"What do you mean Nicole has a book?" Allie asked.

She was sitting up now, staring at Tony.

"When I met with Raymond, he talked about, uh...about how he and Nicole loved coffee, and that they would often go to various coffee places around the city, get coffee and take reviews of them for their own amusement. She had these little black notebooks that she kept her coffee ratings in. You say the agents say they didn't find anything damning enough, it's because the information they're looking for doesn't look like information. After that meeting I got to thinking..."

Tony stood up and started pacing slowly, one hand on his hip, the other on his face.

"...what if she kept all of it, every last pertinent detail in one of these books," Tony continued, "and that's why they didn't find it. I know they took all her stuff, right, but they obviously didn't take those. You open one, see what it is, open another, see what it is, you think 'oh, that's all these little books are, nothing of value here', but that's where the value is, hidden in plain sight. The likelihood of that information still being in her apartment...it's so high. Just sitting on a shelf."

Allie stood up slowly from the couch, staring at Tony, who was staring back at her as she started to breath heavily.

"And if I'm right," he added, "and she does have it in one of those, and they just...ignored it...that's it. That's the end. That's the smoking gun they want and need, and we will be in the clear. You need to get into that penthouse and look for that book, Allie."

Allie nodded. He was right. If the agents had simply...overlooked it, somehow, then everything they needed that would cinch it all together neatly was just sitting somewhere in plain view, staring them in the face. And Allie knew exactly who she needed to call for help.

                                                       ***

Rachel St. Sebastian gasped, leglocking Claire's head and pulling her in closer between her thighs. Rachel reached back and grabbed the headboard as her stomach muscles clenched and she screamed, making Claire blush as she kept on licking. Rachel St. Sebastian hated herself. This control Claire had over her, to both disgust and arouse her. It felt like she was so at odds within herself at all times, and it made the sex - something that should be enjoyable - feel tainted. Afterwards, when Rachel had lit a cigarette and was sitting off the side of the bed as Claire showered in the bedrooms attached bathroom with the door open, she couldn't take her eyes off her silhouette...but not for the reasons one might assume.

Oh, sure, Claire had a phenomenal body, and Rachel loved admiring it in any variety of ways, but no. Her mind was set on something different. Here she was, indifferent to her presence, her mind occupied on something else. How easy it would be, Rachel thought as she looked towards a nearby belt draped over a chair, to just...come up from behind and end it all. Strangle her until the light left her eyes. Give her a taste of her own medicine. The freedom she would receive was exhilarating. But she couldn't...she couldn't. She loved her too deeply. Rachel took another drag and thought about the work day ahead of her tomorrow. Multiple showings, funerals, reconstructions and bodies to work on. She exhaled, watching the smoke billowing in front of her face as Claire exited the bathroom, having dried herself off and now in search of clothes.

"I'm too up to sleep," Claire said, "do you want to go get some food?"

"I don't...I don't know that I'm hungry," Rachel said.

"You really expect me to believe that didn't build up an appetite?" Claire asked, glancing over her shoulder, grinning and winking as she dug into a dresser drawer for clothes, making Rachel chuckle. Claire pulled a button down shirt on and popped the collar, then began to button up, adding, "come on pet, it's my treat."

Rachel St. Sebastian grimaced at that nickname once again. Pet. Even if said affectionately, it made her feel ill. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, Claire's cell rang, and she answered.

"Hello?" she asked, before grinning wide, "Meers, what can I do for you?"

"How do you feel about committing a crime?" Allie asked, and Claire laughed.

"You don't gotta ask twice," she said.

Claire finished getting dressed, kiss Rachel goodbye and said she'd be back later. Claire having left now, Rachel St, Sebastian found herself fully alone, and, post orgasm, her mind was unfogged now. She looked back at the belt and she bit her lip. Pet. She shuttered again. She thought back to her last therapy appointment, talking about the threefold rule. If anyone deserved to be hit by that level of karma, it was Claire. Rachel couldn't be here any longer. She needed to do something to take her mind off things, off Claire, so she got up, got dressed and headed to work. Standing in the room, over a body cut open on the metal slab, digging around in someones insides, it was all Rachel could do to not lose her mind. Staring down at this cadaver, she just imagined it was Claire. She knew that, regardless of anything else, eventually time catches up to us all, and that was the one bit of comfort it brought Rachel St. Sebastian, was that, at some point, Claire would be the one on the table.

