Sotto copertura
Chapter Ten: Rivelare (Revelations Of A Misunderstood Suspect)
By LoveAnimeForever
"Mac?"
"No, Sheldon. Mac and Stella will be back soon, though… I – we – heard what happened; you two alright?"
"…Better than we were last night. Listen, can we come in?"
"What, to the labs? You know Mac won't like that."
"We won't make a convincing argument even in person, y'think he'll listen to us over the phone?"
"Point taken… What argument?"
"It's about the case. Don't want the others getting harassed when-"
"It's too late for that, man. Where do you think Mac and Stella went?"
"Damn."
"You still want in?"
"Yeah. Do we get in?"
"That depends." A change in the voice, a little less smooth but equally friendly. "How are you and Flack feeling right now?"
"Better, like I said."
"Than last night? That's not very convincing."
"Come on, Mac."
Vaguely, in the background, "They do need some closure, Mac."
"Stella?"
"Yeah. Alright, get over here, then. But one sign of-"
"Got it. Thanks, Mac. See you in ten."
Danny hooked the phone onto its cradle on the kitchenette counter just as Don emerged from the shower. The man, topless with his shirt and blazer folded across his arm, padded up behind him.
"What did Mac say?"
"We're clear."
"Brilliant. Hope they didn't traumatize Yamamoto and Kawasaki or White yet."
"Unfortunately…"
Don shook his head, shrugged on his shirt. It was an… interesting… habit of his, that Danny had learned to live with – though he brought all his clothes into the bathroom when he showered, he rarely ever dressed completely before emerging, preferring to put on his top only once out of the enclosed space. Danny had showered earlier, before his partner, and so both of them were ready to leave the house within the minute.
…Outwardly, at least, as they acknowledged on the way to the labs. Inside… Well, there were other things to worry about.
"Welcome home." Lindsay, with a tentative smile, as she met them at the lobby.
"Yeah. 's good to be home."
Both men flashed her grins, and they entered a lift together – Lindsay didn't let on that she'd been around them long enough to see through them all too easily.
Upstairs, in the familiar surroundings of the meeting room; only Mac of the pair of senior investigators was sitting at the head of the table, waiting for them. Both resident pathologists were also present, however, and comforting smiles – even from the head of the lab – immediately greeted the undercover agents. The reply came in bright we-don't-need-it grins, like those in the lift lobby, and that was that.
"…So, where's Stella?"
"We'll get to that in a moment. Here" – he passed an envelope of documents across the table – "are some… details… regarding Yamamoto and Kawasaki's pasts."
Danny accepted it, frowning. "Déjà vu, much?"
"It was supposed to be good news," Sid offered.
Envelope opened, papers pulled out, spread across the table. A moment, as the undercover agents took in the information that had been in headquarters for the past day.
Don pressed his fingers against his temple. "…Bloody hell, Mac. This was supposed to be good news?"
"No," Lindsay cut in, "the good news is that that has nothing to do with the case."
Visible relief, just like during the meeting Hays and McLean had been cleared; then frowns, as they remembered the ultimate result-
"There's more good news, though." Sheldon, absently, who – like Lindsay – had not actually seen the documents and was currently giving them a once over.
"Oh, wow, we can't wait."
Mac shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips.. "If you don't want to watch Stella interrogate Herring, that's your call. Or where did you think she was?"
"Herring." It was something of a growl, as the Tanglewood boy in Danny raised his hackles. "Just who we wanted to talk to you about."
The animosity in Don's face was only that slight bit milder. "When did you get him in?"
"Barely got him in the interrogation room before you arrived."
"And it's quite obvious to see he's safer in there. Well. There are… bodies… to be processed, so if you'll excuse us."
Sid clicked his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and got up, casting something of an apologetic glance at his undercover colleagues, headed for the door. Sheldon left a few moments after, clapping what he hoped was a reassuring hand on each detective's shoulder.
"Trace for me. Don't kill anyone, boys." With that, Lindsay disappeared as well.
"And I need to look through the preliminary reports, so-"
"We'll show ourselves to the observation room, got it." Don, unable to help the smile at the sense of normalcy that had somehow been restored, despite circumstances.
Danny followed his partner out, though he paused a moment at the door. "Thanks, Mac."
"What for?"
"For not asking."
Silence.
We know each other well enough, anyway.
Mac didn't even look up as the two grateful detectives headed for the observation room, bravados intact.
A bare few minutes ago, Stella had just gotten their handcuffed suspect into the chair opposite her, across the simple wooden desk in the interrogation room. She couldn't see through the two-way mirror beside her, but she liked to trust her maternal instincts when they said her expected audience had arrived. She'd kept Herring waiting on edge long enough, anyway.
