Chapter 13

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-Ruarc Brennan-

I rolled my eyes at Harlen's words and moved my hand to Quan's shoulder, keeping him from moving any closer to my group of friends. They were all on edge and didn't take well to strangers. They weren't purposefully trying to cause anyone discomfort, except for maybe Harlen. I understood why they felt that way, but it didn't stop it from being inconvenient.

"There'll be no blood draining," I warned. "Quan, you can do what you need to do. Please don't go far."

He nodded mutely before using his cane to guide himself to the side of the road. He stepped down and then crouched, putting his hand on the tarmac. He then sat on the curb, his eyes sliding closed.

"What is he doing?" Harlen hissed in my ear. I hadn't noticed him come closer, but I remained unfazed. "He looks mad."

I sighed and turned my head to face him. His brown eyes were dark and cold. He looked almost ferocious with his beard and mass of hair. He was trying to make himself seem taller by straightening his back and legs, but he was still a few inches shorter than me.

"He's doing what he has to do," I told him. "You can only complain if he finds nothing. Even then, he's trying."

"Trying isn't going to bring justice to Simon," Harlen argued louder.

"Nothing will bring justice to Simon," Aubrey argued, stepping in the middle of us. "The investigator is the best chance we have. As long as he minds his own business."

"The investigator can hear you," Quan said from his place by the road. "I don't really care what you guys have going on. I really don't care too much about whether or not this is 'right'." He used air quotations with the hand which wasn't holding the handle of his cane. "I just care about gathering information against a potential murderer."

My friends were silent. I wasn't sure if friends was the right word to describe them, but they had been with me since I moved onto the street. They had a silly little initiation thing where they decided whether or not you were worth getting to know, thus letting you join their small gang of sorts. I had known Harlen for longer, as he managed to hook me up with my house.

They had varying views on whether or not I should have accepted Candice's offer to move. I felt as though they almost no longer viewed me as one of their friends, as I no longer lived on the street. It had been a thought which ate at my brain, but I hadn't the time to truly consider it.

Quan lowered his head again and rested his free hand back onto the ground.

My friends just watched in silence with perplexed looks on their faces.

"I didn't think that this was a valued method that the police force used," Harlen commented, but nobody paid him any mind.

There were no birds tweeting, or wind blowing. The street was still and dead. It had always felt like the street had its own little bubble, its own plane of existence where nothing could come in or out without undergoing some sort of test. And I had ruined that. At least it was for the greater good, for the sake of justice.

Quan coughed and brushed his hands on his trousers before standing up. "Right, so he didn't actually see anything."

"Wonderful!" Harlen exclaimed sarcastically and clapped his hands. "Top detective work everybody."

"He was killed in his house; he wasn't killed out here."

"But the marks on his body," Aubrey started. "They were-"

"Caused after his death. He didn't know anything about it. He didn't experience the pain of being ran over," Quan continued. "Did you look at his house?"

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