If only she had kept her mouth shut.

She should have known better. Cutter wouldn’t have said anything. The teddy bear had gone unnoticed for the better part of the day.

But the proximity to its proper owner made Celia anxious. Her hands began to shake as they walked the corridor toward apartment 603. She clasped her hands tight around the plush bear, trying to hold them steady, but they continued vibrating as if they had a mind of their own.

A glitch, she told herself.

Part of her hoped it really was a glitch. Something that could be examined and serviced. But even that frightened her. She didn’t like thinking of herself as glitched. Or broken. Or damaged.

They were dirty words.

She cradled the teddy bear to her chest with crossed arms and ran a hand through plush fur. Soft, aside from being charred, but nothing special from what she could tell. An average everyday ordinary teddy bear.

It dawned on her that she had no inkling why she took the teddy bear in the first place. What was it about this bear that compelled her to slip it out from under Billy’s nose without him noticing?

It was wrong to take other people’s things. But she had done so just the same.

Cutter always took things from evidence, she told herself.

Borrowed he liked to say.

And on their most recent visit to the evidence locker, Cutter provided insight into his philosophy behind reappropriating items that didn’t belong to him. She understood his logic. Some of it made perfect sense. But she was not so naive as to see his rationalizations as anything other than the excuses for bad behavior they were.

She grimaced, squeezing the teddy bear tight. Unfortunately, using Cutter’s behavior to justify her own was an equally poor excuse. But it fit so well that it was hard not to use.

Still—there was something about the teddy bear that nagged at her. About taking it. Reasons she didn’t fully understand. But now, having to face up to her infraction, she questioned why she would even do something like that in the first place.

Something Billy said stuck with her.

When he felt sad or down, the teddy bear was there to cheer him up.

She had not found that to be the case.

The teddy bear hadn’t done much of anything. It caught on fire, briefly. But that was about it.

Perhaps, she didn’t want to give it back in the hopes that if she kept it long enough, Billy’s promise might actually come true.

But she had her doubts about that as well.

She looked at the teddy bear. At its singed fur. Flaking burnt crust raked its fibers, matting them together. At its eye dangling by a single black thread. Before, the teddy bear had been pristine. Perfect even. Now, it reminded her of herself. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought of Valerie as well.

Though she did not like thinking of herself as broken or damaged, and the bear was a stark reminder, she felt more closely connected to it than ever.

She did not want to return it.

Whatever her reasons for wanting to keep it, one thing was clear; Cutter was going to make sure she returned it.

A series of firm knocks against the door to apartment 603 drew her attention. Cutter stood in his normal casual posture, slightly stooped, looking askew, as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

Unlike the response at the Von Medveys, the door was answered promptly without inquiry to identify who was outside. The attacks on Valerie had not dissuaded their neighbors from answering their door in a casual and friendly manner. She guessed it was one of the luxuries of living in a gated and guarded community. Those inside possessed an expectation of safety.

Celia recognized the woman immediately, though her wardrobe was entirely different.

Sally Dreyfus had her hair wrapped in a towel, pale blue eyes shimmering from a recent shower. Or bath. She could have taken a bath too. That possibility was more likely, thought Celia. Sally looked like a bath person.

“Oh Detective,” said Sally. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Cutter. “How can I help you this evening?”

With over a hundred door service inquiries under her belt, Celia had never once seen anyone respond to Cutter in such a manner. Usually, the response was a grunt, or an expletive, or on semi-infrequent occasion a punch to the face.

From her attire and her fresh-faced lack of makeup, Sally obviously had not been expecting company, but their presence at her door did not seem to bother her either.

“Don’t mind the towel and what not,” she said, gesturing to her appearance. “I’m just getting ready for the evening.”

“You have plans?” asked Cutter. His manner was his normal blunt-style, but Sally did not seem put off by it. Instead, she blushed.

Celia raised a brow.

From her experience, people blushing usually indicated stress. A rise in blood pressure in the capillaries of the cheeks. It wasn’t uncommon for those they questioned to become flustered, agitated even.

But what did Sally Dreyfus have to be stressed about?

Though it was an uncommon sight in their line of work, Celia knew that blushing was also an indicator of another human trait.

Arousal.

Was she…?

Celia tilted her head, followed Sally’s doe-eyed gaze, and landed upon Cutter.

With Jack?

“No,” said Sally, playfully flustered. Her pink cheeks morphed to cherry. “Nothing out of the ordinary. A night with streaming video. Same old. Same old.”

