Chapter ten already? Wow. Doesn't time fly when we're having fun (at least I'm assuming we're all having fun?!)
Rebel8954, Well, the son is definitely going to be investigated and the doctor will pop up as well soon enough, so there's definitely still enough time to count and discount possible suspects off your list!
xXBalorBabeXx, Little bit late, but Happy Halloween to you too. Hope you had a good one. As for Christopher Hurley, well, there's definitely still time for him to be a suspect.
Minnie1015, Roman's protectiveness gives me life and if I can't see it on TV anymore, I'm damn sure going to write it (even though I wrote it even when it was on TV). Just call it a public service!
Not-that-kinda-gurl, Don't worry, because would I ever hurt Roman or Dean? Well okay, but would I ever hurt them too badly...Hmm. Fine. Maybe I would!
Guest, Many thanks!
Wolfgirl2013, Thank you!
SkittlezLvr79, Haha, Detective Skittlez is on the case! As for Dean? Well, we know that boy secretly loves the trouble and besides, Roman wanted some excitement in his new job didn't he? Dean is just making sure there's never a dull moment!
Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Well, there will always be protective Roman somewhere in my stories. But yeah, he is definitely not going to be a happy little Samoan bunny.
Phoenix lord of rebirth, I am a tease and an utterly shameless one at that too (evil wink). Glad you like Christopher Hurley. I mean, of course, he may still be the killer, but I guess you'll just have to wait and see on that one…
Cheryl24, Nope, Christopher Hurley is a totally original character (got a few of them in this story). But if you want to imagine him as a slightly younger version of Vince, then be my guest.
Skovko, Absolutely. Although one thing is for sure. Someone in this story is acting. Now if only we knew who…(taps finger to chin in classic 'thinking' pose).
ViolentHugger03, Lots of plot thickening coming up in this chapter too and the one after it come to think of it. There's thickening coming up all over the place (okay, that sounds gross!)
Mandy, Glad you have an outlet in your journal and it's always interesting to come back to after a few years and see where you were. Wishing you lots of luck in your freelancing. Hope everything becomes less confusing for you. Thanks for you wishes for my mum.
LunaticMischief, Aww, thank you so much. I'm glad you like my stories. It always makes me happy that other people enjoy reading them! I don't mind you saving them at all. Hope you enjoy the rest of this story too!
Alrighty...
TEN
"That's it," Roman grunts, pushing back from the desktop and then cracking his spine out with a grimace, "I think I'm done. Because I swear if I look at another damn paper my eyes are gonna cross and I'm gonna lose these handsome looks."
Dean looks up from his own desk suddenly,
"Huh?"
He has a newspaper article stuck to his face from where he's clearly been head down asleep for a while, which is probably because it's a quarter past nine and the two of them have been scouring the papers since lunchtime, reading anything they can find on the Ella Hurley case. Dean has rustled up a flip chart from somewhere and they have scribbled down any new developments in Sharpie pen, but there isn't a whole lot to see from their research other than a couple of fairly meaningless things.
The house Ella Hurley was found in was a rental. Part of her husband's portfolio.
Henry Hurley has eight convictions for carrying marijuana.
Christopher Hurley had identified his wife by her wedding ring.
Not to mention the Doctor Merrick that Hurley had mentioned isn't just a psychiatrist, he actually runs Blue Skies, which according to one article had helped cure Demi Lovato and some reality TV star that neither one of them had ever heard of before.
Dean blinks and then peers up at the clock above the doorframe. The one beside Carl. He squints at it,
"Ho crap. Uh, sorry 'bout that. Guess I must a' drifted off there," he runs his hands through his untidy hair then shakes his head. Seth and Brock are asleep on the sofa, like he probably should be.
Roman smiles,
"Not a problem babe. But I think I should probably be heading home now."
"You find anything?"
"Nothing new partner," Roman sighs in response, pushing the last of his pile of local papers to one side of the desk and then pausing, "Listen uce – ,"
"M' tellin' you Roman, somebody killed her."
