6. Six

Solving a murder with God is awkward.

It’s so awkward.

The elevator ride down to the main floor is painful. Like, literally painful. The silence is hurting Chloe’s ears. 

“Marvelous invention,” John says, glancing around the elevator with a smile. “Mankind is so innovative.”

Lucifer turns to Chloe. “Are we still doing our give and take thing?”

Chloe frowns. “Yeah. Why?”

He holds out his hand. “You should give me your gun.” 

“No,” she says, putting her hand on her hip and turning away from him. “Also, that’s not how give and take works and you know it.”

“Spoilsport,” he mutters. 

And then there’s more silence. 

When they get out of the precinct and onto the street, the sounds of the city are a welcome reprieve from the tense silence. Chloe breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe being with other people will make things less awkward. 

Or maybe not.

John doesn’t seem to fully grasp all the intricacies of being human in a busy city. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk and cranes his neck to stare up at the buildings. He stops to greet every person he passes until Lucifer grabs him by the sweater and snarls, “Just bloody walk, would you?” He also has no concept of danger. Chloe has to grab him twice to stop him from walking straight into oncoming traffic. 

“Bloody hell, Detective,” Lucifer says the second time. “Just let him get hit. He’ll learn.”

Chloe frowns at him, still holding the fistful of sweater she grabbed to yank John back onto the sidewalk. “I can’t let him get hit by a car, Lucifer.”

“Why not?” Lucifer demands. “He’ll be fine.”

“Maybe, but do you want to explain to all these people why he doesn’t have a scratch on him?”

Lucifer purses his lips but doesn’t answer. 

Chloe looks at John. “Look both ways before you cross,” she tells him, letting go of his sweater. “They don’t stop.”

John dips his head. “Of course. I’m sorry, Chloe. Thank you for looking out for my well being.”

“Call her Detective when we’re working,” Lucifer snaps.

John smiles at Chloe. “My apologies, Detective.”

Chloe smiles back. “It’s fine. No problem.”

Lucifer exhales sharply through his nose and strides away from them, muttering darkly under his breath. 

They get to the car without any further incidents. Lucifer slams his door closed with far more force than necessary, and his furious, fuming silence from the passenger seat is suffocating. Chloe glances at John in the rearview mirror and tells him to put his seatbelt on. She doesn’t bother to tell Lucifer, but she never does. He hates seatbelts. They wrinkle his suits. 

She throws the gear shift into reverse and starts to back out of her parking spot.

“Lucifer?” John says as she does. “Aren’t you going to put your seatbelt on?”

Lucifer clenches his jaw so hard Chloe wonders if he’s going to crack his teeth.

“He doesn’t like seatbelts,” she answers for him. 

John frowns. “But surely he’d wear one if you asked.”

Chloe glances at Lucifer as she shifts to drive. He’s glaring at the dashboard like he wants to burn a hole in it with his eyes. He reaches behind him, yanks his seatbelt forward, and buckles it with a forceful click. Chloe wonders if he did it for her or if he did it to shut his dad up. She decides it’s best not to ask, and focuses on guiding the car out of the parking deck. 

There’s more silence after that. 

It’s so painful.

“You want to pick the station?” she asks Lucifer when they’re finally out on the street. 

“It’s Monday,” he says without looking at her. “Mondays are your day.”

“I can make an exception.” 

Lucifer turns to look at her with a frown. “Mondays are non-negotiable. You were quite insistent about that when we made our deal. Why would today be any different?”

Chloe isn’t sure if he’s honestly oblivious that she’s trying to make him feel better, or if he’s daring her to say it in front of his dad. She doesn’t think she wants to find out. 

“Fine,” she sighs. “90s it is.”

The last half of Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls is playing, and it makes Chloe feel a little better. She loves this song. She mouths the words and bobs her head and tries to pretend she’s not trapped in a car with God and the Devil. It almost works. 

And then the song ends and the DJ comes on and says, “Up next, we’ve got *NSYNC’s God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You coming your way.” 

Chloe slams her finger on the seek button so fast the car swerves a little. The local pop station comes on, and the car is suddenly filled with Ariana Grande singing about how she wanted something and got it. Chloe turns the volume down because it suddenly feels extremely loud and she can’t remember if there’s any curse words coming up. 

She chances a glance at Lucifer. He looks like he‘s plotting something terrible. In the backseat, John looks thoughtful. 

