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Barry Allen—the Flash—would never know how many versions of himself had traveled back to the night his mother died.
Hawk had always thought that was just a joke.
Until the same story played out in his own life.
He'd originally assumed that on the day his biological father Andrew died, only one angel had traveled back through time to New York City—Father John.
He never expected...
The two gunmen—one tall, one thin—who'd staged that "chance encounter" and murdered his father were also angels.
Just ones who predated his timeline.
And not just any angels—these were ones who'd severed their own wings, casting themselves down to become ordinary humans. Angel... martyrs?
Hawk pondered this.
That explained everything. He'd recorded both gunmen's energy signatures on the day Andrew died twenty years ago. Yet when he returned to New York and swept the city with his Seventh Sense, he'd found no trace of them.
However—
If mystical methods weren't working, he'd try scientific ones instead.
And he knew exactly who to ask.
George Stacy.
Yes.
His soon-to-be father-in-law.
"My dad was the patrol officer on this case?" On the way to the 21st Precinct, Gwen sat in the passenger seat, disbelief written across her face. "He was the one who notified Amy that Andrew had died?"
Hawk smiled faintly and glanced at her.
"Surprised?"
"This isn't a surprise, Hawk."
Gwen's expression turned serious. "Death is never something to joke about. Especially when that day was your turning point."
Hawk took the correction gracefully.
"Sorry."
"But..."
Gwen accepted his apology for turning tragedy into humor, then continued with curiosity. "My dad was just a patrol officer on this case. If you want to find those two gunmen, shouldn't we be looking for the detectives who actually handled the investigation?"
Hawk smiled. As they waited at a red light, his right hand reached toward the back seat. A case file—printed out at his request by Sharon Carter—flew from the trunk into his grasp. He handed it to Gwen.
Gwen took it and began flipping through the contents.
Just as she'd said.
Initially, George Stacy had been nothing more than a patrol officer assigned to the Andrew case.
But—
This case also happened to be the first homicide of George Stacy's patrol career.
Everyone knew how it went.
First times were always special for men. Always more memorable.
As for why—
"Hss!"
"Dad reopened this case a month ago?"
Gwen reached the final pages and saw that 21st Precinct Captain George Stacy had reinitiated the investigation. Her eyes went wide. "Wait—this case was never solved?"
Hawk shook his head. "No."
For George Stacy, this had been the first homicide of his patrol career.
But for the two detectives assigned to the case, it was just another unsolved file among many in their careers.
Nothing special.
Completely unremarkable.
After two weeks of investigation, both detectives had closed the case, citing gang-related violence as the cause.
Simple as that.
After all, the port where Andrew worked happened to be Hell's Kitchen gang territory. So the detectives' conclusion of gang retaliation had been perfectly reasonable at the time.
...Bullshit.
"Amy refused to sign the body release form, insisting the deceased (Andrew) was not affiliated with any gang. She refused to accept the findings."
"The body remained in cold storage at a Brooklyn medical examiner's office."
"One month ago, the 21st Precinct—having reopened the case—claimed the remains."
"..."
Gwen finished reading the file, then looked at Hawk. Her mouth opened, wanting to say something, but no words came out.
Hawk said it for her.
"Quite the coincidence, isn't it?"
"..."
Gwen rolled her eyes, then spoke softly. "I know you don't feel connected to the Chloes. But try—just try—not to turn suffering into jokes."
Hawk met Gwen's gentle, admonishing gaze. The smile faded from his face. He acknowledged her words with a quiet sound, said nothing more, and drove them to the 21st Precinct.
...
Sitting in his captain's office, George—wearing his daylight ring—leaned back in his chair. His eyes went wide as he stared at Hawk, voice thick with disbelief.
"You're Andrew's child?"
"Yes."
"Dad, you've asked that three times already."
Gwen stood nearby, exasperated. She steered the conversation back on track. "Dad, you were the patrol officer on this case back then?"
"Yes."
"I remember it clearly."
"It was the day after your baptism. My patrol partner and I were on the streets when we got the call. Per precinct orders, we located Amy and brought her in to identify the body and answer questions."
"It was the first homicide of my patrol career."
"And Amy came back to raise hell a few times afterward, so it really stuck with me."
