Styles threw himself into his chair and smacked one hand onto the top of his desk. "Well, that was a lot of nothing," he grumbled.
Cena sighed and sat down at his desk opposite his partner. "We've got their official statements. If we find anything that will disprove what they've said, we'll have something to use against them."
Styles looked at his partner. "You think they had anything to do with Mizanin's murder?"
Cena frowned.
"It doesn't matter what either of you think. It's what you can prove."
Both men looked up at Chief of Police Dean Malenko.
"Yes, sir," Cena nodded. He glanced at Styles who wearily nodded.
"And here's a few things that may help you find something to contradict statements given to you." Malenko smirked as two clerks set file boxes on their desks.
Styles groaned. "What's all that?"
'Mizanin's phone records. Business. Cell. House. Copies of the insurance policies and financial records." Malenko managed not to laugh at Styles' horrified expression. "I've got the forensic accountant going over the financials, however, so just familiarize yourself with them."
"Oh, not him," Styles muttered. When Malenko glared at him, he protested, "What kind of a name is Shyster for an accountant anyway?"
"Meeting scheduled for Friday morning at 9am to go over all this. That gives you two days to work on this data." Malenko chose to ignore Styles' grumbling. "I want a clear idea of where we are on this investigation."
"Yes, sir," Cena nodded. When Malenko walked away, he stood and opened the box on his desk. "What do you want to start with?"
"Surprise me." Styles held out a hand. When Cena handed him the folder he sighed. "Cell phone records."
"I'll take the insurance policies," Cena volunteered, a smile playing across his lips.
"My hero," Styles drawled.
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Seth had left the bookstore in the capable hands of Bayley and Finn and gone upstairs to return a call from his publisher. Used to living on his own, he'd almost accepted the publisher's call when his phone rang. But he was determined to keep his identity of R. S. Gyxx hidden, so he let the call to go voice mail then excused himself a short time later.
Idly walking around the upstairs apartment as he listened to his publisher explain that advance copies of the fifth book in his fantasy series were going out to various bookstores to line up pre-orders, he was surprised that Rollins Bookstore was on that list. 'Well, guess I'm going to find out what my new friends think of the book.' He asked his publisher to send six copies to the bookstore. One would go to his former landlord in Chicago, and he would give other copies to any of the employees who might be interested.
As he finished the call, he found himself standing in front of one of his great-uncle's bookshelves. His eyes landed on his old high school yearbook, standing next to two of his college yearbooks. Pocketing his cell phone, he reached out and took all three books off the shelf and went to sit on the couch.
He stared at them in stunned silence. He'd had no idea his uncle had them. John Rollins had never expressed an interest in having them, and Seth had never bought any of them for himself. Hands shaking slightly, he set them on the couch next to him and opened the high school yearbook.
Flipping through the pages, he found his picture and began laughing. "Oh, that picture will never see the light of day again." Eighteen-year old Seth stared back at him. Dark eyes wide and serious. Hair severely combed back and neatly trimmed. No beard. A face that looked both scared of the future but eager to embrace it.
Then Seth's eyes found another picture. "Roman Reigns," he muttered. "Wow, you haven't changed much." Roman's picture was that of a smiling teenager apparently happy and confident of his future.
Then Seth was rapidly turning pages to find another picture. "Jon Moxley," he breathed. "Oh my God…how could I have forgotten you?"
Perhaps it was because the picture of the teenaged Jon Moxley didn't look like the adult. The teenager's hair was scraggly with bangs falling across his forehead. Defiant blue eyes stared out at the picture. His body language was that of someone having his picture taken under protest and determined to let it show.
Seth sat back on the couch and remembered his first day of school in the tenth grade.
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DAVENPORT HIGH SCHOOL – 2001
Seth Rollins sighed as he approached the high school. Settling his backpack more firmly on his back, he hoped to have a better year. Maybe he could avoid those who seemed to delight in tormenting him. He told himself that words like 'nerd', 'stupid', 'geek', funny looking', ugly and all the other words had no power over him and couldn't hurt him as much as the physical blows he'd received. He just wished he could believe it.
"Well, look at the nerd all dressed up for school."
Seth groaned to himself. Gallows and Anderson. He quickly wondered if he could outrun them. He didn't want to get beat up before he even got to school.
"Hey! Look at me when I talk to you, nerd!" Luke Gallows spun him around, causing him to lose his balance and stumble sideways.
Karl Anderson laughed. "Is he drunk?"
"Nah! Goody-two-shoes nerd doesn't drink, Karl," Gallows jeered. "You know that. He's just a clumsy nerd."
Seth stepped away. "Leave me alone."
"Or what?" Anderson grabbed Seth's arm. "You gonna do something about it?"