She opened the door wider showing off the living room. The vidscreen. The couch. The coffee table. A glass of wine. A tub of popcorn. She raised an arm high, placing it on the doorframe, leaning slightly into it. A subtle invitation.

“How can I be of service?”

Her curiosity immediately waned. Thoughts darted to the bear. To admitting she had taken it. To having to give it back having gotten nothing out of it.

To her surprise, Cutter didn’t lead with the teddy bear.

“Nice place,” said Cutter.

The interior was a similar sort of high class, high cost luxury condo as the Von Medvey version. However, unlike the Von Medvey stark modern sleekness, the hard angles, the metal and glass, this Sally’s abode possessed a warm homey feel. Rosewood trim wrapped around everything. The cabinets and bookcases were crafted out of a reddish hue of wood, possibly cedar, but Celia suspected something a touch more extravagant.

“Your husband worked for S&O, didn’t he?” asked Cutter.

Sally covered her mouth, stifling laughter. “A lot of people make that assumption. No. I worked for S&O. Not my husband.”

“Didn’t mean to assume.”

“It’s fine. People always think that. I was the bread and butter so to speak.”

“I must have misheard.” Cutter shrugged, followed by a self-deprecating chuckle. He nodded in Celia’s direction. “You know synths, they always get it right. Me, not so much. Happens more than I care to admit.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s other things you’re good at, Detective.”

Sally leaned into Cutter as he spoke. Kept solid eye contact. The hint of a smile constantly tugged at the corners of her mouth. A gentle lilt lifted her voice from the formal training that was present with every word to something more playful. More fun.

“What did you do at S&O?” asked Cutter.

“My, aren’t we the forward one?”

In their previous dealings, such a response would be hostile, fired off at Cutter as defense. But this wasn’t the case for Sally. She did not seem put off by the inquiry. No, just the opposite. She seemed rather turned on by the interaction.

“Why the sudden interest in me, if I may be so bold as to inquire?”

“Just part of the investigation.”

“Oh. Is that it?”

“I’m sure you saw the news tonight.”

It took her a minute to process. Celia watched Sally change gears. Watched her lean back, fold her arms across her chest, and a concerned expression appear. “You mean the bombing at S&O?”

Cutter nodded.

“I assumed you were following up about the attack on Valerie. You think there is a link between the attack on Valerie and S&O?”

“What did you do for S&O?” said Cutter, blowing past her question.

“Research and Development. I was head of their advanced AI department.”

“Great gig, I’d imagine. Nice title. Generously compensated, I’m sure. Why would anyone leave?”

“I didn’t. S&O shuttered the division.”

“Is that normal?”

“I really wouldn’t know. I wasn’t on the business side of things. I always thought there was a bit of permanence to everything. S&O is a giant corporation—a profit machine. I assumed my job was secure. But, these days, what is?”

Warmth rose in her cheeks. She uncrossed her arms and leaned into Cutter once again.

“I could have answered these questions over the phone, Detective.” A devious smirk curled. “Is there perhaps another reason you wanted to visit? Is this about duty, or is this visit of a more personal nature?”

“Personal,” said Cutter.

“Oh?” Though it was subtle, Celia picked up on it. Sally’s mouth was a firm line, but her eyes glimmered betraying her smile. She leaned down toward Celia. “Celia was it?”

Celia nodded.

“Billy is in his bedroom. I’m sure he’d be delighted to have a friend to play with. How does that sound? Would you like to play with Billy?”

Cutter interjected, “Celia has something she wants to tell you.”

“Oh she does, does she?” Sally bent, placing her hand on her knee, lowering herself to Celia’s level. “And what would that be, sweetheart?”

Celia thought it over a minute and said, “I have nothing I want to tell her.”

“Celia…” said Cutter in a stern tone.

Celia shook her head. “I do not want to.”

“It’s not an option, kiddo. Show it to her.”

“Show what to me?” Sally slowly stood upright. She drew her arms to her chest. Casual, but a subconsciously defensive move. Arms up, ready to deflect an assault.

Celia stared at the ground. At her feet. She swayed back and forth mimicking the motion of the thoughts in her head, debating whether or not she was going to tell Mrs. Sally Dreyfus what she had done.

“I am sorry,” said Celia.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?”

She held up the teddy bear. “I am sorry I took it.”

She looked up long enough to see the glare fixed on Sally’s face. Her brows cinched down over her nose.

“You…you stole my child’s toy?”

Celia nodded and returned her gaze to her feet. Her arm was still extended holding the bear out to Sally. She felt it leave her grasp.

