "Hook, line and sinker."

"Fantastic!" the other woman exclaimed, making Tracey chuckle as she slotted the keys into the lock and opening her dark Mercedes. "Oh, Trace, we have got to celebrate. I'm officially alive again."

Ducking into her ride and slamming the car door shut behind her, Tracey grinned from ear-to-ear as she closed her flip-up mobile and tossed it aside, landing in the driver's seat. She looked at the brunette woman sat in one of the vacant backseats through the rearview mirror and winked. "Not quite, but I'm all for celebrating."

A disguised Zoe giggled playfully and leant across the front seats, planting a kiss on her corrupt girlfriend's cheek -making her glow- before whispering the sweetest of nothings in her ear. "Then what are you waiting for? Let's go."

The dark purple vehicle's ignition revved up, sending a cloud of smoke and fumes to throttle out of the red hot exhaust pipe; polluting the once fresh air. Red taillights glowed as Tracey floored the accelerator.

She and Zoe had a lot of work to do.

1/3

[Oxidizer]

-A Sweeter Payback-

Inside a small, rent-controlled apartment situated in the city's more poorer side, registered under the false alias of Laura McCallister, Zoe sat with her legs crossed in the middle of the lounge's floor; files and photographs scattered around her. She held her head in her hands and sighed exasperatedly. "Trace?" her gaze burning into a surveillance photograph of Peter Baker she took late 2005 when she had to return to Summer Bay to deal with a pesky nurse that knew too much - she stumbled across some files and inevitably had to be dealt with.

"Hmm?" Tracey replied distractedly, her crystalline green eyes frowned as she opened up a window on her laptop, positioned on Zoe's dining table, and checked her e-mails. You have no new messages.

"Come over here," Zoe demanded coyly, trying the seductive tactic to wholly rouse her girlfriend's attention. "I need your help with something."

Tracey grumbled lightly - she seemed annoyed or distant with Zoe, but wasn't. She was concentrating on typing up a quick message to a certain detective. The fact that he hadn't replied sooner to her previous e-mail bothered her. She didn't give a damn if he felt like he was earned a break or whatever, just because he stole files on the townspeople of Summer Bay, and sent copies to her for 'research purposes'. He just assumed she wanted them to pick out which resident could be a potential target for if Zoe ever returned. If only he knew. "Just a sec."

Zoe rolled her eyes flippantly, smacking her hands down her thighs and pushing herself off from the floor to walk over to the table. "What are you doing that's so important you'd put before me?"

"Sending Peter an e-mail." Tracey smirked, raising an eyebrow and looking at her ingenious girlfriend from the corner of her eye; preparing for an attack.

"Tracey!" Zoe feigned outrage and shuffled a little closer, now stood at her side so when Tracey looked up from playing Peter like a fool, she'd see the jaw of her equally unsound lover's jaw rusted open like a malfunctioned machine.

"Relax," Tracey chuckled lightly. "It's f*cking miniscule."

The blonde sociopath slammed her hands on the desk playfully, biting the curves of her bottom lip to prevent from giggling; unable to appear mad at Tracey -not ever- even if she was pretending. "So send it already!"

Tracey leant back in the chair and frowned at the screen. She wasn't sure whether to really lay it on or figure a short and menacing little cyber note would do the trick. Figuring that Peter would just ignore a rant-like message, the corrupt detective settled with the former.

From: T.T

To: PBaker

I want action. Soon.

SEND.

Her hands remained on the mouse; the little arrow icon hovered over the send button. She frowned thoughtfully before deadpanning and with one click the e-mail was out.

Message sent.

"Done," Tracey sighed effortlessly, turning around and looking up in Zoe's browed direction. "What did you need?"

Zoe looked at the screen - the window still open. She didn't read the e-mail's contents but she knew it was gone, and trusted Tracey to type something that'll get her point across and riffle Peter's feathers. "If only dear, Detective Baker knew he was an unwitting accomplice to a multiple murderer's retribution. I can't think of anything more sweeter to savor." Tracey watched on with a raised eyebrow when her partner in crime and pleasure chuckled maniacally to herself. Zoe clocked on and in a second her mood changed; chuckles stifled and serious face worn, she swallowed tenaciously and replied to her girlfriend's question. "I thought of the perfect way to freak Sally out and, if all goes accordingly, push Peter that much further over the edge too."

"But..." Tracey looked at her solemnly.

Zoe concluded with movements of her hands to punctuate her words. "But there's no way I can follow through without getting traces of my DNA at the Caravan Park."

"Why?" the brunette closed the window and roused from her seat, setting the chair back in place by tucking it neatly under the table. She always was a perfectionist. "What are you intending on doing?"

"I wanted to trash Sally's home and plant a red light globe in the lounge's socket-" Zoe replied sullenly, looking down at her shoes like a sulky little child, hoping it'd help give Tracey a brain boost. She knew she would anyway, but playing it on a little would make it that more efficient. "-With 'tick tock' inscribed across the brim."

Tracey frowned as she pulled on her chin thoughtfully, making Zoe smirk. She didn't know detectives really did that when they concocted their operations. "Ah, I see your predicament."

"Exactly," Zoe shook her head lightly, sending her mound of blonde curls to tumult and bounce, brushing against her shoulders that were exposed from her red tank top. "So, any suggestions?" she looked up at the brunette with that mischievous bite to her bottom lip.