The bigger man sighs and then pulls the sort of face that he probably tends to use with his daughter when she falls off her bike or finds out the tooth fairy isn't real, "I know you do uce. But what if they didn't? What if it really was suicide?"
"But Seth – ,"
"I know, I know. Some things just don't add up. But at least would you consider it? Just for a second here. For me?"
Dean huffs back like a bratty little child and then rolls his eyes, which doesn't help the look much,
"Ugh," he mutters back in frustration, "Okay fine."
"Was that an 'okay' I just heard?" Roman asks him, dipping his head low to grin across the desktop, which turns out to be annoyingly infectious,
"I said fine alright? I'll like, consider it. But maybe you can consider that she's been freakin' murdered."
"Pretty sure I've been considering that all day babe," Roman winks back, unfurling out of his desk chair and then starting to pull on his fancy pinstripe jacket, "Oh and seeing as how I'm kind of on a roll here, my wife wants me to invite you round to dinner sometime soon."
Dean perks up,
"She does?"
"Damn straight she does. I think mostly so she can beg you not to fire my ass anytime soon. But I mean, she also wants to meet you. So does my daughter. She thinks you're like the Scooby Doo gang."
Dean lights up. He likes that and cartoons as well and besides which, he's kind of gladdened, since usually nice, normal, regular people don't want him and his brand of crazy around. And yet there's Roman Reigns. Inviting him into it.
He looks up with a grin,
"Do I get to bring Seth?"
"Pretty sure my daughter would kill me if you didn't," Roman smiles back, giving the small white dog a pat and then snorting as Seth tries to eat him in dreamworld, "See you tomorrow brother."
Roman holds out his fist and Dean leans over the table and bumps it before blinking as Roman lifts it up to his lips, like he's drinking from an imaginary bottle or something. Well, either that or he's lost it.
"Uh, hey uce? What's that?"
"Oh," Roman snorts and then scratches his beard growth, like maybe he's embarrassed, "We used to do that on the team. Sorry, I guess it's kind of a habit."
"You mean like a secret handshake?"
Roman shrugs,
"I mean, I guess."
Dean grins,
"Cool. I always like, wanted to have one of those with someone. But what with my mom always movin' us around an' me bein' like, antisocial or whatever," he air quotes that part like he's heard it before. Probably from a teacher or social worker Roman guesses, "I like, never kinda had any real friends you know?"
"Well you got one now," Roman smiles back fondly, "Which is why I'm gonna tell your sorry ass to go to bed. We can pick all this up again in the morning. You hear me?"
Dean mock huffs at him,
"Alright, alright mom. M' just gonna take the pooches out for a pee break an' then I'll hit the hay. I promise."
"I'm gonna hold you to that."
Which is probably why, not ten minutes later Dean is stood out on the sidewalk in the dark, with Brock and Seth both straining on the leashes he has bought them as he holds up a hand and sees Roman off.
"You hear that Seth?" he grunts at the cotton ball, who is glaring at him for having been turned out into the cold, "You an' me are gonna be goin' out to dinner. So no freakin' yappin' an' like, growlin' at stuff. An' especially not at uce's freakin' kid. Do you hear me?"
Seth cocks his leg up a tree,
"Well you'd better. Brock, you're gonna have to stay here an' like, keep a' watch on things or whatever, because you kinda drool a lot, an' I didn't wanna say anythin' an' like, make you feel bad, but people don't really want dog spit in their house."
Brock blows a snot bubble out of his nostril which Dean takes as a protest.
"Look dude, sorry, but the truth hurts."
There is a small patch of scrubland surrounded by railings in the middle of the square outside the rundown brownstone. Or the rundown brownstones since the street is lined with them. Each one as crappy and as unloved as the last. Once upon a time – like, fifty years ago he figures – the whole place was probably pretty damn nice. With Cadillacs parked up along the street and normal families, like Roman and his wife. Instead of buildings full of pimps.
