Title: NOT EXACTLY BFF's

Author: Ramos

Rating: PG-13 for language (c'mon, it's Vic!)

Disclaimer: Don't own Walt Longmire. Not Femslash. Starts the day after 'Harvest,' but ignores the rest of the season.

~Chapter 1~

Victoria Moretti had just cleared her last email and filed her last statement in the case of George Linder's death, and it was only eight-thirty in the morning. She didn't know why Walt had declared it a cold case after only three days, but then again, she wasn't sure she understood any of his motivations lately. The man had been giving her mixed signals for weeks now and it was seriously starting to piss her off. So, okay, maybe she herself wasn't a poster child for having her head screwed on straight, but it would help if he wouldn't save her life one day, hold her as she sobbed her heart out on his uninjured shoulder the next, and then turn around and act as though Vic quitting her job was just another minor administrative detail.

The outer door opened, and Ruby's standard greeting was especially cheerful. "Good morning! Nice to see you, Cady! What brings you by?"

Glancing up, Vic saw Cady Longmire walking in, her smile bright but fleeting.

"Morning, Ruby. Is my dad in?"

"No, not yet. He had a call down south county a ways. He ought to be here in an hour or so."

"Hi, Vic," Cady called, walking in through the small divider that separated Ruby's domain from the deputies'.

"Hey," she replied, actually glad to see Cady. After picking her up at the train station the day before, they'd had a really good conversation over a really difficult subject, and maybe even found some common ground. It left her feeling uncharacteristically friendly towards the younger woman with whom she'd never really connected before.

"I guess Branch isn't back yet, either," Cady surmised, looking at Branch's empty desk.

"Nope," Vic answered with a pop on the end. "Apparently we women are holding down the fort while the men-folk run around saving the day."

"Dammit," Cady muttered, flopping her jacket and a leather briefcase on Branch's desk. "I really need to talk to my dad." When Vic gave her an inquisitive eyebrow, Cady huffed. "Henry's trial is in a few weeks. We've already agreed to the extradition to Colorado, so I need to get his defense case firmed up, and right now all I've got is a big fat load of nothing."

"And you need your dad for that?"

"I was hoping to talk to him more about this Miller Beck guy, but every time I try Dad changes the subject or has to go somewhere."

"Yeah, I can see that," Vic mused. "Your dad's not big on talking."

"So you've noticed? And Henry's almost as bad," she complained, beginning to pace back and forth. "Between the two of them, you'd think I was ten years old and asking them about where babies come from."

Vic put her chin into her left hand, resting the elbow on her desk, and watched Cady.

"God forbid that they actually tell me what the hell is going on," she ranted as she crossed the five steps the small space allowed, then turned again. "I'm just trying to keep Henry from going to prison for the rest of his life. But no, they keep their secrets and give each other significant looks that tell me there's a whole hell of a lot more going on here, but neither one will talk." She stopped and regarded Vic. "I don't suppose you know how to waterboard someone, do you?"

"Uh, no," Vic admitted. "I learned some interesting things on the force in Philly, but my taste for torture has kinda gone down lately."

"Yeah, sorry," Cady said with a grimace. "How are you doing?"

"Better," Vic admitted. "My ribs are healing, and the bruises are fading." She held out her right wrist, where the abrasions were scabbing up and the bright red and purple marks were going green and yellow. "I still have headaches now and then, but they're usually caused by that one, and that one," she said, pointing first to Branch's desk and then Walt's office.

"How's Sean?" Cady asked, and then winced at the face Vic made. "Sorry I asked."

"Don't be; it's not your fault. Though if he could find a way to blame you, I'm sure he would."

Heaving a sigh, Cady pulled out Branch's chair and settled into it, prepared to wait.

"Have you tried calling Branch?" Vic asked as Cady began toying with the things on Branch's desk.

"Just once. Went to voicemail."

"So he still has your car, somewhere in Denver, and on this hunt for David Ridges," Vic summed up.

"Yeah. He was supposed to be helping me find some information on Darius Burns because I can't afford a private investigator. But then he flipped out thinking he's seen Ridges and I just gave up. I was hoping to talk to Henry, but when I called him last night, he told me not to worry about it because he had another lead."

"Did he tell you what it was?"

"No," she growled.

"Hmmm," Vic mused.

"What?"

The corner of her mouth twisted as she regarded Cady. "Are you asking my opinion, or are you just here to vent? Because, believe me, if you're here to bitch about men – especially the ones around here – I really could listen to you all day long. But if you're asking me what I think..." she trailed off.

