Chapter12
1775 Words
5:20 PM, February 27th, Homicide Division
The aroma of a freshly delivered pepperoni pizza with added mushrooms and green peppers filled the small room. Detective Isaiah Barton, Captain Carlton Winston, Raymond Cornell, and Demi Mason were engrossed in looking over small stacks of papers while munching on slices of the mouth-watering pie. My heavy size seventeen shoe footsteps alerted them to our presence.
“Hey, Sergeant. Hey, George,” Isaiah mumbled, fighting with the mozzarella stretch hanging off the slice he was holding.
“What’s all this?” George inquired about the stacks of papers.
“Ray and I gained access to that cell phone, and we found loads of files and photos concerning The Roundhouse,” Demi, my favorite forensic minion, explained. “We’ve printed off what we could and brought them here.”
“The photos are still processing,” Ray informed us. Obviously.
I grabbed the nearest stack and sat at my desk. Flipping through the pages, my eyes want to cross and a headache threatens to evolve.
“What the hell am I looking at?” I griped. “Genome. De…oxy…riboflavin?” Yeah, I flubbed the last one.
“Deoxyribonucleic acid,” Raymond corrected me. “It’s more commonly known as DNA.”
“Thanks. Are you able to translate all this scientific stuff?” I asked the forensic minions.
“Under normal circumstances, yes,” Cerber-nerd confessed, “but this is more advanced. Just from glancing at the files, two different tests seem to be being conducted.”
“What specific type of tests are we looking at?” Captain Winston chimed in.
“My guess would be…something biological,” Demi stated the obvious.
No shock, Sherlock.
“Once the photos are processed, I’m sure Demi and I will be able to better decipher what’s in the files.” Raymond volunteered a feasible solution.
“Okay, so what should be done with the printouts? They seem rather important since two or more people were killed over it,” George observed with concern.
“Raymond and Demi, take the printouts and keep them under lock and key,” Captain Winston instructed. We gathered the papers and handed them over to the minions. With great care and discretion, they headed back to their lair to lock them safely away.
Not soon after they left, the same icy breeze flitted by and seconds later the same photo fell from the presentation board. Out of habit, George got up and replaced the photo on the board.
“Hey, have you noticed that the hole in this photo isn’t torn?” he asked.
But before anyone could answer, a knock followed by a foreboding shadow came from the doorway.
“Sergeant, a word with you please,” the commanding voice instructed.
“Sure, chief, what’s up?” I followed him toward Captain Winston’s office.
5:50 PM, Captain Carlton Winston’s office
“Have a seat, Mike,” Chief Edwards heavily suggested. Dear g-ddess, what’s this going to be about now? “Relax, this isn’t department-related.” He leaned against the desk.
“Okay,” I sighed, slumping into the hard chair. I folded my arms in front of me. “What is it then?”
“It’s about that juvenile—”
“I thought you said it wasn’t department-related?” I asked, interrupting him.
“It’s not. But…if you would let me finish before interrupting me,” he rightfully griped.
“Sorry—”
“Anyhow, since the juvenile’s mother hasn’t been contacted yet…and since she claims that you’re her father…” the Chief rambled, struggling to find the right words. “I’m asking you to take guardianship of her until her mother arrives to claim her.”
“Why me? Why not someone else?” I whined.
“I’m trying to avoid getting CPS involved, Mike. I don’t want to see her end up in foster care. It’s a crap shoot on who she’ll end up staying with,” he explained. “Hanna and Eugene were in foster care and endured hell. If it wasn’t for the Montgomerys… Well, things would be much different.”
“Fine,” I grunted. “What will need to be done? Is asking for a paternity test valid?”
“We’ve been wanting to do one, but she needs a parent or a legal guardian present.”
“So, who’s going to be running the test?” I asked. Hey, we werewolves are still hiding from the general public. The less exposure we get, the better.
“Dr. William Frederickson from the university,” the Chief rattled off. “He’s been working on a special program to distinguish between human, animal, and supernatural DNAs.”
“Chief… Have you met Anderson Jacobs, our current POI who is in the special holding cell? That tidbit puts Dr. Frederickson high on the POI list, especially after what forensics discovered on that cell phone,” I casually informed him.
“Hmm…” Fenton Edwards pondered. “That would seem like a conflict of interest.” He paused. “But… current case aside, he’s the best option for conducting the paternity test, Mike. You and your alleged daughter are expected to be at the Biology building by 6:30 AM for the test.”
