A/N: Okay, this is a new story - one without Lynne. I know, so sad. Anywho, I KNOW this is completely going against the cannon of the show, but I wanted to see what would happen if Bobby had a sister. So I wrote this. Enjoy.
Wilma looked at the picture she held in her hands, one of her fingers absently tracing the jaw line of the man she didn't know, but who looked so familiar. She looked at the investigator before her, "You're sure he's the right one?"
The man nodded, "I was able to find two brothers, but the other one is a deadbeat like you described your father was –I can get you his files tomorrow. This one's a cop."
Wilma's brown eyes were introspective and soft as she looked at the photo of her brother. "Like me," she whispered softly.
"Yes, Ms. Carson. He works for the NYPD in the Narcotics unit."
Wilma Carson's face became a stone mask the investigator she had hired to find her family could not see through. Her deep brown eyes found his and she said, "Thank you, Mr. Rouen. Do you have his contact information?"
Mr. Rouen nodded and handed her a file with all the necessary information. "That has his last known address, work line, and other pertinent information."
She pulled out a blank envelope from her purse, "Here's your money. Thank you for your services."
Mr. Rouen snorted, "I could hardly say no to a police officer, Ms. Carson. Good day."
Soon Wilma was left alone at the table in a little, inconspicuous café she had chosen for her encounter with the PI she had hired to find her father's family. He was dead, her mother was dead, but this man she saw before her in a black and white photo, this man was alive.
After a moment by herself, Wilma sighed, bringing her tall, lanky body up to it's full height as she dropped a tip on the table and went to pay the bill before going to put in a request for a transfer. It wasn't that Indianapolis was a poor choice for an officer with the police department, but she needed a change of scene … and if this man really was her father's son and was willing to try at a relationship with her, then so be it.
Captain Charlie Sound was not eager to let one of his best street officers transfer to New York City, but he had little choice in the matter. Detective Wilma Carson had put in her request and had no active cases or other disputes to hinder her acceptance into the ranks of the NYPD.
It might be a little difficult to catch as many perps without her on the force in Indiana, but Sound was sure that his department would recover. Officers fell every day in the line of duty, and there were always more to replace them.
And that was how that Detective Wilma Carson, of the Indianapolis Police Department, Vice division, came to be where she was now, standing in front of a door that would change her life forever – for good or bad was yet to be determined. All she knew, was that she had to walk into that bullpen, filled with men who would look at her and see only a pretty face and beautiful body and dismiss the badge she wore on her jacket.
Well, she wasn't working Vice anymore. Apparently, Captain Sound had put in 'a good word' for her and her new orders were for Narcotics. It seemed that even hundreds of miles away, Sound was still trying to keep Wilma safe in the very dangerous career she had chosen. She knew that her brother would be on the other side of that door, but she didn't know if he'd even recognize her – they'd never met before, after all. She could only hope that he looked the same as his picture.
She opened the door, a mask of cool indifference firmly in place on her face as heads looked up from what they were doing to see who had dared to enter the domain of the Narcs. Most turned back to their paperwork after seeing the badge on the tall, slender woman's shoulder – but some followed her with their eyes as she boldly walked through the bullpen and straight up to the Lieutenant's door, which she knocked on before opening and walking in.
Lieutenant Nathan Ashley looked up from his paperwork to see a woman about six feet in height, slender and beautiful in a mysterious sort of way enter his office. "Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked politely when he saw the badge pinned to her lapels.
She snapped off a perfect salute, "Detective Wilma Carson, reporting for duty, sir."
Ashley stood up, inspecting his newest officer. There was something about her that reminded him of another officer in his unit – Robert Goren, but he couldn't put his finger on it. She was impeccably dressed in a smart looking black, pinstriped suit and crimson shirt that showed off her figure without being blatantly obvious or suggestive. But there seemed to be this illusiveness in her face … her eyes, yes that's it. It was her eyes that reminded him of Bobby. Now all he had to do was figure out why.
"You're new partner is Odafin Tutuola." Ashley opened the door to his office and poked his head out the door, "Tutuola! My office, now." As he was speaking, Wilma was busy taking in her surroundings and noting the many differences and similarities between the INPD and the NYPD.
Soon Wilma and her new boss were joined by a black man a few inches taller than Wilma with long curly black hair pulled back by a hair band. At first glance, Wilma knew that if she spotted him on the streets she'd think she was looking at a drug dealer or a pimp – definitely not a police officer. When she held out her hand for him to shake, she was pretty sure he thought she looked more like a model than a police officer.
Odafin took her hand and was surprised by the strong grip her demeanor belayed. "Tutuola, this is your new partner, Wilma Carson. Give her the ten-cent tour and show her where her new desk is before you get back to work on your case. I want her fully integrated by the end of the day."
"Yes, sir," Tutuola said, motioning for the woman to precede him out of the office. He was showing her the break room when he finally said, "You can call me 'Fin'. It's easier for most of these guys to remember than Odafin, anyway."
Wilma glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes followed her. "Wilma's a pretty common name, Fin. But if you feel the need to give me a nickname, go right ahead. Just don't stare."
"Sorry, but are you related to Robert Goren?" Fin asked as he showed her back to their desks. "He's working this case with me while waiting for his new partner."
That sounded rather odd to Wilma, that two men in the same squad would both lose their partners and not be partnered together. "I'm not sure. That's part of the reason I requested this transfer."
"And the other part?" Fin asked, pulling out her seat for her like any gentleman would.
Wilma shrugged, "Change of scenery. I was stuck in Indianapolis for the past five years, walking the streets in Vice. Figured New York would provide more excitement."
"Here's the case file. We've got all the information we need, we just gotta catch the guy," Fin said, motioning for one of the other men to join them as Wilma read up on the case she had just been thrown into.
Wilma growled low in her throat as she read the report for a second time. Now she was beginning to understand why she was Fin's partner: apparently the dealer they were after had a thing for women with an addiction only he could sate. He'd killed five women already when he'd grown tired of them, and now that Wilma was there she knew that she was going to pretend to be his next victim.
Without looking up from the document, Wilma spoke, "I take it you're Detective Goren? What's the plan to get this guy?"
Bobby was a little taken aback by her attitude, but he soon recovered, "Uh, I was going to go in there posing as a crack addict … get a sale then we bust him … on the sale charge. We get him to confess to the murders in interrogation."
This time, Wilma did look up. Her hard brown eyes met Bobby's, noting the brief flicker of recognition that passed through his chocolate gaze before she said, "You're telling me that you don't have enough evidence to nail him on the murders?"
Fin looked at her sharply, "Now he didn't say that. We've got the goods on 'em, but confessions make the DA happy."
Bobby smirked slightly at the black officer, "And when the DA's happy, Ashley's happy. And when Ashley's happy – we're all happy."
Wilma smiled lightly, "Okay, then. I'm game, but I think I should be the one to go in and distract him while you guys are getting into position."
Bobby and Fin both looked Wilma up and down, trying to picture the beautiful woman in an undercover situation. Wilma just rolled her eyes at the two of them, knowing that they were picturing her walking down a runway, not playing a crack addict, "All right, then, let's head on down to The Salvation Army and I'll prove it to you two."
Soon the three of them were heading out for lunch and a trip to Sal's so that Wilma could prove to them that she could do undercover as something other than a prostitute or a damn supermodel.
A/N: So? Is she too much like Lynne or Alex? Please tell me what you think of this. It may be a while between updates (as I have to keep up with Lynne's storyline and 'Matchmaker') but I WILL be updating if you guys like it.