Cady leaned forward. "My dad said you used to work Homicide in Philadelphia. So, yeah, I want your opinion."

"Okay. I think you need to go back to the beginning. I've only heard pieces, and I know Walt was involved, but I don't know the whole story and I can only guess at what he hasn't told me."

"It all started with my mother's murder," Cady stated baldly.

"Miller Beck is the guy who killed her, right?"

Red hair swayed as Cady nodded.

"How do you know?"

"My dad and Henry both said it, so I'm guessing they found out."

Vic wrinkled her nose. "Guessing gets really messy in a murder trial."

"How many murder trials have you been to?"

"More than a few."

"That's more than I have," Cady admitted. "And I've never done a murder investigation." She regarded the woman across from her. Vic was older than her by a few years, but probably a decade older in experience. "Can you help me?"

"Probably. Probably a lot. But you know Walt's gonna get pissed if I start poking around."

"Does that really matter to you?"

"Hell, no," Vic replied.

"I can't pay you," Cady added. "Henry's defense fund is running on fumes right now."

This time Vic sat forward, fiddling with the pen on her desk. "You're a lawyer, right?"

"Well, yeah, but mostly family law."

"Good. That's actually what I want. I'll take some personal time – Walt already told me to take a break if I felt like I needed it."

"Look, if you're not up to this," Cady began, afraid she was pushing Vic.

"Screw that – what I need is some solid work. And I really need to kick somebody's ass."

With sharp, determined gestures Vic walked to the storage shelf near Ruby and grabbed a fresh steno pad. The half-size notebook landed on her desk as Vic pulled her chair up with a clatter.

"Okay. Let's start with what you know about the case."

For nearly an hour, Cady talked while Vic took notes, rapidly flipping back and forth as she asked questions that made Cady reconsider every assumption she'd made so far.

"So, Martha Longmire goes to Denver for chemotherapy in May. She left the hospital after her treatment, around eight in the morning. She stopped at a café for tea on her way back to the hotel where her husband is waiting for her. A man comes out of the alley and mugs her, steals her purse and assaults her with a knife in the process. The injuries are not immediately fatal, there's time for her to be transported back to the hospital, which we already know is within easy walking distance for a woman who's not feeling a hundred percent. Her husband is able to join her and spend a few hours… saying goodbye."

Not sure if she was offended or grateful for Vic's professional, dispassionate summary, Cady nodded at each point, but was oddly comforted by the last minute hesitation. She knew Vic was fond of her boss, and showed some sensitivity towards the man they both admired, even when they were annoyed with him.

"So, the witness at the café gave a statement. Did you get a copy of the entire case file on your mother's murder investigation?"

"No. Fales showed me Beck's case file, but I didn't get a copy of my Mom's. Should I have?"

"Technically, her case has a direct correlation to Henry's motive, so yeah. Okay, here's another question I have. How did Fales connect Henry or your dad to Miller Beck's murder?"

"Um, there was a knife, found on Beck's body. It had my mother's DNA on it."

"You're shitting me," Vic declared.

"No…" Cady shook her head, puzzled. "Why do you…"

"Months later, this guy still has the same knife with her DNA on it? That's bullshit."

"It was a nice knife," Cady protested. "Maybe he couldn't replace it."

"No," Vic shook her head vehemently. "That's total bullshit. Where was Beck's body?"

Rifling through her briefcase, Cady found the file. "Buried in a shallow grave under an overpass. His neck was broken."

"Right. Like Henry would be stupid enough to dispose of a body that way. If Henry had wanted him dead, he'd have taken Beck for a ride on the Rez or down some canyon somewhere and he'd be buzzard bait."

"Hector might have killed him," Cady confessed. "Henry and my dad mentioned that. But then my Dad came up with that list of other suspects, so I'm not sure who else might have killed Beck."

"Okay. Let's go talk to Henry," Vic replied, standing up and tucking her notebook into her jacket. "I'll ask the questions this time. Ruby, I'm taking the rest of the day off. If something comes up, call Walt, then Ferg, then Branch before you call me," she ordered as she stalked out the door.

"Can't wait to see this," Cady murmured, thrusting papers back in her briefcase as she hurried to catch up with Vic.

Ruby looked up as Cady waved, following in Vic's wake.

"Good luck," Ruby called. "Good luck to Henry," she amended in an undertone as she went back to work.