She was almost accurate. Don and Danny entered the observation room just past the pleasantries of I think you know why you're here, Herring?, enough to hear his acidic reply.
"-wondering when you'd come after me. You ridiculous policemen always think those faggots are the ones being discriminated against, and just because I look like this-" Herring bared his teeth and the female detective and leant back in his chair, daring her to reply.
Stella merely smiled – just unaffected enough to be menacing. "And here we arranged this to offend your sensibilities the least. If you'd rather a male officer…?"
"Fuck off, bitch."
"My colleague was right; your mouth is foul." She leant forward to make up for the space Herring had put between them by leaning back. "Now, why don't you tell us why?"
Already red with anger, the fierce blush on the man's face deepened now with something else and he seemed to retract behind a shell the detectives would never have expected him to have.
"…Herring?" Suddenly cautious, because when suspects reacted like this, they either had something really big to hide, or they had a – usually violent – escape plan.
Outside, Danny barely refrained from slamming a fist on the glass he and his partner were standing before. "Don't play coy, you bastard-"
A calming hand on his shoulder, but the accompanying voice was strained. "Danny."
"Come on, Don. You wanna beat this guy up as much as I do."
"We will." A half-grin. "But you know Stella's about the best with the mind games."
"Women."
"Bonasera, was it?"
Affirmative nod. "Detective Bonasera, if you don't mind."
Herring shrugged. "I hope I'm not your only suspect, Detective, because this is going to seriously ruin your investigation."
"I'll take that chance."
Deep breath; slow exhale.
"Bloody- I can't believe I'm telling this to a police officer. I suppose you have all my files." He didn't wait for a reply, or even a gesture, just continued as if he needed the momentum to even continue. "It says I'm a businessman, don't it? And the whole reason you came down to ransack my place was because I'm not. Well, I am. Was."
"We knew that much."
"Shut up if you wanna hear it," Herring spat, though more out of self-defense – why though? – than in anger.
"Alright, easy there…"
"Used to love the faggots, like you people, too. Until my boss at the office showed me how much of an ass they can be. No pun intended."
"Does it look like we're laughing?" Danny glared through the glass, almost disappointed his target couldn't see it.
Don rolled his eyes and leant his back against the glass. Enough of whatever story the man was concocting. Enough with whatever excuse, enough with whatever alibi. There was no way this man wasn't their culprit.
…And yet…?
"Oi, Herring. Boss wants you in his office, a-sap. Can't believe you actually got something wrong."
"I'm not infallible, Jones."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Goody-two-shoes Christian that you are, I doubt it. Don't you ever let loose, man?"
"I am letting loose. The Lord is all the freedom that I need."
"Ah shit, don't give me that. Listen, the rest of the office is going out for a beer tonight, so if you feel like breaking any of those vows just drop by the usual place, yeah?"
"Keep wishing, Jones. But thanks anyway."
Herring, a little burly to be completely comfortable in his work suit, pushed away from his desk to head for his boss' office. It was spacious, compared to the cubicles he and his fellow workers slogged away in, and the pay this job got him wasn't all that substantial, but he'd be happy with what God gave him and where God put him. Already, some of his less stubborn colleagues had noticed the testimony that was his life, how he never lost his temper, how he never slacked off, never drank, and still kept up such a wonderful family life.
And he was happy. Perhaps that was what piqued their interest most of all – not many people were happy in the rat race, yet Herring was. Because his eyes were set on something else. Eternity. Some of his colleagues had wanted to taste that peace, that joy, and he'd brought some furtive faces to church a few times… All was well in the Lord's plan, that was what Herring believed in. With all his heart.
Now then, what did the boss want?
"Herring. I heard Jones asking you out for a beer tonight?"
"Yes, he did, Mr Young. Not that I accepted, but don't be too hard on them either. They need the chance to unwind, after all."
"Indeed they do… Now, then, enough with the formalities. All that Mr Young nonsense. I made it quite clear you can call me by my first name, didn't I?"
"Well- Yes, G-regory. I only find it… A little inappropriate for the workplace. I don't even call Jones by his first name, after all, and he's just about my best friend here. …No offense."
"None taken, Frank. Wouldn't want to tarnish that reputation you have going there."
"It's not a reputation, si- Gregory. But you don't appreciate my preaching, do you?"
"Mm, no, I don't, not really. In fact, the reason I asked you in here is quite… contrary… to your 'preaching'…"
Young rounded his desk – a large, rather grand looking affair, suitable for the manager of the whole floor – to stand before his subordinate. Said subordinate took a step back accordingly, preserving the space between them. A little like an animal about to flee, but then Young had always figured a man with such a perfect track record couldn't be… normal…
"What do you say to a beer with me, Frank?"