“What happened to it?” Sally turned the teddy bear over in her hands, inspecting it.

The bear was singed. Half its face melted. Button eye hanging by a thread.

“What kind of abuse have you been putting it through? It looks like it’s been to Hell and back.”

“We did mention the firebombing at S&O earlier today,” said Cutter.

Celia perked, as if the explanation might soften Sally. “It was with me the whole time.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” said Sally, shaking her head in disbelief. “I definitely wasn’t expecting this.”

“That’s her! That’s her!” Shrill glass shattering screams assaulted Celia’s eardrums. Through tears, he screamed, “I told you I didn’t lose, Teddy! She took him!”

Apparently, Billy had enough of his alone time in his room, and had wandered out into the living room only to catch a glimpse of his teddy bear.

“Excuse me just a moment, will you?”

Sally left, closing the door behind her. From the hall, they heard faint murmurs, an exchange between mother and a sobbing son, until the sobs quieted, followed by the sound of a door shutting, and the front door once again opening.

“Sorry,” said Sally. Billy told me about the missing bear earlier, but I assumed he misplaced it. You know kids. They can’t keep track of anything that isn’t stapled to their bodies.”

She lowered her gaze at Celia, this time not bothering to stoop down to her level.

“I appreciate you returning Teddy, Celia. That must have been a difficult thing to do.”

Celia lifted her gaze from the floor. “It was.”

Cutter placed a hand on Celia’s shoulder. “Well, now that that’s all taken care of, we’ll be on our way.”

“You know, I’ll have to file a report.”

“Wait, what?” said Cutter. “She returned it.”

“After she stole it. One good deed does not erase a bad one. There must be consequences. Accountability is important. I’m sure you’re aware this is grounds for a suit against the police department.”

“Over a teddy bear? Celia did the right thing. And you’re going to punish her for coming clean when you didn’t even realize it was missing in the first place?”

“It’s the principle, Detective. She is an officer of the law. And a child at that. We can’t be teaching her that it is okay to go around committing crimes, no matter how trivial they may seem to you.”

“You gotta be kidding me, lady.”

“I am not kidding you, Detective. I don’t find this the slightest bit amusing or humorous. I take this kind of thing very seriously.”

“Obviously.” Cutter reached for Celia’s hand. “C’mon kiddo, we’re leaving.”

He turned to leave, but Celia remained in place.

No.

She was not going anywhere.

She had done what was right—what was difficult. Something she not only thought was a bad idea, but had not wanted to do in the first place. What was the point of turning herself in, admitting wrongdoing, if the punishment was going to be the same as doing nothing at all?

And possibly worse, considering that Sally hadn’t noticed it missing. Again, if only she had kept her mouth shut, this would have blown over, the teddy bear would still be in her possession, and no one would be in trouble.

Doing nothing, doing the wrong thing, presented the best probable outcomes.

But deep down, Celia knew there was right and wrong, its letter and its spirit.

It was why she liked the law. It was why she wanted to become an officer, to uphold the ideals of what was intrinsically right.

Though she was prone to processing everything literally, she had enough interactions with humanity to see the greys. Despite setting hard and fast rules for themselves, humanity loved to live in the greys. But apparently, Sally was a stickler for the black and white.

She felt Cutter tugging on her hand, urging her to come with him. To leave.

But Celia wasn’t having it.

She remained firmly planted in the doorway, unmoving.

“You want to teach her a lesson?” said Cutter. “What kind of message are you sending if you punish her for doing the right thing?”

Sally held the teddy bear out. “You can’t honestly say you think there should be no reprecussions, Detective. I mean, look at what you two have done to it. She held the teddy bear at arm’s length for Cutter and Celia to get a close-up look.

Sally wasn’t wrong. The teddy bear was a sad looking thing, especially compared to what it had looked like when Celia first took it. It had been practically brand new, a bright sheen reflecting off its fur. But now, now it was something that wasn’t viable for charity. An object of affection that could never be transferred, but only discarded.

“You know what?” Cutter yanked the teddy bear from her grasp. “Fuck it.”

“What are you doing? You can’t take that!”

But Cutter did. And had.

“I can’t do a lot of things,” said Cutter. His back was to her, as he walked down the hall toward the elevator bay. “That’s not one of them.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” she yelled at Cutter’s backside. “I’m calling the cops!”

“Be my guest. Celia, you coming or not?”

Sally’s cheeks turned red. This time, Celia was certain it was from stress and not something else.

“Be right there, Jack,” she said, skipping after him.