broken betas// isaac lahey teen wolf

ten

"so this kid's the real killer?"

stiles nodded his head aggressively. "yeah."

the sheriff gaped to his son incredulously. "no."

"yes!"

"no."

"dad, come on!" stiles exclaimed. "everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, right? so all you have to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common."

"yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter, kara, wasn't in harris' class," the sheriff snipped.

"alright, okay, you're right, sorry," the boy muttered. "then i guess they dropped the charges against him?"

the man clenched his fists, trying to control his breathing as his irritation steadily increased. "no, you know what? they're not dropping the charges, but that doesn't prove anything. scott, do you believe this?"

scott gave the man a pleading look. "it's really hard to explain how we know this, but you just gotta trust us. we know it's matt."

"hannah?"

"honestly, if anyone's a psycho murderer in our, it would be matt," the girl shuddered at the thought of the boy. "he gives me the creeps."

"that's what i've been saying!" stiles exclaimed, glad that someone was finally agreeing with him. "he took harris' car, okay? he knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders, and that if enough of the victims were in harris' class, that they'd arrest him."

hannah furrowed her brows at the boy's words. "uh, is matt really smart enough to think of that? he seems like kind of a dud."

"alright, fine," sheriff stilinski grunted. "i'll allow the remote possibility, but give me a motive. i mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?"

"isn't it obvious?" stiles cried out. "our swim team sucks! they haven't won in, like, six years!"

"stiles, just stop talking," hannah smacked her palm against her forehead in exasperation.

"okay, we don't have a motive yet," the boy admitted. "i mean, come on, does harris?"

his father sighed, massaging his temples to ease his stress. "what do you want me to do?"

"we need to look at the evidence," scott pleaded.

"yeah, that would be in the station. y'know, where i no longer work," sheriff stilinski dryly pointed out.

"trust me," stiles told the man. "they'll let you in."

"trust you?" his father gaped.

"trust hannah!"

the sheriff folded his arms, quirking a challenging brow. "trust hannah?"

"trust-trust scott?"

"i-" he stammered. "scott i trust."

...

"i don't know guys, i mean, look at this," the sheriff gestured to the security footage as they stood in the man's office. "there was a six car pileup that night. the hospital was jammed."

"just keep going," stiles urged. "look, he had to have passed one of the cameras on that floor to get to jessica, okay? he's gotta be on the footage somewhere."

"oh, hold on, stop!" scott exclaimed. "did you see that? scroll back."

stiles quickly rewinded the tape, eyes widening as the back of matt's head came into view on the screen. "that's him! that's matt!"