“I’ve always liked music,” he muses.

Lucifer rolls his eyes. “No one asked. Likely because no one cares.”

John ignores him. “It makes communicating our feelings a little easier, don’t you think?”

Lucifer scowls at the window. “I don’t have feelings, so I wouldn’t know.”

It’s the kind of statement that Chloe would normally argue with him about—he definitely has feelings and that’s definitely a good thing—but she knows better than to say that in front of his father. John seems to know better too. He gazes at the back of his son’s head but doesn’t say anything. 

Time seems to inch by at a snail’s pace. The tension in the car grows increasingly stifling. Chloe has never hated L.A. traffic more than she does right now. Lucifer is doing that thing where he’s sitting perfectly still and staring straight ahead like he’s turned to stone. John is doing it too, but his stomach is growling. Loudly. 

By the time they’re sitting at their fourth red light in three minutes, Chloe can no longer ignore the fact that John’s stomach is growling so loudly that she can hear it over the radio. 

She turns in her seat to look at him. “Have you eaten today?” 

Lucifer whips his head around to look at her. Chloe ignores him. She can’t help what her mom instincts make her do, and talking about food is better than sitting in painful silence while Shawn Mendes croons about senoritas.

“I haven’t,” John says, smiling at her. “I forgot dinner last night as well, I’m afraid.”

Chloe stares at him. “You haven’t eaten in twenty four hours?”

He smiles. “I’m still growing accustomed to my human form, Ch—Detective. In my typical form, food is for pleasure, not necessity.”

Chloe blinks. Well there’s a statement she never thought she’d hear. She has about a million questions about what the words typical form mean, but she doesn’t dare ask.

She turns around in her seat just as the light turns green. She hits the gas and the car guns forward. 

“Let’s get you some food then,” she says, flicking on her blinker and darting into the right lane so she can turn into the McDonald’s parking lot up ahead.

Lucifer looks horrified. “Detective.”

“I wanted an iced coffee anyway,” she says with a shrug. It’s a lie, and judging by the way Lucifer narrows his eyes at her, he knows it. She pretends she doesn’t notice. God is in her backseat and he hasn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. What’s she supposed to do, let him starve?

Unsurprisingly, going to McDonald’s with God is just as much of an experience as everything else. John seems mystified by the menu. While they wait in a line of cars, Chloe patiently explains what McNuggets are, why McDonald’s apple pies aren’t like the pie Linda served the other night, and what the difference is between BBQ and ranch and honey mustard. Her kindness seems to annoy Lucifer almost as much as his father marveling over french fries in the backseat five minutes later. 

“Yes, yes, they’re delicious,” Lucifer growls, his hands curled into fists. “No one needs to hear you compose sonnets about bloody fried potatoes, Dad.”

Chloe shoots him a look. 

Lucifer glares at her. “What? ”

Chloe sips her iced coffee instead of answering him. 

By the time they finally pull into the parking lot of a football stadium at a local high school, John has finished his entire Diet Coke and he needs to go to the bathroom. Lucifer throws his hands up and sighs exasperatedly. Chloe kind of feels like sighing too—she’s having flashbacks of trying to take Trixie places when she was younger—but John is so apologetic she can’t be too upset. She has a uniformed officer escort him to the stadium bathrooms nearby. 

As soon as he’s out of earshot, she turns to face Lucifer. “Are you going to be like this the whole case?”

Lucifer straightens his suit jacket with a frown. “Like what?” 

“Like this,” she says, gesturing at him. 

“Well are you going to be like this? ” he counters. 

Chloe puts her hands on her hips. “Like what?”

“You’re being so…” He gestures at her, and then at the retreating figure of his father, and then back at her and says, “Ugh.”

“Polite?” she offers. 

He huffs at her. 

“You’re mad I’m being polite.”

He narrows his eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m being ridiculous.”

You are, she wants to say. She doesn’t. 

“It’s customary to be polite to ride alongs, Lucifer.”

“He’s not a ride along,” Lucifer practically snarls. “He’s my deadbeat dad who weaseled his way into our lives and now he’s plotting something. I can feel it. Why on earth would you be polite to him?”

“Um, because I’m a polite person? And because I don’t want to get struck by lightning for being rude to God?” 

“He doesn’t use lightning, Detective. He’s not bloody Zeus. Honestly, you humans. You just mix and match your gods as you see fit. It’s appalling.” 

