The nervous tension spreading through the interrogation room was even beginning to wear on Mike.
Dylan sat across from him, completely quiet, his dark brown eyes lowered to the recorder placed on the table, as its tape quietly rolled along. Only the slight tapping of his hands against his thighs told the story of how worked up the young man truly was.
Behind him, Steve paced the room like a caged tiger, his rapid breaths being the only noise in the otherwise still area.
Shuffling through some of the paperwork in the open file laid out in front of him, Mike cleared his throat.
He let his bright blue eyes sink on the troubled young man sitting across from him, hoping to reach the case break they'd been working towards for several days now.
"Dylan, according to the police record, you live in Oakland. What were you doing in town?"
Kneading his hands, the young man continued to stare at the tape recorder.
"I was visiting some friends, that's all."
The sound of a notepad flying through the air and landing hard on the table made everybody flinch.
Mike smiled inwardly.
They had agreed on the good cop- bad cop routine earlier, and in a sense, it seemed that it was working quite well so far. Not to mention the therapeutic value of his partner relieving some pent-up frustration.
"Humor me and write down all of their names, addresses and phone numbers.", Steve growled and came closer. Leaning over the table, his face was only a few inches away from that of Dylan.
"I don't have them.", the young man replied, the fear in his eyes clearly visible.
"Of course, you don't.", Steve breathed angrily.
His partner was definitely enjoying this role play too much, Mike mused.
"So why don't you give it to us straight. I know you are lying through your teeth."
"I don't have to tell you anything, punk cop!", Dylan replied, causing Steve to reach forward and grab the young man by his gray sweatshirt.
"Oh…but you are wrong, kid. A young girl is dead and something tells me you've got blood on your hands."
"Back off, Inspector."
Deciding that it was time to interfere, Mike stood up and grabbed his partner's shoulder, before unceremoniously shoving him against the nearby wall.
"You know he did it, Michael!", Steve argued and marched towards him, only to have Mike point an angry finger at his chest.
"I said back off, Inspector. One more word and you'll be back working for Vice!"
Huffing in frustration, Steve ran a hand across his stiff neck before wordlessly leaning back against the file cabinet. Mike threw him another warning glance, before sitting back down at the table.
Across from him, Dylan had taken in the scene with great interest. After eyeing Steve suspiciously, he turned his attention back to Mike.
"Dylan, why did you run from us?"
Pointing at Steve, the young man shook his head and nervously bit his lip.
"I know what he is thinking, but I didn't do it."
"Then why don't you tell me what you think he is thinking?", smiling facetiously, Mike crossed his hands over the file and let out a slow breath.
Next to him, Steve began wearing grooves into the floor again, as he stared intently at both men sitting at the table. Growing increasingly agitated, Dylan looked over at the young Inspector before running a hand through his disheveled brown hair.
"I didn't kill Mavis."
Mike quickly exchanged a knowing glance with his partner, then focused back onto their suspect.
"And who is this Mavis?"
Dylan moaned quietly, as his eyes began to well up with tears. Leaning back into the office chair, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, before lowering his head.
"Mavis Johnson. The girl you found in the pipe. I didn't kill her."
As Dylan began to sob uncontrollably, Mike looked up at Steve, then pointed his chin at the bullpen.
Understanding the unspoken request to start digging up anything he could find under that name; the young Inspector left the interrogation room in a hurry.
"Why didn't you just come forward with that information?", Mike asked and waited patiently, until the young man managed to bring his emotions back under control.
"Because I was afraid that her father had already talked to you. He would make it sound like I did it. But it says that she was shot…and I don't even know how to shoot a gun."
"Easy now, Dylan. Just relax. Nobody is saying anything about you murdering somebody. We're just trying to find out what really happened to Mavis. So why don't you start at the beginning?"
Mike kept his voice calm and even, as the young man wiped the tears from his eyes. Clenching his jaw, Dylan took in a deep breath and sighed.
"Mavis and I met at a club in Oakland. Her father beat her all the time and she was trying to run away from home. Let's just say that I know how she feels; my parents aren't much better…one night we hung out and well…one thing led to another. We became involved, if you want to call it that. But a couple months later, she disappeared. I have a few friends in North Beach and they saw her, so I tried to track her down but she'd made friends with this Chantal girl."
When he stopped, Mike cleared his throat and pulled out the CPS file containing Chantal's picture.
"You are referring to Chantal Simmons?"
Dylan looked at the picture with a mixture of hatred and disgust, before nodding.
"Yes. She talked Mavis into all sorts of stuff. The one time I caught them at the beach, Mavis screamed at me and I saw fear in her eyes. I have no idea what Chantal told her about me and why she should be scared of me. But I am sure it was a bunch of lies."
Mike swallowed hard, before bringing up his next talking point. It would give him a clear insight into which side of the fence Dylan was on.
And if his gut feeling was right, he already knew the answer.
Adjusting his black reading glasses, Mike fished a report out of the file and handed it to the young man.
"Dylan, are you aware that Mavis was three months pregnant?"
His reaction was immediate when Dylan jumped out of the chair, nearly stumbling to the ground. Mike rose slowly, and lifted his hands to try and calm the young man down.
"You are lying!"
Shaking his head, Mike quietly pointed back at the report that had fallen to the floor.
"I wish I was Dylan, believe me."
The young man leaned against the back wall, as another round of sobs echoed through the interrogation room. Shaking violently, he stood there for many seconds until his nerves calmed down.
"She…this is…do you think she ran away because she knew she was pregnant? God, her father would have killed her if he found out. And killed me too."
Taking a step closer to Dylan, Mike picked the report up off the floor, before leaning against the table and crossing his arms.
"She may have very well been scared. Raising a child is a big responsibility, especially at that age. Maybe she was even ashamed?"
"Mavis should have known…we would have worked things out together…", Dylan bit his lip and looked back up at the Lieutenant, "I am in a lot of trouble for this, aren't I?"
Mike nodded somberly, as he looked back up at the young man.
"Any sexual intercourse with an underage girl is considered criminal sexual conduct. It's a felony in this county and the charge will be statutory, which means it doesn't matter whether the intercourse was consensual or not. Did she tell you how old she was before you two became…physically engaged?"
"She said she was eighteen, but I didn't believe her. It never mattered to us because…well, anything that happened was agreed upon. I didn't rape her, if that's what you are implying."
"I am not implying anything.", Mike said, his voice growing sterner, "But somewhere in that bright mind of yours, a warning bell should have gone off."
When the young man remained quiet, Mike took a deep breath and came closer.
"Now see, Dylan, I don't work for child services. You will need to sort this situation out with them. And I won't lie to you. There will be consequences. But me, I work for Homicide…and I want to find out who killed Mavis. You followed us around since we found her body, which leads me to believe you know a lot about that situation. Your help in solving her murder might look favorably on your record. Can you help us find Mavis' killer?"
Without hesitation, the young man looked back up, his brown eyes suddenly filled with rage again.
"I know who killed her."
Taking a step forward, Dylan pointed at the CPS file still lying on the desk.
"Chantal killed Mavis. And it's too bad I didn't find her first, because I want to kill Chantal for what she did to my girlfriend."