"I will."
The two words were spoken with calm assurance by the teenager who was leaning against a nearby tree, cigarette dangling from between his lips.
"Not any of your business, Moxley," Anderson growled.
Jon Moxley casually took the cigarette from between his lips and flipped it into the street. "Funny thing. You don't decide what my business is. I do." He took two steps away from the tree and rolled his shoulders. "And I decide this is my business."
"You don't have your buddy, Reigns, backing you up, Moxley," Gallows pointed out.
Moxley shrugged and cracked his knuckles. Then he drove towards Gallows, shoulder tackling the other teenager into a nearby tree.
Gallows gasped then slid to the ground, clutching his midsection.
Moxley slowly turned to face Anderson and Seth, his eyes maniacally wide. "Well?" he demanded.
Anderson released Seth and carefully stepped back. "This isn't over," he warned.
Moxley evilly smirked at Anderson. "Go to school, Rollins."
Seth didn't even consider disobeying the order. But as he backed away, he saw another teenager approaching. He recognized him as the son of his Uncle John's friend, Sika Reigns.
"Mox, what are you doing?" Roman Reigns asked with a slight grin.
"Playing," Mox sing-songed.
Roman noticed Seth's retreating figure and then Gallows slowly picking himself up from the ground. "Do we have a problem here?"
"Like I said, Moxley, this isn't over," Anderson warned as he helped his friend to his feet.
"Anytime,' Mox invited. "But that time will come faster than you think if you keep picking on people like you did last year."
Roman stood shoulder-to-shoulder in silent support with his chosen brother and watched as the other two teenagers backed off. Then he smacked Mox in the back. "Finding trouble before you even get to first period?"
Mox shrugged but grinned.
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Seth silently stared down at Mox's picture in the yearbook. Gallows, Anderson, and their crew had tried bullying him several times after that day. But, Moxley had always appeared before it got physical. Sometimes Reigns was with him, sometimes not. By the middle of the school year, they hadn't bothered Seth any longer. And from what he could find out, they didn't bully anyone else. How Moxley and Reigns managed it, Seth never knew. But when the two had shown up at Rollins' bookstore to study, Seth had made sure they had whatever reference materials they needed and arranged for other students to tutor or help them if needed.
But he'd never thanked Moxley. The other boy had intimidated him; and, by that time, he was successful at flying under everyone's radar.
Seth closed the yearbook. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he intended to find Jon Moxley and apologize for never thanking him. And then thank him for saving him all those years ago…and then from the Miz.
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Roman carefully watched his brother from the corner of his eyes as they walked into Roman's office. Mox was no longer the in-control man who walked out of prison but more like the Mox of their teenage years. By contrast, Samoa Joe was calm and seemed slightly amused by the entire event at the police station.
"New plan," Roman said. "Starting now, each of you have someone else with you. If you go somewhere together, you take at least one more person with you. The cops won't let you alibi each other from now on, and they're going to have eyes on both of you. Got it?"
"Understood," Joe nodded.
"Yeah," Mox grunted as he walked to stare out the window to the side yard, his right hand tapping his left collarbone.
Roman looked at Samoa Joe and jerked his head towards the open door. "Close it on the way out," he murmured. "And ignore any yelling or things being thrown. Nobody comes in."
Joe glanced towards Mox then nodded.
Mox heard the door to the office gently close and braced himself. His life had always run in a circle. Horrible childhood spun in a circle to a safe loving home with the Reigns' family. Then it spun back around to prison before returning to a safe home with Roman. Now it was circling back to…
"Jon?"
Mox sighed. Roman only called him Jon when things got serious. "Cops warned I'd be taking you down with me," he coldly spoke. "So, I'm leaving."
"You got a place lined up in town?" Roman deliberately misunderstood his brother.
"Leaving town," Mox snapped.
"You're going to run?"
Mox spun around. "Call it what you want. Time to cut the apron strings, Roman," he taunted before glaring at the other man. "You gonna try and stop me? Call your boys in to help you?"
Roman inwardly sighed. This was Mox at his bratty teenage worst. "I told you before that you have a place here as long as you want. If you've decided this isn't where you want to be, I won't stop you. As long as that's what you want."
Mox didn't miss the emphasis on the word 'want'. "Since when did what I want ever matter?" he sneered.
Roman refused to be goaded. "You know when that happened," he calmly replied.
Mox began to pace. "The cops will be on you. Watching your every move. Every move the Bloodline makes. If they can use me to take you down, they will." He shook his head. "Not gonna let that happen."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but the cops have been trying to take down the Bloodline since before either of us were born," Roman pointed out. "If you think leaving is going to stop them, you're not thinking straight."
