Dallas Griffin leaned back in his chair and rolled his shoulders, trying to release the built up tension in them. Glancing at the clock, he realized that he had been hunched over his desk for well over two hours. Damn paperwork.
He was filing details of a breaking and entering case he had worked on, and was only half way through the paperwork that he needed to finish. His shift had ended over twenty minutes ago, but he wanted to wrap up his formalities before heading home.
Scrubbing a hand across his weary face, Dallas thought back to the investigation surrounding Ethan Snyder. Remembering the risks he had taken to secure Noah the urine sample needed for drug testing, his stomach knotted until it was almost painful.
He had lied to Noah; it was highly unlikely that he would just receive a metaphorical slap on the wrist for stealing evidence. Not only had he not followed proper protocol, but he had given important evidence to a civilian. Dallas had no idea what the punishment for his actions would be when Constable Harrington – the lead investigator of the case – found out, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be pleasant.
Sighing, Dallas stood up and tucked his papers into files, figuring that he wasn't going to get anymore work done with the state he was in. As if on cue, his office phone began ringing, breaking the silence of the office. Cursing to himself, Dallas dropped the papers he was holding back onto the desk before reaching over and grabbing the phone.
"Hello?" he said, intentionally softening his voice so it wouldn't betray how tense he was.
"Mr. Griffin? This is Anna." a feminine voice said. It took Dallas a moment to remember that she was the receptionist at the station. When he did remember, he almost blushed in embarrassment; this case must really be getting to me if I can't remember the name of the receptionist who's been working here for four months.
"Mr. Griffin?" Anna asked again, her business-like tone slipping. "Are you there?"
"Hmm? Yes, I'm here. What do you need?" Dallas asked, not really focusing on the conversation as he picked up the papers lying on his desk.
"A Kevin Davis has been asking to talk to you. He's been rather insistent, actually." Anna explained, unaware that her words caused Dallas to drop his papers, yet again, in shock.
"Kevin Davis?" Dallas asked, "you mean the Kevin from the Snyder case? Wasn't he released on bail, again?"
"That would be the same Kevin." Anna commented, "and yes, his parents were willing to pay bail, but the judge refused to set it. She said that he had proven to be mentally unstable since he went straight to the Snyder's after he was released from jail last time. He's staying here until his trial."
Although Anna helped explain away a lot of Dallas's confusion, he was still reeling with questions, one of which he vocalized. "Has he mentioned why he wants to talk to me?"
"He just said it had to do with 'the investigation.'" Anna replied, her tone giving Dallas the mental image of air quotes. "He sounded kind of panicked, according to the officer who took the message. Are you going to go see him?" Anna's last question held more personal curiosity than professionalism, but Dallas answered her anyways.
"I'm heading down there right now; thank you, Anna." Before she could respond, Dallas hung up the phone and haphazardly organized his desk to give it some semblance of looking tidy. Locking the door to his office, Dallas headed to the cell where Kevin was being held, wondering what Kevin had to say, and why Kevin would choose to contact him, of all people.
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~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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"Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit." Dallas paced in his office before throwing himself into his chair, his phone glued to his ear. "Noah, pick up, come on!"
Four rings later, and Noah's voice echoed through the receiver; 'you've reached Noah Mayer, and I'm…" Dallas impatiently waited for the beep before he tried to explain what he had learned without out directly saying it – it wasn't the kind of news he wanted to break over the phone. As soon as he finished, Dallas flipped the lid of his cell phone shut, nearly cracking the screen with the force he used.
Leaning forward in his chair, Dallas forced himself to breathe deeply and to think through his situation – not react. Opening his phone, he texted Noah one last time before shutting it and tossing it on his desk.
His head was spinning, but Dallas forced himself to use his cop training to his advantage, focusing his thoughts until his shock was manageable. If Kevin was telling the truth, and if Luke didn't know…. shit.
Dallas was about to dial the Snyder farm and hope to hell that someone he could talk to would pick up when his office door was slammed open. Looking up, Dallas saw Constable Eric Harrington standing in his doorway, and immediately hung up the phone.
"Eric, how can I help you?" Dallas asked, unsure of Harrington's mood. Although Dallas and Eric didn't socialize outside of the station, they both had a mutual friendship due to long hours spent pouring over cases together. However, from the fiery look in Eric's eyes, Dallas doubted that their friendship was going to mean a damn once the truth came out.
"How can you help me?" Eric asked, sarcasm radiating off of him in waves. "No, it's more like how can you fuck up my entire investigation? What the hell are you trying to do, Dallas?"