                                                         ***

The elevator was taking its sweet time to reach the bottom floor, and the silence that surrounded Claire and Allie was stifling to say the least. Standing in the lobby of what was once Nicole's high rise condo - Allie, hands stuffed in her coat pockets, chewing her lip; Claire smoking a cigarette despite the very clear 'no smoking signs' plastered to the nearby wall and tapping her foot - neither woman really wanted to speak. It was just nice not to be alone for something of this nature. Claire ashed her cigarette and spread it around on the tile floor with her shoe.

"So," she said, still looking ahead at the elevator, "there's a book?"

"That is what I've been told," Allie said, "but who knows if we'll actually find it."

"And this little book definitively ties Raymond to the crimes, exonerating Tony and ultimately giving you your freedom?" Claire asked and Allie shrugged, grimacing.

"I still killed a man, regardless of anything else," Allie said, "I think I should have to pay for that."

"Should you?" Claire asked, "I killed many people. I paid for it, for a while anyway, but incarceration is hardly the most effective form of punishment. Actual punishment can only come from the person who committed the acts they're being incarcerated for. My guilt, my shame, my regret...those are the things that leave me a different person, not being in a cell. The problem with incarceration is that, eventually, in most cases, you leave prison. But if you're your own prison, there's no escaping that. You have to live with that forever."

Allie nodded solemnly. She understood what Claire meant, and it scared her. The elevator reached the lobby and dinged, the doors sliding open, as the women walked inside. As they headed to the floor of Nicole's flat, Allie couldn't help but think about the possible outcome if they actually managed to find this book. Potential freedom. An end from a seemingly neverending nightmare. It was all so within reach now. The elevator stopped, and that's when she realized Claire had stopped it herself.

"What are you doing?" Allie asked.

"If we find this," Claire said, stubbing her cigarette out on her tongue and putting it into her shirt pocket, "I need you to promise me that you aren't leaving the city without me. You need assurance? Well so do I. We leave together, that's the deal. After that, if you wanna go your separate way, I won't stop you. I think we could do amazing things together, but I'm not going to force you into anything, outside of this I suppose. I just..."

Claire took a slow, deep breath and looked at the floor, and for the first time maybe ever since they'd met, Allie saw a brief glimpse of a human being beneath the facade that Claire always wore.

"...I need to know at least one person has my back," Claire said.

"What about Rachel? You don't trust her?" Allie asked.

"I do, and I love her deeply, but she won't come with me," Claire said, "she has her whole business here, and I wouldn't wanna uproot that. But you and me, we can get out, we can go somewhere new, start fresh. Is it a deal, Meers? If I help you find this book...that's it. We leave together."

Allie chewed on her lip and thought, anxiety coursing through her body. Finally, she nodded, knowing she had no choice. Claire smiled, reached out, and allowed the elevator to resume its ascension. The walk to Nicole's condo wasn't far down the hall, and because of the crime, it was still considered under police jurisdiction so it hadn't been cleaned - past moving her corpse of course - or rented out again. Claire pulled her lockpicking kit from her jacket pocket and got to work while Allie stood guard.

"Let me ask you a question," Allie said.

"Shoot," Claire said.

"You say you feel regret and shame and guilt, but...do you?" Allie asked, leaning against the wall and folding her arms, "or do you just feel those things about getting caught?"

Claire grinned and glanced up at her.

"You know me well," she said, "we're not that different, Meers."

"As you've said repeatedly."

"I just mean that you're more like me than you acknowledge, in your sense of self preservation," Claire said, "And I'm more like than you acknowledge, in my sense of abilities to get in and out of places like a magician."

