The 10

34

Welch walks up to Lillian's desk. She looks up at him and sighs as she points to Sherman's door.

"Thanks." Michael mumbles.
Pushing the door open, he eyes Sherman at his desk and a woman sitting at one of the chairs.
"Welch, how nice of you to show up." Sherman remarks. "This is Lieutenant Drake. I understand she gave you an order I was not aware of."
Michael swallows, sitting next to Drake, crossing his ankle over his knee. "I thought it was approved." Welch says to Drake.
"I'm his boss. Not the other way 'round. I don't need his approval for anything."
"This is my case, Drake!" Sherman shouts.
"I'm still your boss, Sherman. So watch your tone with me."
Sherman's jaw tightens. "I still believe I should've been told about this. I mean, seriously, a wire? What happens if Welch ends up becoming intimate with Rodriguez? What's he going to do then?"
"Cross that bridge when we get there." Drake responds. "Even if they kiss, I'll have the wire scratched, and we'll install cameras in his home. No harm, no foul."
Sherman nods slightly. "I suppose. Welch, I've heard you made some progress today?"
"Yep." Michael smirks. "She's already filling me in on Winters and Samuels. I mean, not that I'm complaining at all, but she's known me for like five minutes, and she's spilling her guts out to me."
"We'll take it however we can get it." Drake says as everyone in the room nods in agreement.
Sherman, Drake, and Welch spend the evening assembling Welch's next assignment.

    A few hours later, as Michael is exiting the station and heading to his car, he groans when he hears his phone ringing. Digging it from his pocket, he snickers when his screen tells him it's Isabella calling.
"Hey," he says, holding his phone to his ear.
"Hey, are you busy?"
"Nah, why?"
"I need to talk to you. And maybe your dad, too, if that's possible?"
"Well, I know you can definitely talk to me," he chuckles. "But I'm not sure about my old man."
"Okay, well, I'm on my way to your place, so see if he can meet us there. Thanks."
"Fuck!" Michael shouts as he tosses his phone to the floor.
    Michael pulls into his driveway, cursing to himself as he watches Isabella get out of her car and meet him at his door.
"So your dad is home then?" she nudges her chin towards the car.
"Yeah, about that," he chuckles nervously as he scratches the back of his neck. "Not really."
"I'm confused." she crosses her arms over her chest. "You have the car. The only car you said you have because your father uses it for work, and yet, here you are driving the car and telling me your father isn't here."
Michael laughs, looking towards the ground. "Yeah."
"So, where's your dad? Because, like, I really need his service right now."
Michael's head jolts up, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"
"You said he's a P.I.. I need him to investigate for me."
"Oh, right, sorry," he treads to the car and finds his phone. "Give me a minute. I'll call him. See if he's around."
Isabella huffs and sits on the stoop.
    Michael gets back in his car and curses at himself while the phone rings in his ear.
"Sherman." A cold voice shouts.
"It's Welch."
"What the fuck do you want? I just saw you."
"Rodriguez. She wants to meet my "father." Says she needs him to do some investigating for her."
"And?"
"And the persona Drake gave me includes that my father is a private fucking eye." Michael grinds his teeth together.
"Fuck," Sherman groans. "Okay, I'll send someone."
"Someone that Winters' girl hasn't seen." Michael rolls his eyes. "Unless you can't handle that simple task."
"Fuck off, Welch. I'll have someone there soon."
"Someone who can actually pass as someone's dad." Click.
"Well, he'll be here soon."
"Good." Isabella mutters.
    Half an hour later, Isabella and Michael's face light up from headlights glaring through the blinds hanging from the window. They watch as a man enters, dropping a briefcase and shedding a coat. Michael stands and rolls his eyes as he sees this ending in a spiral.
"Michael." The man says sternly.
"Hey, dad."
"Mr. Welch," Isabella stands, holding out her hand. "It's very nice to meet you. I'm Michael's friend Isabella."
"Nice to meet you, too." He looks up at Michael. "So why did you pull me from work?"
"Isabella needs your help."
Lowering his eyes down to Isabella. "And how can I do that?"
"There's someone I need you to look into for me."
"Okay, let's talk then." The man, Steven Lawrence, smirks. "So," he grabs a notepad from the briefcase. "Who am I looking into?"
"Frankie. Frankie Young." Isabella sighs deeply.