Atticus' POV:
I want to kill my boss, so I keep repeating Lincoln's familiar reassurances that killing people won't solve problems in order to keep myself calm.
But, oh my god!
This bastard really sent a search warrant for Silas?!
Why would Silas blow up his home after we dismissed him?!
Answer: HE WOULDN'T!
But did asshole Darrel wait for Jared and I before sending out that message to the fucking news?
Of course he didn't!
He was so quick to blame Silas, who has been at mine and Lincoln's house all night, but of course I couldn't tell him that.
Darrel would not have listened and he would then know exactly where Silas was, and I know for a fact that Silas would want to run and that Lincoln would attempt to protect him, so both of them would be in danger.
I will not let that happen, so I stayed quiet when I saw the news and was given the details at work.
"Isn't he at your place?" Jared asked me when we got to our shared car to go patrol. "Silas?"
Jared is one of my best friends, and I know I can trust him with anything.
"Silas didn't do anything," I tell him, and Jared nods. "I guarantee the person who tried to kill him did that and of course because Silas is an easy choice, Darrel pins everything on him so the killer can go and cross off more people with the malfunction."
"Thank god you heeded my warning to keep the fact that he's staying with you under wraps," Jared says, patting his own back like he's some kind of god.
"Heeded?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "Are we in the nineteen hundreds?"
Jared shrugs. "I was right, wasn't I?"
"Yeah, congrats badass, you made one good suggestion in your nine years of working for this place," I tell him, rolling my eyes. "So what do we do? Darrel has the entire city looking for Silas, so I know for a fact that he isn't going to look for the actual culprit."
"Yeah, you're right... we're going to have to find our own way to get the actual culprit," Jared says, pulling out his computer and clicking the keys while I drive. "I still have my connection at the Hillsboro database."
I roll my eyes. "Jared, the girl who you fucked and then both cried to each other after because you both realized you were gay does not count as a connection."
"She helps me out, doesn't she?" Jared asks as I pull onto Highway 26 toward the city of Hillsboro. "And she doesn't hate the Mistacesemia people."
"That's always a plus," I say in agreement as we head down the highway.
The database building is manned by Jared's coming out buddy, Aviana. She got the job when she was eighteen and has been there for the last eight years, filing everything that has to do with the police stations in the four most populated counties, as well as its own section that keeps files on all of the people with Mistacesemia. There are times, like in the case of the boy who was murdered, where Lincoln has to send a copy of his report to the database.
We walk into the building and the security guards make us go through their scanner and check us, but before they have a chance to make us turn over our weapons, Aviana shows up.
"What are you doing here?" she asks Jared, walking up to us and hugging him. "Don't worry about them, Rich, they're with me. They work at the Mistacesemia unit out in Portland."
The security guy, Rich, nods to her and turns back toward the front doors, which are the only way in and out.
"Aviana, this is my partner, Atticus," Jared introduces me, and Aviana looks between us.
"Like, partner. Or partner?"
I chuckle at her emphasis. "We were fuck buddies for a while and then I moved on to my current boyfriend," I tell her as we follow the woman down the long hallway to a room full of filing cabinets.
"I assume you're here concerning Silas Murray," she says, guiding us toward a drawer. "Now, I don't know of his current location, as he may have gone back to his hometown in Montana, but-"
Jared cuts her off. "No, we are not here to find info on Silas," he corrects. "We know where he is, and we also know he is being framed and blamed for something he didn't do. However, our boss is a prick and if we let on that we know Silas' location, he'll be incarcerated for something he didn't do."
Aviana looks between us, slowly closing the drawer. "How can I help you today, then?" she asks, leaning against a filing cabinet.
"We need a list of all of the individuals with Mistacesemia born in 2003," I tell her, and she guides us to a table, returning a few minutes later with a file.
"Here it is," Aviana tells us, sliding the file over. "I need to correct the file of Phillip Moore. I received a file from the specialist in Portland this morning."
So, Lincoln already sent it, it would appear.
I read down the list, Aviana making a copy for me so I can highlight the names of those born in the United States. Only two people are listed as currently living in Portland, and those names are Silas Murray and Phillip Moore.
"What makes you think the killer was born in 2003?"Aviana asks us as we read through the 2003 list of names.
Jared leans back in his chair. "You've told me that there's fifty people with Mistacesemia living in the Portland Metro area, because a lot move here. Yet, we have only found history of a few of them born in 2003 being killed within the last month," he explains, closing one of the files. "It doesn't make any sense."