And with that, the lock clicked, and the door swung slowly open, Claire grinning the whole time. Allie laughed and shook her head. Claire was a showman, that couldn't be denied. The women headed into the loft and shut the door behind them. Nicole's apartment was swanky, upscale, ritzy, whatever word one would want to use to describe the elite top class citizen in terms of financials, it was exactly that. And, as predicted, aside from some cleaning of blood and the stuff the agents took, it had been virtually untouched since she'd killed herself.

"Wonder why he still keeps this place," Allie mumbled.

"Maybe he's looking for it too," Claire said, shrugging, "or maybe he just comes here because he misses her. Monsters are still humans."

Allie looked at Claire as she walked past, and she felt a pang of grief in her heart for her. Was Claire a monster? It was arguable, Allie would say, but she wasn't wrong. Even the most monstrous of us have some semblance of humanity somewhere inside. She continued further in, heading into Nicole's bedroom while Claire checked the office. The bedroom was minimalist, clean, maximizing her space. A large built in wall shelf that housed a small library, a stylish dresser and a large flat screen TV hung on the wall opposite the bed with the silken sheets and the designer pillowcases. Allie bit her lip as she walked further in, Claire's words about Raymonds reasonings running through her head. Her own parents had barely ever reached out to her in the time she'd left, become famous, and had all her problems. Was Raymond, monster though he was, that capable of loving his own child more than Allie's seemingly normal parents? It made her sad. She stopped by another small shelf, upon which sat trinkets, a small jewelry box, more books and some framed photos. Allie smiled as she reached out and picked up one of the photos of Sunny and Nicole together at an amusement park, grinning like idiots in front of a ride, each holding a churro.

"I ain't finding shit," Claire said, breaking the silence and causing Allie to jump.

"Jesus, don't do that," Allie said, hand to her chest, breathing hard.

"Anything in here?" Claire asked.

"Nothing except mementos and ordinary life stuff," Allie said, her eyes fixated on Sunny; she felt her eyes sting with hot wet tears, as she added, "...I didn't mean to kill him. I didn't...I didn't think it would...oh fuck."

"Hey, Meers, hey come on," Claire said, walking up behind Allie, as Allie turned and walked to the bed, sitting down, Claire joining her. Claire cleared her throat and continued, "you were doing what you thought was right for the sake of someone elses safety. They can call you a murderer, but you're not. You didn't set out with the intent to hurt him. It wasn't premeditated by any means. Meers, I killed people. I killed a lot of people. Was it because I was off my meds? Yes. I wasn't myself. But I'd be lying if I also said I didn't enjoy it. Some people are just...wired to hurt others. To want to hurt others. You're not one of those people, Meers. We're alike, yeah, but...you're not me."

Allie had grappled with their similarities so long, denying them outright to herself, trying to rationalize it all away, but to hear Claire herself finally admit it, that despite their similarities she wasn't Claire, that made her heart feel lighter. Allie looked up from the photo at Claire, who smiled and reached out, pushing Allie's hair from her face and touching her cheek.

"I don't deserve freedom," Allie said, "I did a bad thing, and I did more bad things in order to cover it up, and I need to pay for it all. It's the only way forward."

"We're our harshest critics, give ourselves the cruelest judgements. You can't say what you deserve because you're biased, but you deserve freedom, Meers. For all that you've done, all that you've been through...you deserve to be free. Leave Vegas with me. And I'm asking from an admittedly somewhat self serving place, because I...I know that I'll never meet anyone who understands me the way you do. I don't want to lose that."

Allie smiled weakly, tears rolling down her face. She nodded, and leaned in, hugging Claire.

"That's a lot of books," Claire said, making Allie chuckle.

"I know," she replied, wiping her face on her jacket sleeve, "I know, I like to read but hell, this woman really enjoyed it."

"No no, not the book books, those books," Claire said, pointing at the large built in wall shelf. Allie pulled back and turned, looking at the very top and her eyes widened. There they were. Little black books, all lined up in a row, what looked like hundreds of them. Allie scrambled to get off the bed and jump up at the shelf, but she couldn't reach. Suddenly she felt Claire's hands on her waist, as she was hoisted up. Allie giggled and reached, pulling some down. They were numbered on the cover, and together, they sat on the floor and flipped through every single one.