"What are you talking about?" Dallas asked, regretting his decision to play dumb the moment the words slipped from his lips.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Eric yelled, stalking across the office until he was uncomfortably close to Dallas. Green eyes bored into brown, but Dallas stood firm, refusing to give up his ground.
Undeterred, Eric crossed his arms and slowly asked, "Where did the urine sample go." It wasn't a question, Dallas realized, not really; it was a demand, and Eric knew that Dallas had no choice but to answer truthfully.
"It was sent away for testing." Dallas answered, knowing that Eric would pick up on his lie through omission. What he wasn't expecting was for Eric to slam him against the wall, pinning him to the beige surface with an arm at his throat. "Eric?" Dallas managed to cough out before that bruising, suffocating pressure was back.
"Who did you give the sample to?" Eric demanded, his voice oddly high pitched and his eyes wide. Not with anger or hatred, Dallas realized, but with fear. The sheer terror in Eric's eyes forced Dallas to swallow against his own rising panic. Over his years as a cop, he had learned that there wasn't much that was worse than a man who felt threatened.
Opening his mouth, Dallas tried to answer, but he couldn't suck in enough air to respond. He was faintly aware of his wheezing gasps, but was more focused on the hazy spots dancing behind his eyelids. When did I close my eyes?
The pressure on his throat increased before loosening, just enough so Dallas could draw a breath. He resisted the urge to cough, although he couldn't help his desperate gulps for air. His recovery time was interrupted when Eric shoved him against the wall again as if he were simply a rag doll. Dallas was strong, but he was no match for Eric, that much he knew; the man was both taller and more muscular.
"Tell me now." Eric demanded in a whisper, which was somehow more unnerving than his panicked yelling. "You have five seconds."
"It was sent… to a private lab." Dallas choked out, all too aware of the forearm that could easily crush his throat. "For testing."
"What, what kind of testing?" Eric asked in a rush, his eyes still wide with that all-compassing fear.
"Drugs and alcohol" was all Dallas was able to cough out before his body was ravaged with coughs that he could no longer hold back. The pressure on his throat was suddenly released, and he fell to the floor at the lack of support.
Unable to drag himself off the floor, Dallas looked up and saw the old Eric slowly filtering back into the stranger that had entered his office. His arms were folded tight across his chest, and the gesture looked protective instead of aggressive. He reached a hand towards Dallas as if to help him up, but quickly snatched it back and crossed it against his other arm.
"Oh god, Dallas… I'm sorry. I didn't mean – I've got to go. I'm sorry." Eric turned and headed to the door, glancing back at Dallas before practically bolting.
Dallas slowly stood up, wincing as he brought a hand to his already-bruising and tender throat. He was lucky that the vivid colors wouldn't show against his dark complexion for the time being; he had no intention of reporting Eric to the station. The image of Eric before he had left the office was burned into Dallas's mind – the man had been white as a ghost, his shock and horror at his actions plastered across his face.
The man that had been in his office for the past twenty minutes was not the man that had been working with Dallas on the police force for the past year. Something was driving Eric to the edge of his sanity, that much Dallas knew. But what could cause him to literally go crazy like that?
Eric didn't talk much about his personal life, with the exception of raving about his nine year old daughter. He was a single father, that much Dallas knew, and he spoke of his daughter as if the world revolved around her. Thinking back, Dallas realized that Eric hadn't mentioned his girl (her name started with an 'S' – Sarah, maybe?) in quite some time. Maybe he has family problems, and just lost control.
Even as Dallas nodded his head at his imagined answer, part of him knew that something far more intense was going on than a family feud. Shaking his head and wincing as that pulled at his throat muscles, Dallas grabbed his phone and decided to finally head home.
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~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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Noah watched in fascination as his fingers carded through Luke's dark blonde hair, the strands shimmering in the light. They were lying in bed together with Luke's head on his chest, and Noah couldn't remember the last time he had felt so at peace.
The beginnings of guilt began to creep up within him, but Noah firmly pushed it away. He didn't understand why he was feeling so bad for lying to Luke; after all, he had lied before. Hell, his entire life had been a lie in some ways, before he met Luke. He figured that was why he couldn't lie to his boyfriend – he was the one person that Noah owed honesty to.
"Noah?" Luke murmured drowsily, shaking Noah out of his thoughts. Luke tilted his head back to look into Noah's eyes, and Noah found himself captivated by the deep brown eyes that were locked onto his own.
"Yes?" Noah whispered back, not wanting to break the peace that surrounded them like a bubble.