Mox picked up the phone from Roman's desk and threw it to the floor. It shattered against the slate tiles. "DAMMIT, ROMAN!"
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Chris Jericho and Aleister Black were approaching Roman's office to discuss some business with him when they heard Moxley's angry yell. Jericho looked concerned but Aleister was looking at a chuckling Samoa Joe who was leaning against the wall outside the close office door.
"Sounds like things are starting to get interesting," Joe commented.
"Uh…should we…" Jericho indicated the closed door.
"Roman said ignore any noises and nobody was to go in," Joe answered.
Aleister calmly nodded. "It's never a good idea to get between brothers who are fighting."
Jericho reluctantly nodded in agreement.
"Especially when one's being an idiot," Joe snickered.
"And which one would that be?" Aleister asked, a slow smile appearing on his face.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Roman kept his face neutral although inside he was cheering. Finally, his brother was coming back to him. He knew this Moxley…knew how to deal with him. "Feel better now that you've destroyed my phone?" he calmly asked.
"You can fucking afford another phone," Mox snarled.
"True, but I can't afford to lose my brother again," Roman pointed out.
Mox felt a sharp pang of regret shoot through him. He spun around and threw the desk lamp onto the slate tiles where it also shattered. He leaned forward, arms bracing his weight against the desk. "Roman, don't…," he quietly pleaded, then took a deep breath. "Don't make this harder for me. Let me do this for you." He heard Roman deeply sigh and walk closer to him.
"If you really want to leave, I'll help you," Roman quietly promised. "But listen to me first." When Mox didn't answer, he added, "Please?"
After a moment, Mox silently nodded.
"The cops aren't going to stop coming for us. They didn't stop while you were in prison. So, you being here or not being here isn't a factor in what they do," Roman carefully spoke. "If you run…and that's what you'll be doing…they'll see it as an admission of guilt. That you had something to do with Miz' murder and maybe Renee Young's as well. Maybe it'll be enough to get Swagger and Colter off the hook." He heard Moxley growl under his breath and continued.
"Tell me, Jon. Tell me what you really want."
"What I want? WHAT I WANT?" Mox exploded and began to pace. "I WANT MY FUCKING LIFE BACK! I WANT THOSE FIVE YEARS THOSE GODDAMNED BASTARDS STOLE FROM ME! I WANT EVERY ONE OF THOSE GODDAMNED SONS OF BITCHES TO PAY FOR WHAT THEY DID TO ME! ALL OF THEM!"
Furious, Mox grabbed the chair behind Roman's desk and flung it towards the bookcase.
"I WANT TO BREATHE CLEAN AIR WITHOUT COPS LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER ALL THE TIME! I WANT MY FAMILY…MY FAMILY AROUND ME! I WANT…I…"
Mox took a deep breath and slumped against the side of Roman's desk. "I want what you have, Roman," he mumbled. "Family. Friends. People who care." He rubbed his face, surprised at the tears he found there.
Roman slowly walked to his brother and pulled him into a loose hug. He felt Mox shaking and tightened his embrace.
"You'll get all that, Jon," he promised. "But if you run, you can't ever come back. And you'll always be looking over your shoulder. Everything you want will never happen." He took a deep breath and steadied his own voice. "But if you stay, then we fight for what you want. We fight to find out who killed Renee Young and the Miz. We fight. Because you are part of my family and that makes us part of your family."
Mox took several shaky breaths then nudged Roman back. He rubbed his face. "Fight, huh?" he smirked.
Roman seriously nodded. "We fight, Jon. Together." He held out his fist to Mox.
Without hesitation, Mox touched his fist to Roman's.
He was part of the Bloodline. And the Bloodline would always fight for one of their own.
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An hour later, the door to Roman's office opened. Mox ignored Samoa Joe who was still leaning against the wall. Head down, he continued down the hallway and then up the stairs to the second floor.
Samoa Joe turned his head to look at Roman who'd appeared in the open doorway. "Clean up in aisle five?" he joked.
Roman smirked in return. "Mox always insists on cleaning up his messes," he said. "He'll take care of it later. Ask Ricochet and Ali to join me in the office. I need them to make a run to get me another phone and lamp."
Joe snickered. "Black and Jericho were here earlier. Needed to see you about some business."
Roman nodded. "When you see them, tell them I'm available. Then let everyone know that I'm calling a meeting for tomorrow at 8am. Breakfast at 7am. We're going on the offensive to find out who murdered Renee Young and the Miz. Enough of the cops going after you and Mox." He paused then continued. "Make sure everyone knows that Mox is my brother and a part of the Bloodline. Anyone who has a problem with that can see me after dinner."