"…No, thank you, sir." Clear discomfort. "If that's all, I should get back to work…"
The man was shy. How cute. A little pushing was in order, then. "This is work, Frank. Now then, a beer, with me? My treat, and I promise it won't take long."
"No, thank you." Firmer now.
Young frowned. He was handsome by most standards, even a man's – on the feminine side, perhaps, with his lean-lithe build and non-standard-issue brown hair long just to his starched collar. And here he'd thought this would be an easy catch; while pleasant-looking and enough to catch his attention, Herring wasn't exactly model material, after all. He should've been glad someone so above his standard had given him the attention…
"I hate to resort to dirty tactics, Frank, but really, you're my type of guy, so."
"I don't understand-"
A devilish smile. "Sure you do."
Confident saunter, until he'd backed his prey into the wall. Herring, for all his bulk, didn't – or wouldn't, as Young thought – fight back, instead allowing himself to be cornered. Shared breathing space.
…When faced with such situations, there was only one thing to do, wasn't there? So Herring prayed. He shut his surprisingly intimidating boss out, and called out to his Saviour for a way out of this situation, and for a chance yet to rescue this lost soul. For mercy, and-
When Young pressed his lips to Herring's – an attempt to be gentle, no doubt, though it didn't work – the man swore in the first time since forever.
Herring shoved his boss aside, and the snarl that escaped his lips he simply couldn't control. "What the hell, man?"
Young stumbled backward, disoriented, but easily regained his footing, both physically and mentally. "It's either this or your job, Frank. Come now, it's an easy decision-"
Forgive me, Lord, my trespasses against You, as I hope I will eventually forgive this man's against me.
And Frank Herring punched his boss square in the face, stalked out of the office.
"…I never went back there. I hope the bastard's dead."
Stella blinked, still digesting the account Herring had just shared with her. "…And that's why…?"
"Yeah. I let God down, huh. But back then I figured, if I stopped being so 'good', the kind of thing wouldn't happen again. And before I knew it…"
"You should've reported it. A harassment case."
"It was my way of 'forgiving' him, but I guess it was only superficial."
"…I'm sorry we judged you, Mr Herring."
"Oh, please. You start respecting me after the sob story? Just plain Herring is fine."
"Herring, then."
"Thank you. I hope you believe me now when I say I had nothing to do with the murders."
"…That'll come after I've reported to my boss. But I believe you… Sob stories aren't so easy to cook up, after all." Stella offered him a smile.
Surprisingly, Herring returned it. "And once again, I can't believe I just told all that to a police officer."
Stella found herself unlocking the handcuffs around his wrists before she could reason her sympathy away.
"…Thank you."
"Don't thank me."
A somewhat-Catholic detective, and a spiritually-recovering Christian murder suspect. They shared an understanding glance, and Stella nodded to him before exiting the room. Herring sighed, not so much of resignation as relief, and relaxed ever-so-slightly into his chair, gaze turned upward, toward something – Someone – far past the gray ceiling.
"…I can't. What just happened in there?"
Stella closed the door behind her before Danny's disbelieving remark could reach Herring's ears.
She smiled ruefully at the two undercover detectives. "Hey. You still think he's our guy?"
Don shook his head, equally incredulous. "Come on, Stel. He could easily be lying."
"Easily?"
"…Just lying, then."
Raised eyebrow, pointed look. At both of them.
"But if he's not our guy – and you haven't got Mac down here yet, so don't give us that look, Stella – then who is?"
"You tell me, Danny, you tell me."
"You've ruled out everyone we've suggested and everyone we've not, Stel. What are we supposed to do, pull a white rabbit out of some hat?"
"…Not a rabbit, maybe, but…"
"Haha, Danny. The guy's harmless."
"Have you forgotten all the cases, where-"
"No need for the patronizing tone, Messer. He's your boyfriend, after all. Now, come on, let's leave him in peace for a while. Mac'll want a report."
In the last glance she cast toward the suspect she'd connected with scarily well during the interview, Stella forgot to notice that neither male detective protested against her teasing that afternoon.
Author's Notes:
Oh dear, I missed another few weeks again. Dreadfully sorry there, and thanks to all who reviewed but to whom I haven't the time to reply. In case you're wondering, I was in Japan. Eheh. Right, that's no excuse, and it's actually Friday where I am now, but let's all be nice and pretend this was a nice and regular Thursday update, yeah? Hopefully it will be regular again, now that I've finally got around to posting. Merry Christmas and hopefully I'll have another chapter up to wish everyone a Happy New Year~
