Rhapsody

21. wild dogs

Maverick stands outside the door of the precinct, waiting. No, that's not quite right. Hesitating.

It's been three days since the interrogation. Three days of rest and recuperation, while the department dealt with the aftermath of having a suspect die just beneath their noses. Maverick is sure Lieutenant Darcy handled the mess just fine; he's always been good with the bureaucracy stuff. Forensics couldn't glean any information about the poison from Tobias' blood, which means, after three days, Maverick is still at square one. The killer could be literally anybody.

Eight-point-four million people in this goddamn city. Standing outside of the door of the precinct, half of Maverick wants to run. The other half knows he can't.

Eselheim.

He squeezes his eyes shut, takes a breath, and steps into the precinct.

The stale, hot air greets his lungs. Telephones ring; keyboards clack. The place is a lively beehive of activity, a far cry from the ghostly scene of a few nights ago. Maverick might've guessed Tobias' death didn't even happen, if it weren't for the glaring yellow police tape barricading the door of that wretched interrogation room. Heeding the sinking feeling in his stomach, Maverick veers away from it, head down. As he moves through the bullpen, he overhears Cassie's voice.

"Congrats on closing the robbery case. Must feel good to get a win."

Even before Maverick sees the trim waist and supermodel legs, he knows she's talking to Emery. Not ready to face his partner yet, he hunches his shoulders and continues to his desk.

"But having the sucker show up at the precinct with a full confession?" Cassie goes on. "I can't tell if that's luck or divine intervention."

"Oh, it's luck, I suppose," Emery says, voice is smooth as butter among the bullpen chatter.

Cassie says something else that Maverick can't catch. He's nearing his desk now. Emery responds in his deep timbre. They exchange back and forth. And then, the inevitable.

"Good morning, detective."

Sighing, Maverick shrugs off his coat and drapes it over the back of his chair. "Mornin'." He glances up, and fixes a pointed gaze on Emery. "You, uh... you didn't tell me we closed the robbery case."

His partner tilts his head. "I thought it wrong to interrupt your much needed time away."

Much needed. Did he really look that shitty? Maverick grinds teeth against teeth, a retort gurgling in the back of his throat, but Cassie interrupts.

"I second that. You actually look well rested for the first time in... shit, have I ever seen you look well rested?" His best friend frowns. "Huh, no, I don't think I have."

Maverick huffs. "It's been a hell of a week. Get off my dick."

"Are you talking to me or Emery?"

Emery snorts, but not even he, in all his suave glory, can hide the pink flush that creeps up his neck. Maverick, feeling his own skin prickle, shoots Cassie a look. She throws her hands in the air in immediate surrender, but her smirk is telling.

"Okay, okay, bad joke. Or good joke, just grumpy company." She shrugs, and after a moment, adds, "Seriously, though. I'm glad you got some rest. The other night was a nightmare."

Maverick flops down at his desk. "Tell me about it."

"Yes, certainly unfortunate," Emery agrees with a distracted hum.

The wolf shifts uncomfortably. Maverick watches him curiously, not missing how Emery's hands shake. A glance up to his face reveals further clues. Purple half moons and puffy, half-lidded eyes.