"Is it… is it bad that right now, with you, I'm happy?" Luke asked, his insecurities about trusting himself welling up. "I mean, with, you know… I just wanted to know if you thought that, that…"
"That you're a bad person for feeling good?" Noah asked softly, the recognition in Luke's eyes more clear than a nod could've been. "No, you're not a bad person, Luke." Noah whispered, continuing his patterns in Luke's hair. "You're just being human."
Luke didn't choose to answer, lifting his head up for a soft, slow kiss instead. The kiss was so tender, so slow and full of love that Noah felt something in his heart shift, as if the moment were branding itself there.
They laid there for another half an hour, exchanging gentle kisses and soft stories, before Luke reluctantly got up to check on his family. Noah had insisted that he didn't need to, but ever since the accident, Luke had maintained that he had to go check on his sisters and parents. Noah figured it was some reflex to keep his family close, but it still broke his heart to see his boyfriend deliberately put himself in a situation where he had to act strong for his family, even when he was feeling the furthest thing from it.
After Luke left the room, Noah flopped back on the bed before he realized that he couldn't remember the last time he had looked at his phone. The last time he remembered having it was when he was with Tony and Luke in Old Towne, almost four days ago; it was probably still in his jacket pocket.
Opening Luke's ridiculously large closet and smirking at the even more ridiculous amount of striped shirts he saw, Noah checked the hangers for the jacket that he had meticulously hung up after his ice cream trip. Finding the gray jacket, Noah sifted through the pockets until his hand closed around the small phone.
Noah realized that his phone must've turned itself off during its hibernation in Luke's closet; after all, how else could the battery have lasted so long? Turning on the phone, Noah's suspicions were confirmed when he saw that the battery was only half dead.
Almost immediately, his phone began to buzz as he received text after text, voicemail after voicemail. When the buzzing finally stopped, Noah sifted through his twenty-four texts and seven voicemails.
The texts were mainly about mundane stuff; a missed test here, an offer to hang out there. He stumbled across a few from Dallas, asking Noah to call him when he received the text. Wondering what could be so important, Noah decided to check his voicemail, and then call Dallas.
The first voicemail was from Dallas, asking for Noah to call. The second and third were from friends from school, and the fourth was from Jeff, who was wondering what shift's Noah wanted for the next week at Java. The fifth and sixth messages were from Dallas, and were sent two days ago, according to his phone. The seventh message had been sent just over an hour ago, and sounded like a full out panic attack.
"Noah? It's Dallas Griffin calling. I need you to call me when you get this please. Thanks!""Noah? It's Dallas again. Sorry to bother you, but can you give me a call or stop by the station when you receive this? I have something I need to tell you about the investigation."Noah? It's me, Dallas. Look, I need you to come down to the station, right away. It's about Kevin – he remembers something from the day of the accident. He says that he believes he can identify who drugged him, if that's what happened. And my guts telling me that he's being honest, and that he was set up in all of this. But Noah… shit Noah, you aren't going to like what he has to say. That son of a bitch! So please come down to the station as soon as you can. Thanks."
Noah stood in shock for a brief moment before searching through his texts again, looking for a hint as to what Dallas was talking about. Throwing his open phone on the bed, Noah realized that the only way he was going to find out was to go talk to Dallas. Scribbling a brief note to Luke – he didn't want to have to lie to him face-to-face – Noah bolted out of the room and headed for his truck.
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~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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Halfway to the station, Noah slammed on the brakes so hard that he nearly gave himself whiplash. Shit! Frantically feeling his pockets, he realized that he had left his phone unlocked and open on Luke's bed. Normally, he wouldn't care less, but with his phone open to a text that Dallas had sent about the investigation, Noah knew his boyfriend would be able to piece together the situation.
'I have to get home first,' was the only thing running through Noah's mind as he pulled an illegal 'U' turn and sped to the Snyder farm, making it there in record time. Sprinting up to the bedroom, he opened the door to find Luke picking up his phone.
"Luke!" Noah yelled, causing the blonde to jump.
"Noah!" Luke mock yelled, a grin spreading across his face. Oh thank god, he hasn't seen it. "What are you doing back so soon? You wrote that you had a shift at Java to work." Luke commented, nodding towards the note that Noah had left him.
"I did, but I forgot my phone." Noah rushed out, still puffing from his sprint.
"Oh, here it is!" Luke smiled, about to pass the phone to Noah when he accidentally hit the volume button on the side, causing the screen to light up. "Hey…" Luke murmured as a word on the screen caught his eye. "Noah, why are you texting Dallas Griffin?"
The moment Luke asked the question, Noah felt all of the color drain out of his face. "Noah?" Luke asked, his voice incredibly insecure as his eyes fell on the text message. "What's going on?"