Chloe takes a deep breath in an attempt to control her temper. “He’s a direct assignment from my boss, Lucifer. I’m just doing my job.”

“Well it wasn’t your job to buy him lunch.”

“He was hungry.”

“I don’t care.”

Chloe sighs. 

“He’s manipulating you,” Lucifer says, lifting his chin so he’s looking down his nose at her. “And you’re letting him. You’re like putty in his hands.”

“How is he manipulating me?” Chloe asks incredulously. “How does walking into traffic and needing to pee fit into his master plan?”

“Well I don’t know,” Lucifer says, fussing with his jacket again. “But it does. You don’t know him like I do, Detective. You have no idea how he works. You don’t know.”

Chloe is opening her mouth to argue with him, but she thinks better of it at the last second. The truth is, he’s right. She doesn’t know his dad the way he does. John might look like a librarian with a fondness for puzzles, but he’s not. He’s God, and Lucifer has plenty of justifiable reasons to be angry with him. Their relationship has millennia of baggage and pain that Chloe can’t even begin to understand. It’s not fair for her to expect Lucifer to pretend like everything is fine just so she doesn’t feel awkward. 

“Okay,” she tells him. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Lucifer blinks at her. “I...what?”

“You’re right,” she repeats. “I don’t know him. Maybe he is manipulating me—”

“Thank you.”

“—but even if he is, I need to keep being polite.”

Lucifer frowns. “But why? I thought you were on my side.”

“I am on your side, Lucifer. But I also have a job to do. You might be able to act however you want, but I can’t. If I’m rude to him people will notice, and they’ll tell Keller, and I’ll be screwed. Or suspended. Or both.”

“Fine, we’ll meet in the middle. We can leave him at the Rite Aid on the corner and drive away and never look back.”

Chloe smiles. “That’s tempting, but I don’t think that would keep your dad away. I have a feeling he’d just pop right back up.”

Lucifer curls his lip. “Like a bad penny,” he mutters. “Or a demonic whack-a-mole.”

Chloe laughs. “Yeah.”

Lucifer sighs and looks out over the football field. Despite the California sun, there are shadows in his eyes. Chloe thinks about the way he looked yesterday morning when he told her that he wasn’t used to someone taking care of him, and her heart aches. 

“Lucifer,” she murmurs, stepping into his space. 

He looks down at her. She reaches out to brush her fingertips briefly over his knuckles because she wants to touch him and that’s the only way she can think of that won’t catch the attention of a nosy colleague. 

“I’m on your side, okay? I’m always on your side. Being polite to your dad doesn’t change that. Nothing can change that. Ever. I promise.”

He gazes down at her, and then a hint of a smile tugs on his lips. “You give me your word?”

“Yeah. And my word is my bond, you know.”

His lips break into a real smile. “I think you’re mocking me, Detective.”

“Oh I would never,” she says in mock seriousness.

He leans a little closer to her. “How do we feel about PDA at crime scenes?”

“Probably not a good idea.”

His eyes flick down toward her mouth. “Pity.”

Chloe is opening her mouth to agree when Dan appears.

“So are you guys going to do some work today, or are you too busy making heart eyes at each other to solve murders?”

Chloe presses her lips together around a smile and takes a step back from Lucifer so they’re a more respectable distance apart.

“Well if it isn’t Detective Cockblock,” Lucifer says. “You’re looking particularly boy band-ish today, Daniel. Planning to audition for The Voice later?”

Chloe snorts. 

Dan shoots her a look. “Nice.”

“Come now, Daniel, you can’t be upset at the Detective for finding me amusing,” Lucifer says with a grin. “We all know my rapier wit is one of my sexier qualities.”

“Gross, man,” Dan says. He looks at Chloe. “I’ve got some info for you, but you probably want to talk to Ella first.”

Chloe nods. “Okay. Can you…” She trails off when she glances past him and sees that a crowd is starting to form around John on the far end of the football field. “Um. Lucifer?”

“Yes, Detective?” 

She nods at John. “Your dad is…drawing a crowd.” 

Lucifer frowns and turns around to follow her gaze. “Bloody hell,” he sighs when he sees what’s happening. “Excuse me, Detective. No need to wait, I’ll catch up.” He strides in his father’s direction, muttering under his breath about how this is just like Pompeii. 