George glanced at his daughter Gwen, then turned to Hawk, recounting his memories of the Andrew case.
Ever since becoming a vampire, he'd noticed his memory had improved dramatically.
"Amy never accepted Giorno and Bruce's conclusions."
"Giorno and Bruce were the detectives assigned to the case."
"Amy insisted her husband wasn't a gang member. She also mentioned that on the day of the incident, the convenience store owner had seen a patrol officer chasing after the two gunmen."
"But Giorno and Bruce's report made no mention of this."
"That's why Amy rejected their investigation. She demanded different detectives."
"Did they reassign the case?"
Gwen pressed, curious.
George laughed.
"In 1995?"
"Reassign detectives?"
"Not a chance."
Gwen fell silent.
Right.
The nineties had been the golden age of NYPD detectives running wild.
Hawk frowned. "Was there actually a patrol officer who gave chase?"
In his memory, two patrol officers had indeed passed by at the time, and one of them had pursued the gunmen.
George looked at Hawk.
"Yes."
"It caused quite a stir."
"The captain at the time got involved, chewed out Giorno and Bruce. A patrol officer really had chased those gunmen—but lost them."
"The officer also couldn't get a clear look at either shooter's face."
"On top of that, the patrol officer had asked Giorno and Bruce to leave it out of the report—didn't want to fill out extra paperwork. So the detectives never included it."
"Afterward, the captain sent me to explain the situation to Amy."
"I went."
"But the house had already been sold. Amy had vanished without a trace."
"Until—"
"One month ago."
"..."
Hawk raised an eyebrow.
Gwen's eyes remained fixed on her father, unblinking.
George didn't keep them in suspense.
"About six weeks ago, I was on my way home when someone stopped me."
"Amy."
"She said she'd seen us in the papers—the news about us taking down the Shoelaces gang. She knew I was captain of the 21st now."
"Amy asked me to reopen the investigation into her husband's death."
"But you can't just reopen another precinct's case on a whim."
"I refused at first. So I told her the truth about what happened back then—that the patrol officer had simply wanted to avoid the hassle, which is why it was never reported."
"And then..."
"Amy told me she'd been threatened. That's why she'd moved. Why she'd left her children at the church."
"But..."
George paused here, regarding Hawk with an odd expression. His tone carried a note of melancholy. "I never imagined that child would turn out to be you."
Hawk had grown accustomed to George's surprised looks.
He shrugged, expression calm.
Gwen, seated beside him, was completely absorbed in the story. She pressed on.
"Then what? Did Mrs. Chloe tell you who threatened her?"
"She did."
George withdrew his gaze and looked at Gwen, nodding with a faint smile. "She said that after she refused to sign the papers—before she moved out of that house—Bruce and that patrol officer stalked and threatened her."
Hawk's eyebrow rose.
Gwen's eyes widened.
"So that's why you reopened the investigation?"
"I wanted to. But this was all based solely on Amy's testimony. I couldn't reopen a homicide investigation just because of one person's statement—especially when the subjects of that investigation were fellow officers."
"Not to mention, Bruce died in the line of duty nineteen years ago."
"That patrol officer also died that same year in a fire."
"Under those circumstances, if I investigated them—even as precinct captain—I'd be crucified."
George shook his head, expression helpless.
Once again—
He was strict, not stupid.
Having risen through the ranks from the bottom, no one understood better than him what kind of storm an investigation into fellow officers would unleash.
Especially two officers who'd died in the line of duty.
Forget him—even the NYPD Commissioner would face massive resistance trying to reopen an investigation into those two.
The police union might very well stage a protest march.
Hawk listened to George's explanation, frowning.
"But you did reopen the investigation. Which means you must have found some evidence, right?"
"Yes."
George looked at Hawk and smiled slightly. "I saw Bruce."
Hawk raised an eyebrow.
Gwen blinked.
"Dad, didn't you say Bruce died nineteen years ago?"
"He did."
George nodded. "I even attended his funeral nineteen years ago."
As he spoke, George opened his desk drawer, retrieved a photograph, and handed it to Hawk. "But one month ago, I spotted Bruce at a vampire bar."
Hawk reached out and took it.
Gwen leaned in close beside him.
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