It had been almost twelve hours since Terry Milkovich was shot and killed.
The police department's medical examiner had just finished the autopsy…
Or, to be precise, there wasn't really much of an autopsy at all. The examiner simply removed the three bullets that were still lodged in Terry's body—none of which had passed all the way through—and that was it. No dissection. No additional procedures.
Why?
Because Mickey had very "politely" made it clear that if the examiner dared to cut Terry open, Mickey would cut the examiner open instead.
So—
By noon that day, after the examiner submitted the report and Mickey insisted that the police release Terry's body, Mickey, Mandy, and the other Milkoviches who weren't currently locked up and were still free to move around took Terry home and held his funeral.
Before long,
Mickey's place—which wasn't big to begin with, honestly more cramped than anything—was packed wall to wall with angry Milkoviches.
In fact, quite a few of them had guns tucked into their waistbands.
Of course—
Anger and grief aren't mutually exclusive.
Mickey was both furious and heartbroken, sitting on the couch, staring at the coffin, chain-smoking one cigarette after another without stopping.
Mandy was different. What she felt was mostly sorrow. Her eyes were red as she cried nonstop.
To Mandy, Terry had absolutely been a bastard—a sick, twisted man who might've deserved what he got—but he was still her father…
And now, she didn't have a father anymore.
That was a brutal truth that made her burst into tears every time it crossed her mind.
Seeing Mickey and Mandy like this, many of their enraged relatives stepped forward to comfort them.
"Don't worry, Mickey, Mandy—we'll find that son of a bitch!"
"We'll get revenge for Terry!"
"Anyone who messes with the Milkovich family won't escape, no matter where they run!"
"…"
Mickey kept smoking in silence, listening. After a long while, he finally spoke. "Enough. Everyone stop. We'll talk about all that after the funeral."
He was sick of hearing it.
Terry's death had stirred up a mess of complicated emotions in Mickey.
He couldn't even figure out what those feelings were exactly—he just knew he was irritated beyond belief.
---
At the police station—
Murder was a big deal.
From the moment they arrived at Terry's death scene the night before, Tony and his partner hadn't slept at all. They'd been working nonstop.
Earlier that day, traffic camera footage from the surrounding roads had landed on Tony's desk.
By now,
Tony had watched all of it.
Did they have a suspect?
Yes.
But that was about all they had.
The suspect never exposed any skin and was riding a very ordinary motorcycle… and more importantly, after killing Terry, he disappeared into a massive unused area to the south not long afterward.
That area was huge.
And once you passed through it, you could go anywhere.
So how were they supposed to track him?
"Sigh," Tony's partner said, stretching hard after working so long without rest. "It's obvious this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing. Whoever did this planned it carefully."
"Which makes sense—Terry wasn't an easy guy to take down."
"At this rate, this case is probably going cold."
Tony smiled helplessly. He knew his partner was right. "Let's still dig a little deeper. Do what we can."
His partner understood Tony's sense of justice. He chuckled and patted Tony on the shoulder. "You keep at it. I need food and a break. I'm too old to keep pushing like this."
"Alright, go," Tony agreed without hesitation.
—
It was the dead of winter. It had snowed the night before, and even though the sun was out, it was still cold as hell.
In that kind of weather, driving around with the top down on a sports car…
Yeah. Not exactly comfortable.
Sure enough,
before long, Veronica—sitting in the passenger seat—was shivering uncontrollably and urging Kevin to head back. "Kevin, are you done yet? I'm freezing to death."
Kevin's face had gone a little pale from the cold, but he was too excited to care. "V, I told you to wear more clothes. How about I drop you off and take a few more laps myself?"
Veronica shot him a glare. "You just want to use this car to pick up girls."
Kevin shook his head immediately. "No way. I just want to enjoy the car a bit more."
Veronica didn't bother arguing. "Fine. Take me home. I seriously can't enjoy this thing."
Kevin laughed. "Wrong season. If it were spring, you'd love it just as much as I do."
With that, he didn't waste any time and turned back.
—
Outside the Gallagher house—
After resting for several days, Lip and Ian had recovered quite a bit and could walk around again.
The sun was bright that day. The two of them sat on the front steps, smoking and soaking it in.
Since it was Saturday, Carl didn't have school. He was sitting there too, messing around with his paintball gun.
A few minutes later—
A Ferrari pulled into view, with Kevin sticking half his head out of the driver's side.
Lip and Ian burst out laughing the moment they saw him.
They couldn't help it.
The image was just ridiculous.
"Yo, Kevin," Lip called out with a grin as the car rolled closer. "What the hell are you doing?"
Kevin turned the wheel, pulled over, and replied cheerfully, "Going for a cruise."
The car stopped right in front of the Gallagher house.
Veronica immediately jumped out, shuddered, and let out a long breath. "God—so cold."
Lip smiled at her. "Middle of winter with the top down—yeah, no kidding."
"It's because Kevin's too tall. This was the only way," Veronica said helplessly, then asked, "Is Fiona home?"
"She's still busy in the backyard," Lip replied.
Veronica didn't say anything else and headed straight back there.
"Kevin, where'd you get the car?" Lip asked, exhaling smoke.
"Dexter's," Kevin said casually. "So—want to hop in and try it out?"
Kevin hadn't thought much of it. Dexter had said earlier that it was fine to give people rides, so he invited Lip without hesitation.
The moment Lip heard that, irritation flashed across his face. "No thanks. I'm not interested in cars."
As soon as he finished—
Carl piped up loudly. "Me! Me! I wanna try it!"
As he spoke, Carl sprinted toward Kevin.
Kevin panicked. "Carl, you can get in, but the paintball gun stays out. If you get the car dirty, that's a nightmare to deal with."
Carl hesitated for half a second, then immediately ran over to Ian, tossed him the paintball gun, and rushed back to the car.
Moments later,
Kevin drove off with Carl—who'd been ordered to sit in the back seat.
—
Inside the storefront—
Dexter paid Tommy his wages.
Tommy left with his crew, all smiles.
Dexter locked the door and walked into the kitchen area.
"Claim."
Whoosh—
In an instant, a fully equipped kitchen appeared.
At that point,
the restaurant was one big step closer to opening.
Dexter took a careful look around the kitchen. He was very satisfied. After lingering for a bit, he headed out to the place Tommy had mentioned to get the restaurant sign made.
He'd already decided on the name.
It would be called—
Dex's Restaurant.