“Fine,” I said in a huff, rubbing the back of my neck. “I suppose I should see her… So, what’s her name?”
“Jewel Everlee Thorne.”
“Thorne?” I questioned, arching one eyebrow upwards.
“Yes, Thorne. She was moved to Interview Room #2. Tiffeny is bringing her a decent meal for her to eat, and my sister Mrs. Winston is bringing her some new clothing and school supplies.”
“Thanks,” I sighed in my frustration.
“Oh… and Mike, you’ll be taking some time off,” Chief Edwards casually stated.
“May I ask why, Chief?”
“From my experience and her current situation…,” he began, then let out a long breath. “She needs guidance. Help her find a routine so she can gain some self-confidence. And who knows, maybe you’ll find it too.”
I shot him a side glare. I know he’s referring to my alpha gene. Why can’t the Chief leave it the hell alone?
"You have some vacation time saved up, Mike. If you don't use it--"
"I lose it."
6:18 PM, Interview Room #2
Looking through the narrow window on the door, I saw the small five-foot-one-inch figure sitting at the table. The dull gray-colored walls surrounded her like an awkward hug. Chief Edwards’ daughter, Tiffeny, sat close to Jewel, encouraging her to eat. In a motherly manner, she moved a loose section of hair out of the juvenile’s face and gently tucked it behind one ear. She’d make one hell of a mother. I secretly wished she was my mate. But, I’m not here for her. I’m here for the juvenile claiming to be my daughter.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. The delicious smell of orange blossoms, soft musk, and ginger filled the room. Damn, her. Tiffeny stiffened her back the moment I entered the room. The juvenile cowered immediately.
“You’ll be okay. He’s not as scary as he looks,” I heard Tiffeny whisper to Jewel, then gave her a wink. “Sergeant, please make sure Jewel finishes her meal,” Tiffeny instructed me as she moved past me.
The sound of the latch clicking closed brought a tightness to my chest again. I took the seat Tiffeny formerly occupied. I loosened my tie and made myself comfortable. Getting a better look at her, Jewel had my eye color and unfortunately my nose. Instead of eating, she played around with the food.
“Can we leave now?” she grumbled in a whiny voice. However, her voice was more of a whisper.
“Not until you finish your food,” I replied, rubbing my hand over my face. I surprised myself at how quickly I went into instant “Dad-mode”.
Like most typical juveniles we deal with, Jewel leaned in her chair with a huff, crossing her arms in front of her, pouting. Yep, she has my mannerisms…and I’ve called myself a juvenile.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat your food,” I repeated myself. She’s a stubborn ass. Why do I get the feeling that I’m gonna sound like a broken record for the rest of my life?
Minutes turned into an hour as I waited for Jewel to finish her cold meal. Guaranteed it was hot when she first received it. Thankfully, she was making progress and most of it was gone. A knock on the door startled me out of my intense staring at Jewel’s food. It was Kane Riesling, the Prosecuting Attorney for Wolfdale City.
“Hey, Sergeant and Miss Thorne,” he greeted us upon entering the room. “You will be going before Judge Teagan Nolan in Family Court.”
“How soon is she expecting us?” I inquired, sitting straighter in my seat and fixing my tie. Jewel only rolled her eyes while picking at the food.
“Within the hour, if not sooner,” he replied.
“Okay, thank you. We’ll be there.” Turning to Jewel, “If you finish eating the burger, I’ll finish your fries, deal?” I think I may have found a way to bond with…my daughter. It still sounds weird, but nice.
Jewel nodded her head while chewing on one of the seasoned fries. Then she and I attacked the rest of her meal. Judge Nolan isn’t one for tolerating tardiness–and Jewel and I are in hot water already. We successfully finished the meal within ten minutes and washed our hands and faces. Yay, us! No sarcasm this time. Jewel pulled a small hair brush and ponytail holder from one pocket on her hoodie jacket. The hairbrush held faint remnants of orange blossoms, soft musk, and ginger. Why is she reminding me of another Blackwater I know?
“Do I want to know how you ended up with this?” I questioned her, lifting one of my eyebrows.
“The nice lady gave it to me…honest,” Jewel explained with pleading puppy dog eyes. s**t! There’s no winning with this one.
“Fine,” I grunted. “Hand them over. I don’t know how well I’ll do, but we’ll try. Okay?”
I managed to successfully brush and put Jewel’s hair into the holder. She looked cute. I think she almost smiled at me.
“C’mon, let’s head over to the courthouse,” I gently instructed.
- Writer