"These are all just coffee reviews," Claire said, sounding exasperated.

"This is making me thirsty," Allie said, "god, I can't imagine that it would be this easy. Nothing has been this easy. There's no way the answer has just been sitting here all along, all this time. It wouldn't...it just wouldn't...make sense, like, for the cops to miss it, for the agents to not look at it."

"How good of agents do you think they are? Look at how long I've eluded them, let alone you staying one step ahead that whole time," Claire said, "you stole and fed a corpse to a tiger, Meers, right under their noses. I think you give them too much credit. You've done most of the work for them."

"I just can't imagine that she wouldn't be more careful about where she kept that kind of information, you know?"

"Meers," Claire said, interrupting, snapping her fingers.

"Like," Allie continued, ignoring her, "she struck me as a much more secretive and secure individual. Someone who would be careful."

"Meers," Claire continued, snapping louder.

"Maybe I'm a bad judge of character, I don't know, but deus ex machinas in stories always feel so cheap and that's what this feels like I'm building to, some get out of jail free card, you know what I mean? Something to absolve me of my mostly willing participation in horrific incidents and give me an at least somewhat happy ending. I don't deserve that after all the things I've done. There's just no way that-"

"Allie!" Claire finally shouted, catching her off guard by using her first name; Claire grinned as Allie finally looked at her, and she slowly turned the small book in her hands over and showed it to her, whispering, "it's here. This is it."

Allie slowly reached out and took it, holding it in her own hands before cautiously flipping through it. Her eyes scanned every word, every number. This was it. This was the proof. Tony had been right. Somehow he'd been right, and somehow Raymond hadn't known about this. Nicole had in fact left it in plain sight where nobody would suspect it. Everyone had missed it. She finally, after all this time and effort, held the answer to freedom in her hands. The end was upon her. She looked up at Claire, the both of them grinning like idiots.

"What was that you were saying, about deus ex machinas?" Claire asked.

"Eh, who cares," Allie said, "those complaints usually come from people who don't know how to write anyway."

                                                         ***

Tony couldn't believe his eyes. It was here, sitting on his desk in front of him, plain as day. He looked up from the book back at Allie, sitting across from him, drinking a soda and eating peanut m&ms. Tony looked back down, then back up at her.

"You did it, it was real, and you got it," he said, sounding flabbergasted.

"Yeah well, what can I say, making things suddenly appear is kinda my whole schtick," Allie said, making him laugh; Allie leaned forward and cleared her throat, adding, "Tony...um...I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about everything sooner, and that...that I've been the cause of all this."

"You weren't the cause, Allie. This extortion bullshit has been going on for years. You just happened to do something that cracked it open," Tony said, "and frankly, I'm glad. I'm ready for it to be over. That man is dangerous and should have no power."

"...while we were there, I wondered, like, why he kept her apartment. Claire told me that maybe, uh, it was cause, ya know...he liked coming there. Remembering her. And it made me sad, cause he's a guy who's so villainous, and yet he can love his daughter, and...and my own father barely ever speaks to me. We haven't talked in years. I guess it just hurts to know that people that evil can still be better parents than the boring folks I grew up with."

"I've told you a million times, kid, you're the daughter I never had, and I'm proud of you," Tony said, "so what if your own dad doesn't care. I care. You're a great magician and a wonderful person, Allie, and I'm...I'm so happy you were in my life."

Allie wanted to cry. She couldn't get this stupid plastered smile off her face, and Tony couldn't either.

"So," Allie said, "what do we do with it now?"

Tony looked down at it and grinned.

"You're good at slight of hand, right?" he asked.

"Course," she replied, shrugging, "one of the first things you learn in magic. You need to be proficient at it."

"Good," Tony said, "Cause we're about to plant some evidence, baby girl. Jackson Strange doesn't know what's about to hit him."