"You know what?" Tracey smirked as she sat on the table, her eyes filled with deepest thought. "I may just have the trick."

Zoe's eyes widened in response. "Oh?"

"There's a guy I know, who we brought in for questioning regarding a series of burglaries," the corrupt detective reminisced and re-told her tale. "He and I have never met personally, so he'll be ideal." She got straight to the point when she glanced over at Zoe, realizing that she was losing her. "But the gist is, he's a lackey who'll follow orders, even anonymously." Tracey revealed the catch right at the end offbeatedly. "For the right price."

"He sounds just like what we're looking for!" Zoe exclaimed gleefully. "What's his name?"

"Benny Jones."

"Ah, how cute." the supposedly deceased Summer Bay stalker mused casually, quickly snapping out of her devious daze and looking at her favorite cop derisively; anticipating getting her plans well underway and freaking Sally out again. Oh, how she missed that one. "So, when are you going to contact him?"

Tracey looked at her watch and studied the time carefully. 7PM. Too late to quickly rush to HQ and get the required fields from the archives. "Not sure, I'll have to pull his details off the database first, so probably not until after tomorrow."

"I can be patient." Zoe shrugged lightly, before her eyes flickered up into a predatory smirk. "Just."

Tracey looked up from her watch and took a glance at the look the blonde sociopath shot her way, before doubling back and looking again; this time more focused. She raised an eyebrow playfully. "Oh, I know."

Zoe took small coy steps as she approached the non-law abiding official with her wrists crossed behind her back and her head to a slight tilt. "But not that patient." Suddenly her quiet demeanor erupted into zeal carnality. "Come 'ere!"

"My pleasure."

2/3

[Oxidizer]

-The Night Before-

She stood at the window; the only light entering the room was the murky yellow emanating from the streetlights, raking through the netted curtains. She wore nothing other than a plain skimpy tank top and shorts, touching the cold glass stained with streaks of rainwater, running down. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Tracey silently asleep in their bed; her arm draped over the empty space that she once lay. Zoe pictured all of her past victims -and the people that would mound to that list- like one of those toy projectors; a different face with each blink.

The rain began to fall down heavier, it must've been, otherwise how else would she have awoke? Tracey squinted through tired eyes, her vision blurred. "Zoe?" she called quietly, staring at the silhouette of her girlfriend outlined by that shimmering glow. She groped at the bedside cabinet and looked at the digital clock positioned on the side; the numbers illuminated by piercing red. "It's 4 in the morning."

"I know," Zoe replied weakly, turning around and letting her hand slide down the damp window. She felt safe looking outside, as the vacant streets continued to flood, knowing that she was warm and protected. "I couldn't sleep."

Tracey pulled the covers back, allowing the captured body heat to escape as she sat up. "Because of tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Nerves? Excitement?" Tracey questioned as she supported herself from collapsing back tiredly with the back of her hands, barely able to hold her head up to look at the blonde. The light that creeped inside shone on her face; making crystalline green eyes glisten.

Zoe smiled lightly as she remained in her positioned by the window, her fingers splashing in the evaporating rain that managed to sneak in, moistening the windowsill. "A little of both."

"If this is about Flat 7, I told you, the unit's leased under Maxine Trood." Tracey reassured her softly, knowing that was one of her girlfriend's worries the other night - she kept thinking that she registered the apartment vacancy under her real name. She made that mistake when she first moved to the city after the tyre factory explosion. Although it wasn't the cleverest of moves, she's glad she did: if it wasn't for that one slip-up, she'd never have met Tracey.

"It's not just that," Zoe sighed temperamentally, quickly shooting the brunette an apologetic look when she realized she was being too hard on the wrong person. "The last time I was there I almost burned to death, and believe me, that is something I don't want to experience again."

"That's why we're getting revenge-"

"-And to get closure for Sarah." Zoe interjected.

"That too." Tracey muttered jealously. "The point is, they're going to be the ones who burn this time round, not you."

Zoe sighed ruefully, a weak smile playing across her lips. "Promise?"

"I promise." Tracey shook her head lightly, accompanied by a semi-amused smile at the last minute insecurities her girlfriend suddenly underwent. She patted the bed and nodded in her direction. "Now will you come back to bed?"

"I thought we agreed to have a good night's sleep before returning to Summer Bay?" Zoe replied slyly.

"We did, that's what I meant." Tracey playfully rolled her eyes, propping up Zoe's pillows in preparation for her much-needed rest. "Sometimes you have such a gutter mind."

Zoe shuffled across the room and jumped on the bed with a bounce, folding her legs in and pulling the covers up to her chest. "Hey!" she feigned outrage, raising an eyebrow in response to her girlfriend's claims. "I only got these thoughts after I met you."

"Is that a compliment?" Tracey giggled lightly as she rested her head on her hand, looking over Zoe's shoulder to face her; she couldn't look more relaxed.

Zoe confirmed with a slow nod. "Go with it."

"I will," Tracey grinned bemusedly, kissing Zoe's shoulder and making her smile with bliss-filled eyes. "I guess we better get some sleep, we've got a big day ahead of us."

"Yeah, you're right." Zoe turned to face her equally insane lover.

Tracey smiled tiredly, sinking lower into the coziness of their double bed. Zoe closed her eyes. "Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight."

3/3

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