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27 January 2008 @ 11:38 am
What Goes Around  
*gasp* Can you say new chapter?

The boy sat quietly, wrapped tightly in a crouch and Zak realized her had little of hope of getting him to talk. He thought for a moment, trying to decide which questions would be appropriate. “What’s your name?” he finally asked. It was a pathetic attempt, but the topic would arise anyway. He received a blank stare but he asked the question a second time, in case the boy hadn’t heard him.

“Should we move on?” he asked after a few minutes of silence. “Though, I can’t very well write ‘Kid’ on my report.” He sighed heavily. “This is a waste of my time, isn’t it. You aren’t going to say a damn thing.”

“I don’t know…” the boy finally said, curling tighter. “I don’t know my name.”

Zak raised an eyebrow. “Amnesia?”

The boy nodded. “Hara takes care of me…”

“But you remember Miko?”

He looked surprised. There was a long pause before he answered with a hesitant “Yes.”

Zak leaned back in his chair, grinning. “See? This isn’t so hard.” He opened his notepad and watched the boy expectantly. “Why not start by telling me physical characteristics.”

The boy suddenly looked uncomfortable, which struck Zak as odd, but he pressed the issue relentlessly, asking for details Hara hadn’t supplied. There was nothing new he could share, however, and Zak was left where he had started- clueless with a child he knew nothing about.

An hour later and he had yet to get any straight answers so the detective snapped his notebook shut. “Look,” he said. “Someone knows why your friend disappeared. Now, if he’s locked up, waiting to be rescued, the best thing to do is help.” He frowned. “And if the kid simply ran off to start a new life, I need to know so I can contact him and make sure he’s all right.”

“He didn’t run off,” the boy murmured. “Miko could never leave Hara.” He looked at Zak. “Hara takes care of Miko.”

It was difficult to tell who he was defending, so Zak didn’t reply. The outburst was unexpected; the boy’s voice raised slightly above the quiet whisper he had used thus far. “Do you know what happened?” he finally asked, leaning forward with interest. The boy was finished, however, and he retreated back into the curled position as if he had never spoken at all. Zak sighed heavily. “All right. I guess you’re free to go if Miss Saon is ready to take you home.”

- -

Azrael joined him as he poured over his notes. “Does our mystery kid have a name yet?” he asked, setting a soda can on the desk.

Zak shook his head. “No, and I’m not any closer to finding Miko Contelli either.” He dropped his pen and put his head in hands. “These are getting me nowhere. The kid could be dead by now and no one will ever know.”

Azrael smacked the back of his head. “Stop talking like that,” he scolded. “If there’s anyone who can find him, it’s you. Besides, we don’t know if anything happened.” He waved a hand. “Mr. Contelli is probably in Canada or something, living a life different than what he’s used to.”

“I don’t think so,” Zak replied. “Everything I’ve heard about him so far-”

“From his friend?”

“Yes.” The detective pushed his chair from the desk. “The problem is, I don’t know where to go from here.”

Azrael took the notebook, tore a sheet of paper out, and set it on the desk. “All right. We’re going to make a list of suspects for the investigation so far. Anyone you think is lying, we’ll write down.”

Zak thought for a moment. Everyone he had met could have taken Miko- or worse. The obvious choice, he assumed, was anyone who was jealous of his position. “He isn’t old enough to run the office yet, right?”

“No…” Azrael replied. “I talked to Calista. Miko Contelli is eighteen years old.” He frowned thoughtfully. “He’s in control of their company now.”

Zak nodded. “Which means…” He scribbled a name on the paper and passed it to Azrael.

“You can not be serious.”

“It makes sense,” Zak replied. “There’s definitely motive. But if I’m right about this, we may have less time than I thought.”

His problem wasn’t solved by the end of the day. He had more questions than answers and more suspects than either of them knew what to do with. Still, it had been productive and he was at least closer to finding the victim than the previous day.

“What you need, my friend,” Azrael said with a grin, putting an arm around his shoulder, “is a cold drink. My treat.”

“You’re joking. I have to question these people. I have to find clues!”

Other officers looked up from their desks, but no one was truly surprised. When their comrade was on a case, nothing got in his way. Besides, something far more interesting was happening outside the building.

Through the main doors, a voice carried to them, the sharp tones promising entertainment for the end of a long day. Azrael’s grin widened and Zak looked toward the precinct door. “What are you smiling about?”

“Hell no, I’m not going to stop talking. You wanna use this against me in court? Go ahead and try.” The door burst open a minute later, revealing a young woman. Zak recognized the tight burgundy shirt and the black pants, however. “What is she-”

The woman looked over to their desks and her eyes lit up. She fixed her curly hair best she could in handcuffs and sauntered over to them. “You got to do something.”

“What is it?” Azrael asked as she sat on the case file. “What happened?”

“I been arrested! Some punk ass dude-”

“Officer,” the man trailing behind her interrupted.

She turned. “Some dude,” she faced them again, “throws these cuffs on me, claiming I ain’t go no right to stand on my corner and do my job.” A final turn to the man she was yelling about and she poked him in the chest. “Like you got some right to get in my business like that.”

Azrael grinned. “How dare he,” he said. “I can’t believe they had the nerve.”

The woman turned to him. “I know! But since I'm here...” She leaned closer. “I got information that could help you. For a price, of course.”

“Of course.” Azrael turned to Zak. “Well? You want to hear her out, or should we leave her in a cell for the-”

“Hell no. I gotta get home and take care of my plant. I tell you what I know and I walk out those doors.” She looked at Azrael. "And…"

“I’m sure letting you out will be enough,” Zak interjected, removing the handcuffs.

“And,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken up. “The redhead has to take me to dinner.”

“What about your plant?” Azrael asked, picking up the pen again, ready to write down anything she had to say.

“My plant will understand if I water it a little late tonight.”

“Fair enough.”
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