Chapter 4
Later on at the Cincinnati police department, Dean was in the interrogation room waiting to be asked questiong about Stacy. He was standing near a window arms crossed over his chest, looking out onto the world. A sound of a door opening made him turn around. Detective Calaway walked into the room, 2 sacks of food and a couple of sodas in his hands. He pushed the door closed with his foot.
"Thought you might be hungry," Detective Calaway explained sitting the food and beverages on the table. Dean looked at the food then back up at the detective.
"I thought I came here to be questioned," he said irritated. "Not to be fed."
"You are here to be questioned. But I thought you would want to eat first."
Dean ran a hand down his face, sighing heavily. His red puffy eyes met Detective Calaway once more.
"I'm sorry, detective. I apologize for being short with you. It was uncalled for."
Detective Calaway shook his head. "No need to apologize, Dean. Tonight has come as quite a shock for you. Now, why don't you take off your coat, and sit a while, huh? Come on."
Dean walked over to the table as he removed his jacket. He placed the coat on the back of his chair before taking his seat. Detective Calaway removed the hamburgers and fries from the sacks and passed one of each over to Dean before sitting down across the table from him.
"How much do I owe you for the meal?" Dean asked as he opened a can of pop.
"Not a thing, Dean." Detective Calaway answered matter-of-factly.
"Come on."
"Nope."
Dean removed the wrapper from his hamburger. "Well...thank you."
"It was my pleasure."
Detective Calaway brought his burger to his mouth ready to take a bite. Before that, he pulled the burger back, lifted the top bun, and groaned inwardly. Dean cocked his head slightly to the left in confusion mid-chew of his own burger.
"Pickles. I hate pickles. I never was a pickle fan, nor a cucumber fan."
"Hmm. Really?"
"Not really." Detective Calaway removed the pickles from his burger before placing on the wrapper, crumbling it into a ball, and tossing it in the trash backwards. He smirked after he heard it land inside the trash can.
"Whoa. Nice shot."
"I used to play basketball at a younger age."
"I believe it." Dean commented putting a few fries in his mouth.
Detective Calaway took a bite out of his burger, then closed his eyes at the taste of Heaven on a bun. "Mmm mmm mmm. I tell ya, Dean. When it comes to burgers, it doesn't get any better than Red Robin."
"Yum."
Their eyes met. "Red Robin." Detective Calaway sang.
"Yum." Dean sang concluding the familiar jingle.
Detective Calaway and Dean sat eating their food and drinking their sodas. Their conversations were light purposefully straying away from that nights events. They talked about sports, hobbies, anything but the dreadful murder of Stacy Marie Hopkins. Detective Calaway did his best to keep the conversations light. He tried to keep Dean as comfortable as possible. For now, it seemed to be working. After their meal was devoured, Detective Calaway tossed the garbage into the trash.
"So what made you want to be a cop?"
"I always played cops and robbers as a kid. We made our own badges, had our own make-believe jail cell. Monkey bars." That got a smile out of Dean. "As I grew up, cops became an obsession. Not the cop part, but wanting to help people. Wanting to make a difference in the world."
"How long have you been a cop?"
"Since I was in my late 20's. I was a Texas Ranger at one point."
"You're normally from Texas?"
"Yep. Born and raised. I got a job offer to come here. Moved my family up here last year. Now, here I am; part of the Cincinnati PD."
"Interesting."
Detective Calaway smirked. A light knocked interrupted the conversation. The detective walked to the door and opened it inward. His partner Detective Glen Jacobs whispered something into his partners ears. He nodded before walking back towards the table.
"Dean, this is Detective Glen Jacobs. He's my partner."
"Hello, detective."
"Hello, Dean. Sorry about your loss."
"Thank you."
"Dean, your brother is here." Detective Calaway stated.
Before coming into the interrogation room, they allowed him one phone call. He dialed up the only family member he had left; his brother. Detective Jacobs motioned out the door for the brother to step into the room. When he came into the doorway, Dean rose to his feet rapidly, accidently knocking the chair to the floor. Jon Moxley Ambrose, Dean's twin brother, stepped into the room, worry visible on his face. He went and stood in front of Dean.
"Dean..." Jon began to say. "What happened?"
"She's gone, Jon." Dean said grasping his brother's shoulders.
"What? Who?"
"STACY! She's...she's...she's DEAD!"
"WHAT?!"
"She's been...she's been..."
Dean couldn't even finish his statement. He broke down sobbing loudly. Jon held his brother close in his arms letting him cry. Jon couldn't say anything. He was silent, tears falling from his own eyes. The two detectives eyed each other nodding simultaneously. They knew what they had to do. They had to catch the one responsible for the heinous act. They had to catch the killer. And they would not stop until they did.