"Maybe the person was just born in 2003?" Aviana asks. "I don't know how these files are going to help you find a killer."
"Because the killer is one of them," I tell her, and I can tell she's shocked by that news. "Someone with first hand experience told me."
Aviana purses her lips. "Well, you can study up later. I have to report all visitors if they're here for longer than a pick up, so get out of here before I have to report you both," she says, because our record will get sent to Darrel since he's responsible for his workers. "Go."
Jared and I end up at a Starbucks and go through our files for the rest of the day, thankful that no more attacks have been reported. I'm just happy because that also means that they haven't found Silas yet.
"We don't know where this person could be from," Jared groans. "Someone on the East Coast got killed and I bet everything that it was the same killer, since it had the same message. So we basically will have to interview everyone and whoever doesn't show up is our killer."
I'm so tired of this investigation already. "We can't do much because we need Darrel's permission and he won't give it because he wants Silas behind bars. For nothing," I groan, taking another sip of my tea.
It gets late in the afternoon, and since we have nothing going on for the rest of the day, Jared and I go back to the station to get our cars and decide to head home. The night shift team can handle it, since there isn't much going on beside our investigation, and their only task will be to find Silas.
Good luck to them, because I'm not clueing them into where he is!
When I get home, I hear the end credit sequence for How To Train Your Dragon 3 blaring from the indoor theatre. I walk into the room and find Lincoln laying on the couch, asleep, with Silas on top of him, his head settled on Lincoln's chest.
God, these two are adorable and they will probably be the death of me.
Wait, no.
Silas is attractive yes, but more in a friend kind of way. Like, let's fuck and then send him to sleep in his room, because a three way relationship... that just wouldn't work.
Whatever, they still look cute curled up together.
I grab my phone from my pocket and take a picture of them, cursing when I realize that I'm a dumbass who left my ringer and the flash on my phone because it's dark in the room.
Silas' eyes open and he seems like he's about to panic.
Of course he would; he's still scared of me for some reason.
"I move in my sleep!" he exclaims, accidentally kicking Lincoln when he tries to get away.
Oh, shit.
He kicked Lincoln right in the balls.
Lincoln groaned when he was kick, and now he's awake, cupping his junk. "Which one of you fucking cunts did that?!" he asks, groaning in pain. "I'm going to kill you bitches!"
"He woke me up and I was scared he was going to kill me!" Silas exclaims, squirming away from us. "I totally kicked you! I'm sorry!"
Lincoln winces and gets up, waddling toward the kitchen. "I need a goddamn ice pack and Advil," he moans, and I'm not surprised because he's not very good with pain.
I can count the number of times on one finger that I was allowed to bite him during sex.
It was the first night he gave me blue balls because he was so pissed that I bit him because the only pain he'll allow is the penetration kind because that brings pleasure as well.
"He was in a good mood before you came home," Silas says, but I can hear his joking undertone.
I reach over and ruffle his hair, making him jump before he relaxes and doesn't act like I'm going to snap his neck. "You mean before you kicked his nuts?"
"Oh well, so he can't have kids. Shouldn't be a problem for a gay guy, anyway. You can be the donor."
"You're a dork," I tell him, and the pair of us walk to the kitchen and begin to make dinner while Lincoln sits on the floor and ices his groin with an ice pack.
As I cook (with some help from Silas) I explain how I spent my day and what Jared and I tried to do in terms of finding our real killer.
"So... you're not kicking me out and no one knows where I am?" Silas asks, and I can sense how wary he is.
"No, of course not!" Lincoln exclaims. "Right, Atticus?"
I shake my head. "It never crossed my mind," I tell him, because his anxiety is radiating through the room. "Don't worry, Silas, you're safe here."
"Yeah, and I hope you're having a pleasurable experience," Lincoln says, looking right at Silas and I watch Silas blush and cover his face.
"Did something happened?" I ask, surprised that I'm not even upset by the thought that Lincoln and Silas may have slept together.
Lincoln shakes his head. "No, not between us," he says, and I know Lincoln does not lie, so I have no concerns, but I'm still confused by his statement toward Silas, because he's too smart for it not to have a double meaning.
"Let's just eat dinner please," Silas mumbles, using his powers to open the cabinets to carry plates toward the table.
Lincoln's focus immediately shifts to asking a million questions, and with one look at Silas' face, I know he's only doing it to distract Lincoln from teasing him.
•••
Book cover done by Ishanwadhwa123