Dan leans toward Chloe. “Did you just say dad? ” 

“Yep.”

“As in…?”

“Yep.”

“Wow.”

“No kidding.”

A beat passes, and then Dan says, “Should I be worried?”

Chloe frowns at him. “Why would you be worried?”

“Well for a while Charlotte was…and we kind of...”

“Oh. Right.” And then Chloe grins. “Yeah, maybe don’t tell God you slept with his wife.”

Dan nods. “Yeah. Good plan.”

Things go from awkward to weird real quick after that, and it’s not just because John says, “You’re one of the humans who slept with my wife” ten seconds after Lucifer introduces him to Dan. It’s not because Ella and John are best friends within two minutes. (“You give the best hugs ever! ” Ella announces, and Lucifer looks like he can’t decide whether he’s jealous or disgusted or both.) It’s not because the football coach recognizes Chloe from Hot Tub High School and can’t stop staring at her chest, either. 

It’s the singing. 

For the record, Chloe doesn’t actually know she’s singing. She doesn’t remember doing it either. She has a weird ringing in her ears all of a sudden, and an odd sort of warmth in her chest, but she assumes it’s just from the stress of the last few days and shrugs it off.

Later, when they’re leaving and Lucifer pulls her aside and demands to know why she isn’t freaking out about how unprofessional it was that they all just broke into song and dance around a dead body—which also did some dancing, apparently—she thinks he’s lost his mind. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Singing,” he repeats. “Dancing. All of you. Ms. Lopez. Detective Douche. The band, the cheerleaders, the football players. It was like a bloody High School Musical number. Well, except for your shenanigans, which I’m certain the Disney Channel would frown upon.”

“My what? ” 

“Why, you bent over, Detective,” he says. “Right in front of me. You put your rear end right up against my—”

“Okay,” Chloe cuts him off. And then she sees what he’s doing with his hand and his crotch and she smacks his arm. “Quit touching yourself at work.”

“I was only demonstrating what you just did with your ass,” he insists.

A crime scene tech walks by and gives them a weird look. Chloe can feel her face heating up. She grabs Lucifer by the arm and yanks him underneath the bleachers and out of sight. 

“Oh my, Detective,” he purrs at her while she does. “Eager to finish what you started on the fifty yard line? Very naughty. I approve.” 

“No,” she says, turning to face him with a stern look. “I’m trying to figure out what the hell my partner is ranting about. What do you mean we were singing?”

“I mean you were singing. And dancing. Honestly, I don’t know how else to explain it. There are no smaller words.”

“I don’t need smaller words, you jackass.”

He grins. “You know I love it when you talk dirty.”

“You’re not messing with me, are you?”

“Why would I...for Dad’s sake, Detective, no. I’m not messing with you. Everyone broke into spontaneous song and dance and then returned to their regularly scheduled programming as if nothing happened. It was bizarre. And I say that as someone who typically enjoys the bizarre.”

Chloe feels like her brain is short circuiting. “Why would we do that?”

“Well you tell me. You were the ones doing it. I only joined in because, you know, when in Rome.” 

“Right,” Chloe says. “Is this...I mean, could Michael have done this?” 

“Well I don’t know why he would. He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor, and as far as I know he’s not particularly interested in…” He trails off, and his eyes widen. “Wait a minute.”

“What?” 

“I know what this is.”

“You do?”

“Yes, of course.” He holds out his arms. “It’s my father, Detective.”

Chloe frowns. “Um...what?”

“This is his next move,” Lucifer says, more to himself than to her. He strokes his chin, and then he cackles so loud it echoes off the metal bleachers. “Oh, very clever, Dad. Throwing me off my game with some Queen and a little exhibitionism from the Detective. Well, two can play at that game.”

“Queen?” Chloe repeats.

“Yes. Another One Bites The Dust, specifically.”

Chloe tilts her head. “You’re telling me we all stood over a dead body and sang Another One Bites The Dust? ”

“Indeed,” Lucifer confirms. “It’s very on the nose, but that’s Dad for you.”

“This is crazy,” Chloe says, lifting her hands to press her fingers to her temples. “I can’t even...god, I need a drink.”

She expects Lucifer to offer her his flask or say something about how his dad frowns upon drinking on the job, but he doesn’t. He grabs her shoulders and grins instead. 

