Yellow Pages 
The search for the elusive Katya hadn't gone well. Morgan spent an hour narrowing her search field with various Katyas of every imaginable spelling. Wildcards such as and Cat* and Kat* only widened the potential pool. The various criminal databases available to law enforcement revealed next to nothing. Given Cris' checkered past, Morgan expected a record, but apparently this one was clean or avoided arrest.

Festering annoyance clouded her thoughts; if only fucking Zachary got a last name… or social. She clicked through another dozen mugshots when her phone chimed. The sound almost went unnoticed, but then she turned to stare at the iPhone on the desk beside her. Where was Cris' phone?

Morgan found the phone in an opened evidence bag folded in Squall's desk drawer. She set the phone to charge and got some coffee. Flicking through the contacts… it wouldn't be this easy, would it? She passed a Cass and felt a twinge of guilt at rifling through her deceased friend's phone, but found no Cats. Then onto the K's and she smirked.

She almost called from Cris' phone, but thought better of the blast from the past. No doubt Katya would pick up, but it would set their conversation on the wrong foot. She wasn't here to sucker or deceive the woman… Morgan needed her help. Reaching to the desk phone, she tapped out the digits and let it ring. Already she was running through her script.

Incoming call from 720-555-8370


A random (but not blocked) number was probably work stuff. Client stuff. Katya wasn't that popular that she had randoms hitting up her phone, so with that in mind.

Hi, this is Katya!

It rang a few times before she finally picked up, voice exaggeratedly sing-song.

The voice on the other end of the phone was so chirpy it made Morgan pause, realizing she was about to either drop some painful news or dredge raw emotion back to the surface. This was the policing that Morgan disliked most; it required a tender touch she only managed with effort. Pushing forward, she drew in a breath and introduced herself.

Hi, Katya. My Name's Cassidy and I'm with the Mountainside Police Department. I was hoping you'd have some time to help me with an investigation. Is this a good time to talk?


She almost blurted NO I'M NOT A WEREWOLF but the person on the other side thankfully talked for long enough for her to process her thoughts. Cassidy or Cass or whatever was a name which was vaguely familiar, but a cop was calling her so that definitely passed in one ear and out the other.


She drew out nervously and followed through with a very audible gulp, trying to even her breathing.

Um. Sure!

Itchy spine itchy spine itchy spine.

The tension Morgan heard in the other woman's voice across the line made her pause. Granted this was essentially a cold call and some level of anxiety was expected, but was there more here? Morgan smiled thinly and allowed Katya a moment. She used that moment to eke out a feel for the other woman, but she had scant to go on in those handful of words.

Thanks so much. So I'm looking into the death of Cristina Yahn. We're trying to find her friends, those that knew her… her family. It would help if you could start by explaining your relationship with her.


She guessed murder investigations could span a decade, but the fact that that’s what was happening right now shook her. So, silence, as Katya grabbed the edge of her work table and took a seat.

Anxiety changed course to the kind which made her a little sick, but calm as her heart seemed to drop from her throat to... whatever the lowest place was.

We were best friends. I- she’s... she was my best friend

Was this really a cop... ? Wouldn’t Dakila have... ?

Not wanting to rush the other woman or cajole an answer, Morgan let the silence pass following her question. She got this was difficult, more so after Katya admitted they were best friends. But that was good, the admission offered privileged information. Maybe this was the break she needed?

Good, that's good. When did you see her last and can you elaborate on her mood? Did she seem worried or upset? Anything out of the ordinary?


Who said that was good. What the fuck. Weren’t police people more tactful.


Katya paused, developing a deep frown before she spoke up again.

Sorry but just. This isn’t something I’m comfortable talking about over the phone


Morgan heard the slight change in tone and frowned as well, but the request was understandable.

That's no problem. If you would you like come down the station we can talk in person.


Um. Ok. So not that Cassidy from Mountainside Police Department was meant to know she was a Werewolf, but like, no thanks, she wanted to go to a police station even less.

Sorry - not to be a problem but I don’t really want to do that either. You’re welcome to come to my address though and we can talk


The frown remained. While it was definitely more convenient to have Katya come to her, she'd travel for this information

Not a problem either. What's your address?

She searched Squall's desk for a pen and paper, finding his notebook in the drawer. Morgan flicked through his notes to a clean page.

She was like, 100% certain if she’d found her phone number she could just as easily whip out her address. But also, like, that would definitely be weird. Appearing without Katya providing the info.



Flashbacks to being kidnapped by Kroc, she stifled a shudder.

29 Station Street. Uh, fourth floor, apartment eleven... oh. I’m in Cedar Creek. I don’t know where you’re calling from, so


With the information Morgan now had on Katya, she could have found her address without much difficulty. But it was better to ask even if other methods were available. There was the chance her answer would gleam more insightful details. She jotted the address into the notepad. Next they found a day and time for their meet. They were set now, and Morgan leant back in Squall's chair, her anticipation high. Hopefully this was the break they needed.

After the phone call, continuing on with her day like everything was normal was not going to happen. So. Katya went on a walk to the river. It was weird how someone could be dead but simultaneously feel so very present in her life. More present than people who were alive.

She hoped Cris knew that she would, eventually, have to move forward, but she'd never move on.

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