Usually the tiny little park in the middle is full of hobos, or pill pushers and scruffy gang kids, but the bitterly cold weather has kept them inside for once, which means that they have the whole place all to themselves. There's a bench to one side and so Dean pulls down his beanie, shunts his hands into his pockets and then sits himself down, while Seth and Brock sniff around and chase the squirrels who are trying to beat the cold by digging up nuts.
His mind drifts back to what Roman had been telling him. What if this whole thing is a suicide?
Dean blinks.
No. He knows that it isn't because – well, okay. He doesn't know that. He just feels it. Like he felt he wasn't meant to be a cop, and in the same way he felt like Roman was a good guy from the moment he had met him. He just he freaking knows.
Or at least he thinks he does.
"Fuck," he rubs a hand across his stubble then grumbles, "Seth, whoa, hey, stop sniffin' Brock's ass. Because people are gonna start talkin' about you an' I mean like, then what would I say? An' besides, you're brothers man. So frankly dude it's pretty freakin' sick."
Seth curls his lip and then trots off into the bushes as Brock twirls around and then starts to take a leak,
"Finally. Thought I was gonna be here all night or somethin," Dean gets up again, "Alright. Seth, come on."
Behind him he hears a tiny rustle in the bushes and then a muffled little yelp, like the cotton ball's in pain,
"Seth? You alright bud?"
Dean steps towards it, but only gets two paces before a figure launches out. Or make that two figures, both dressed in black outfits and with long balaclavas covering their heads. Except that only one of them does any launching. The other one just sort of stands and fucking looks. Not that Dean has much time to consider it as the other one buries their fist into his head.
"Ho fuck – ,"
Dean goes down like a sack of potatoes and then crashes back – ribs first – into the bench, which hurts even more than the blow to the temple. Or not. Because okay, that really freaking hurts.
"Brock," he yells as the tall, muscular attacker dives down on top of him and pulls out a knife, "Shit."
Dean fights a fist free and then swings it upwards, catching the man in the middle of the gut before trying to battle the damn knife away from him. Except, holy crap is the mugger freakishly strong.
"Brock."
The worst part is that he can see the bull mastiff twelve feet away from him sniffing a pile of turd and either blind or indifferent to the mugging, or whatever the fuck is happening
"God damn it. Brock – ,"
Lifting his kneecap up into a fleshy ballsack, Dean is rewarded with a pained sounding groan, which is when Seth decides to launch in from out of nowhere and sink his needle teeth into the guy's ankle,
"Argh."
Stumbling back the guy swings the knife downwards, but Dean kicks out and knocks him away, before bundling Seth up close to his body and trying to pretend like he isn't seeing stars, or like his head isn't pounding like a nightclub in Cabo full of horny teenagers getting drunk on Spring Break. Oh and it's also possible a few ribs are broken.
The burly attacker stumbles back unsteadily as the other one thankfully pulls at his arm,
"Stop sniffing around into things that don't concern you," balaclava man mumbles, sounding breathless himself and like maybe he's trying to hide what he sounds like, "Because the next time, trust me, I'm not going to miss."
"Oh yeah?" Dean snorts, "Why wait until next time? I'm here right now."
The attacker steps in again but is stopped by a shrill sounding shout from a brownstone. Or his brownstone to be exact.
"Hey, what's going on?"
Sunny is leant right out of the doorway and oh god, Dean could kiss her. He really freaking could, since the two masked figures reconsider their options and then suddenly take off,
"Yeah," Sunny screams, "You'd better run."
Back in the square Brock lazily pads over and then greets Dean unhelpfully with a sloppy lick to the face, seemingly unaware that anything has happened.
Dean groans,
"Some freakin' man eatin' guard dog you are. Although you on the other hand," he lifts Seth up fondly, "Are a real good boy. You hear me Seth? Real good."
His head spins suddenly and so he drops back with a grumble to lean against the bench as Sunny rushes up,
"Dean?"
He shuts his blue eyes wearily,
"M' okay. Jus' gonna like, rest up here for a second an' kinda get my breath back."
Except then he passes out.
Yep. Roman is not going to be impressed. The Samoan big brother/mom vibes will be strong!