“He has no idea we figured it out, Detective. This is excellent. We can use it to our advantage. Really mess with his mind. Oh, Maze would be so jealous if she were here. And if I were still speaking to her. Which, obviously, I am not.”

Chloe frowns. “What are you talking about?” 

“Why, beating my dad at his own game, of course!” Lucifer says, his eyes glinting with excitement. “If he wants to sing, then we’ll sing. We’ll have a bloody celestial karaoke jam!”

He laughs again, and then releases her shoulders and strides out from under the bleachers with a maniacal grin on his face. 

Chloe stares after him, completely dumbfounded. 

“Celestial karaoke jam,” she mutters. “Great.”

It takes Chloe the next four days to crack the case.

Under normal circumstances, that wouldn’t bother her. Four days isn’t that long for a cop as detailed oriented as she is. She’s had cases that took far longer to crack. Hell, it took forever to get to the truth about Palmetto. But Palmetto, as awful as it was, didn’t involve randomly breaking into song and dance at the drop of a hat. 

She thinks it’s the not knowing that’s driving her nuts. If she knew she was singing and couldn’t help it, that’d be one thing. But she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. She just has this feeling when she’s done. If Lucifer is there, she can look at him with her eyebrows raised and he’ll nod at her to confirm that she was, indeed, singing her heart out only seconds before. But when he’s not around, she has no idea if she pulled an Idina Menzel or if she’s just paranoid. 

Speaking of Lucifer, he’s been zero help with the case. He’s far too busy glaring at his dad, or grinning at his dad, or sneaking in the titles and lyrics of songs into everything he says—and she’s using the term sneaking loosely, because he’s about as subtle as blunt force trauma caused by a sledge hammer. She’s had Trixie all four days, and Lucifer has been busy with Lux, so they haven’t even really seen much of each other except at work. Maybe that’s why she’s so frustrated.

Whatever it is, she’s starting to feel like the frayed ends of a rope. 

By four o’clock on Friday, she’s fighting off a headache. She’s perched on the edge of the conference room table, staring at two white boards full of notes and drinking lukewarm coffee. John is with Ella. Chloe has no idea where Lucifer is. She also has no idea how she’s going to solve this case. 

She’s considering whether Lucifer is onto something when he spikes his coffee when Dan appears.

“Hey Chlo,” he greets, striding purposefully into the room. “Got something for you.”

“Please tell me it’s a lead.” 

He smiles. “It is.” He holds out a folder. “You remember how you said you got a weird vibe from the victim’s kid?”

“Yeah, the son. Lucas.” Chloe sets her mug down on the table and takes the folder from Dan. “He seemed skittish. But teenagers are like that sometimes.”

Dan frowns and slides his hands into his pockets. “You ever think about what Trix is going to be like as a teenager?”

“No,” Chloe says, opening the folder. “She’s going to be ten forever and she’ll never grow out of bedtime stories or board games or hugs.”

Dan sits next to her on the table. “You think she’ll rebel?”

“Trixie?” Chloe says incredulously. “My Trixie?”

Dan grins. “You know she’s half mine, right?”

Chloe smiles and then looks down at the folder. “What am I looking at?”

“New gang called the Fantasmas have taken over parts of South L.A.” He points out a few spots on the map inside the folder. “These blocks here, and these too. And they’re expanding fast.”

Chloe frowns. “I thought this was Bloods territory.”

“It was. Fantasmas drove them out.”

Chloe lifts her eyebrows. “That’s not easy to do.”

“No,” Dan agrees. “But the Fantasmas are backed by a pretty dangerous cartel out of South America that sent in some muscle to make it happen. Bloods decided to cut their losses rather than escalate with a cartel that was eager to fight.”

“If there’s a cartel there’s drugs.”

“Yep. I called my buddy in Narcotics, and he said the Fantasma operation is pretty sophisticated. They diversify how they distribute their product, which is part of the reason why they’re expanding so fast that the LAPD can’t keep up. But I was able to get confirmation that they use teenagers to distribute in schools and community centers.”

Chloe looks up at him. “You’re about to tell me my vic’s kid was dealing for the Fantasmas, aren’t you?”

“Well we don’t know for sure,” Dan says. “He’s never been arrested or linked to anyone in the gang. But…” He flips through the file in Chloe’s hands and pulls out a few photos. “These three kids have. And they’re all over Lucas’s social media accounts.”

