Private Howell - Phan

Chapter 9

The entire first floor checked out clear, and it was becoming late for Dan and Phil to do any more work. Dan had his flat two floors down from Phil's, but still decided to walk him up.

"We'll find him," he had told him. "You have nothing to worry about, Phil."

"I love you, Dan," he said before leaving, kissing his cheek. "Thanks again. We'll search more tomorrow."

"Yeah. I–I love you too." Dan was just getting used to saying the words.

"Do you want to... maybe stay with me? Here, tonight?"

Dan's heart fluttered again. How lovely would it be to stay with Phil! But unfortunately, Dan was a mix of too nervous and too shocked by the offer to say yes. "I would, but I–I cant. I uh, have to call my commander and have a little more work to do and uh... yeah."

"That's ok. The offer's still there if you do, though. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"Ok. Goodnight, Dan!"

"'Night."

As Dan left for his own flat, he had the need to clutch his beating heart again. He was smiling like an idiot.

Back at his flat, he received a call from the commander. "Howell? How's the investigation?"

"Sir, I've obtained new evidence on the criminal: If you examine the video file again, you'll notice a tattoo of a butterfly on his left arm. Phil – ah, Lester, I mean – doesn't have it."

The other line was silent. "Hmm, I see. Any leads?"

"None sir. I've been interviewing the other residents and checking for tattoos, but nothing so far. The building has ten floors, but I've only gotten through the first."

"We need to bring in somebody, so make it quick, private."

"Yes, sir."

"An should I be worried? You seem to be too close with Lester. If he's out, there is no reason to stick with him."

"But sir, Lester is helpful in the case. He's gotten me lists of the residents and their records."

"Nothing you couldn't have done on your own."

Dan became frustrated. "But sir, I –"

"Do not talk back to your commander!"

Dan's fist clenched tightly together. He had never disobeyed an order before, but for the first time, he had a reason to do so.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, private, but I want you to finish this case and get your arse back here, no ifs, ands or buts! Are we clear?!"

A bitter thing tickled Dan's face – what was that? He put his had to it. It was watery and wet. A tear? He didn't remember what it was like to cry. He didn't even remember emotion. He had never felt.

"Howell?! Are we clear?!"

"Yes," he finally said through gritted teeth. "Sir."

"I can't hear you!" he screamed. His face must've been boiling red.

"Yes sir!" he yelled back. This time it was Dan who hung up. He threw the phone across the room. He was fed up. Order after order. He had never made his own decisions. He was treated like a tool and a child. 15 years of this madness. His first account of what its like to love and be loved was with him – Phil, and now he would be told to stay away from him? No, not this time. For the first time, he would step up for himself. He would be his own man.

Dan went outside from the building and into a small Chinese restaurant to cool himself down. He ordered a stir-fry, then sat and waited. Only one other person was there, so it was nice and quiet for Dan to think.

The other person stood up and thanked the man at the counter before trying to leave. He walked past Dan, who, by instinct, took notice. He turned his head slightly – black hoodie, with the hood over their head. Looking closer, he noticed something: a small stitch in the top of the left sleeve. There was a hole there before, and someone tried to stitch it up. Right where a butterfly tattoo would be.

"Hey," Dan called. "Hey, wait up!"

They turned around, but then ran for the door.

Dan left his food at the table and ran after him. "Hey, hold on!"

 The person ran across the street and into the building that Dan was staying at. Dan followed with speed, finally tackling them to the ground on the foyer floor. While sitting on the person's struggling sternum, Dan grabbed the sleeve and tore the sewing open, revealing what he'd hoped to see – a long, black tattoo of a butterfly.