Chloe purses her lips. “Ella said the poison on our victim’s whistle was native to South America. I thought that was weird, but if the cartel is involved it makes sense. But what’s the theory?”

“I don’t know,” Dan says with a shrug. “Maybe Lucas was dealing, his dad found out and threatened to turn him in, and Lucas killed him before he could. Or maybe the gang did it for him.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” She shuts the folder and gets to her feet. “I’m going to pay Lucas a visit and see what he’s got to say. Can you do some digging and see if the cartel has a history of using the poison Ella identified on the whistle?”

“You bet.”

“Thanks, Dan.”

She’s halfway to the door when Dan calls out after her. “Hey Chlo?”

She turns around. “Yeah?”

He folds his arms over his chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem...tired.”

As if on cue, her headache throbs hard between her eyes. She sighs. “Celestial karaoke jam,” she mutters, leaning against the doorframe.

Dan frowns. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You sure? Cause I can take Trixie the next few nights if you want. Give you some time to relax and blow off some steam. Or hang out with Lucifer and...you know. Do whatever it is you guys do.”

Chloe smirks. “Whatever it is we do?”

“Hey, I do not want to know,” Dan says, holding up his hands. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay.”

Chloe smiles. “I’m fine. But if you want Trix for a few days, that’s fine with me.”

Dan smiles. “Okay. I’ll get her from the sitter.”

“Thanks.” 

Chloe turns around, and runs right into Lucifer’s chest. She’s immediately assaulted by the smell of his cologne, and then his hands wrap around her arms and she feels heat jolt through her body. 

“Detective,” he says. “Hello there.”

She tips her head back. “Hey. Where have you been?”

“I...had something to take care of,” he says, dropping his hands from her arms. She knows he’s strategically telling her the truth, but she’s too tired to call him on it. 

“Right,” she says instead. “Okay then.” She brushes past him and heads for her desk to get her keys. “I’m going to talk to Lucas. You don’t need to come if you’ve got stuff to do.”

“No, no, it’s all taken care of, I assure you,” he says, following her. “Let’s hit the road, Jack.”

She looks up at him. “What?”

“Ray Charles, Detective. Don’t tell me you don’t know the song?”

She blinks at him for a second, and then sighs. “Celestial karaoke jam,” she says. “Of course. Because that’s all we talk about now.” 

She pulls her desk drawer open with a little more force than she needs to. She roots around, trying to find her keys, and finally does. She slams it closed, and then turns and runs into Lucifer’s chest again. Her temper flares.

“Do you have something against personal space today?” she asks, stepping back and looking up at him.

He grins. “I have something against personal space every day, darling.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Walked right into that one,” she mutters.

Lucifer frowns. “Are you all right, Detective? You seem rather...”

“I’m fine,” she says before he can finish. “I’m just tired. Are you coming with me or not?”

Lucifer opens his mouth, but John beats him to it.

“Where are we headed?” he asks, stopping next to them.

“Oh good,” Lucifer says, his voice dripping in sarcasm. “You’re still here.”

John smiles. “I was discussing the multiverse with Ms. Lopez. She has some truly fascinating theories about travel between dimensions.”

Lucifer furrows his eyebrows. “I’m fairly certain fascinating isn’t the word I’d use to describe that conversation.”

“Can we not do this right now?” Chloe interrupts before they can start arguing or—please no—someone starts singing. “I have a job to do. Are the two of you coming or not?”

Lucifer frowns at her. 

John bows politely. “Yes, of course, Detective. Lead the way.”

Chloe heads for the stairs without another word.

Lucas isn’t the killer. 

But he runs like he is. 

Chloe is halfway up the path leading to his front door, Lucifer and John in tow, when Lucas walks out the front door with a skateboard under his arm. He freezes when he sees them. 

“Hi Lucas,” Chloe greets. She gives him what she hopes is a disarming smile. “Can we talk about your dad?”

His eyes widen, and then he bolts. 

Chloe swears and takes off after him. She’s really not in the mood to chase teenagers through the streets, especially teenagers who are track stars, but she gets lucky. There’s a tricycle sitting in the middle of the yard next door. Lucas glances over his shoulder at her and doesn’t even see it. He trips and goes flying, and by the time he rolls over in the grass, Chloe is standing over him with her gun drawn. 

“Put your hands up,” she orders.

He puts his hands up. 

Fifteen minutes later, they’re sitting in Lucas’s living room while the sun sets outside the large picture window in the front of the house. 

Lucas is in tears. Turns out Dan was at least partially right. Lucas’s dad did find out he was dealing for the Fantasmas, and he did confront his son. But instead of killing his dad, Lucas begged him for help. He and his friends had just wanted some extra cash, and they ended up in over their heads. They wanted out and weren’t sure how to make it happen. Lucas’s dad said he would help.

And then he ended up dead. 

“It’s my fault,” Lucas sobs with tears streaming down his face. “He’s dead because of me.” 

Chloe is opening her mouth to comfort him, but she doesn’t get a chance.

“It’s not your fault, son,” John says, leaning forward to put his hand on Lucas’s shoulder. 

Lucas shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have dragged him into it. I shouldn’t have told him the truth. I should’ve just taken care of it myself.”

“No, Lucas,” John says gently. “You did the right thing. You needed help, and you were scared, so you went to your father. That’s what you’re supposed to do. I’m certain if he were here, he’d say that’s what he wanted you to do.”

“How do you know?” Lucas asks, wiping his face with his sleeve.

John smiles. “Because I’m a father. And fathers always want what’s best for our children.”

“Oh is that so,” Lucifer interrupts.

Chloe snaps her head in his direction. He’s leaning against the window frame, and despite the fact that his posture screams bored, there’s fury written clearly on his face. 

“Yes,” John says evenly. “It is.”

Lucifer’s eyes flash red. 

“Lucifer,” Chloe says, getting to her feet. “Maybe you guys can do this later? You know, not in front of our witness?”

Lucifer ignores her. He pushes off the window frame and straightens to his full height, still glaring at his father. “Is this the part where you tell me that kicking me out was what was best for me?”

John smiles sadly. “I know you don’t see it that way. But you have to understand—”

“Oh I understand perfectly,” Lucifer cuts him off. “What’s best for me is whatever’s best for you, right?”

“No, son.”

“You sent me to Hell.”

“You needed to be away—”

“Away? Do you even understand what that means? Do you have any idea what it’s like—”

“Lucifer,” Chloe interrupts, stepping between them. She grabs his arm. “Stop it, okay? Look at me.”

Lucifer shrugs out of her grasp and doesn’t look at her. “Not now, Detective.” 

Car doors slam outside. Chloe’s training draws her eyes toward the window even though she wants to keep her focus on Lucifer. There are three muscle cars sitting in the street near her cruiser. A group of at least seven men is gathering near her bumper. Lucifer is shouting in her ear at his father, but she isn’t listening. Something is wrong. She can feel it.

And then she sees the AK-47s. 

“Lucifer,” she says, reaching for her gun as she yanks him back from the window.

“I said not now, Detective.”

“Yes, now. We’ve got company.”

“What?” 

She nods at the window. He leans to the left and follows her gaze out the window. “Who on earth are they?”

“They’ve got to be Fantasmas.”

“Oh god,” Lucas groans. “They’re here for me. They’re going to kill me like they killed my dad. I don’t want to die.”

Chloe looks over her shoulder at John. “Take Lucas out the back door and run. Don’t stop.”

“No,” Lucifer says.

Chloe looks up at him, ready to snap that now is not the time to argue with her, but he looks down at her with a grim expression. 

“They appear to be sending two around the back.” 

She peers out the window through the sheer curtains and, sure enough, two of the men seem to be headed to the back of the house.

“Where’s the back door?” she asks Lucas.

He looks at her with wide, terrified eyes. “In the kitchen.”

“Get him upstairs,” she tells John. “Barricade yourselves in a room. Now.” 

John puts his hand on Lucas’s shoulder and ushers him hurriedly toward the stairs. 

Chloe pulls her phone out and dials Dispatch as she peers out the window again. “You need to go with them, Lucifer.”

“Absolutely not,” Lucifer says. “I’m not leaving you to face seven thugs on your own.” 

“I’m armed,” Chloe points out as she lifts her phone to her ear. “You’re not.”

“Yes, but I’m bulletproof.”

“You sure about that?” 

He frowns at her and then leans over to look out the window.

“Dispatch,” a voice says in Chloe’s ear.

“This is Detective Decker, Unit 831, requesting—”

“Detective!” Lucifer shouts. 

He lunges at her. He wraps his body around hers just as the picture window next to them shatters, and the house is filled with a barrage of bullets.