Atticus' POV:
"So we have nothing?" I ask Jared, leaning back in my chair. "Seriously?! What happened when I was suspended?"
Jared shrugs. "We put her name in the search and in your first week of suspension, Avi and I spent hours searching through files, but she had nothing bad. Like, she was completely clean so there wasn't much on her."
I've been back for about a week, but I haven't gotten to sit down and reconnect with Jared much on our Mistacesemia issue. Of course, Darrel (who is sporting a beautiful bruise, courtesy of me) decided to assign me with a shit ton of extra work because he's salty as hell that he couldn't fire me.
Thankfully the superiors like me and decided that suspension was enough, as they like my commitment and I've met a few of them personally.
"How can she be clean?! She killed an innocent man, blew up an apartment building, and tried to murder Silas!" I look through the file that Jared has on her, but he's right; there's nothing. "What about brain scans? People with Mistacesemia need scans every few years, right?"
Jared nods, handing me another file, with Andrea Velazco's medical history.
Her scans show a completely normal, level headed person. Not only level headed, but she also is extremely smart and was not only an honors student, but she has a Master's degree in Chemical Engineering.
I read even deeper into the file about Andrea as a person, because nothing here shows that she would grow up to be a killer.
She was homeschooled but participated with the local Speech & Debate Team, and her parents were very supportive of her endeavors. She was offered a scholarship and graduated with her Master's at age twenty one and got out almost debt free because of how incredible her scholarships were.
She also worked with a personal trainer who helped her handle her powers and use them in self defense; something that is illegal in many states, but not where she's from.
"The only thing sticking out to me is the self defense training," I say, closing all of the files and stacking them up. "But even that wasn't a red flag. Her trainer always gave her the best marks and claimed she was composed and couldn't harm anyone. Plus, Mistacesemia self defense training isn't illegal in South Carolina, so that can't really be something we say is necessarily wrong."
Jared nods in agreement, pulling up a page on his computer. "I've been searching for her family, but no one died, nothing seems to be a trigger or launch point for her decision to murder people like her. In fact, most of her speeches were about the protection of people like her and she was a public activist."
"Until she went awol and decided to go against everything she apparently believed in," I comment, because it's true. "I just want to know why she snapped."
"I've tried to call her parents, but they never answer the phone," Jared tells me, pursing his lips. "They have a voicemail box set up, but no matter how many messages I left, they don't respond."
That is a bit strange, because if I had a child who took off and is now being broadcasted on the news as one of the most wanted and dangerous individuals, I'd help the police out. Not because I'd want to see my child in prison, but because if parents help the police force, we, well, myself and Jared at least, do what we can to bring the person in alive so that they are given a fair trial. We don't ever want to have to call the parents and tell them we killed their child.
"Has there been any sightings yet?"
"I would have told you," Jared tells me, and I know he would have, but I still want to hold out hope that we'll find her. "She has two sisters and I decided to wait until you got back to call them because I know you'd want to be involved, and I assume that if the parents didn't answer the sisters probably won't either."
I disagree, because siblings have a different connection than parents do with their kids. It's not that they're closer, because some siblings aren't, but I know from other cases and what I've witnessed that siblings (unless they're involved) will do whatever they can to assist the police for the safety of their sibling.
"How close in age are they?" I ask, looking at the names Jared has collected.
"The older one is eighteen months older than Andrea, and the younger one is two years younger than Andrea. According to what I've found, the three were close growing up despite the malfunction and they stayed close into adulthood, even though the oldest, Melina, moved to Maryland with her husband about a year ago. The younger one, Natalya, still lives with her parents because she's only twenty, and she and Andrea went on a trip about four months ago. Strange thing is, if Andrea randomly disappeared, I would think that Natalya or Melina would have filed a missing person's report."
He's right; that is really weird.
Especially since they seem to be very close from everything the file is showing me.
I dial the number for Melina, and it rings a few times before someone answers.
"Hello?" a man's voice asks.
"Hi, is Melina True around?"
"Who's asking?"
Well, he sounds like he doesn't want to hand the phone over to Melina.
"I'm a representative from the Oregon Supernatural Investigation Unit. I need to speak with Melina about her younger sister, Andrea Velazco."
The man sighs over the phone. "I assume this is a recorded call and you guys are tracking us?" he asks and wow, he already doesn't like me!
It usually takes people at least ten minutes to despise me. Thirty seconds is a little quick!
"No, sir. I merely want to speak with Melina about Andrea and why a missing person's report wasn't filed when she disappeared. Especially since we assume that she went off grid about one to two months ago and we have proof that she killed someone and attacked my- uh, another individual with Mistacesemia. Oh, and blew up an apartment building," I say, and I know it's kind of brutal, but I feel as though this person wants straight answers and for me to be clear with him, so that's what I'm going to do.
The man sighs once again. "Whatever," he grumbles. "Melina!"
There's some shuffling and whispers, and a woman's voice echos through the phone.
"Do you know where my sister is?" She sounds terrified and frantic, and it makes me feel bad for her.
"No, but I was hoping you'd be able to help me figure out a motive," I tell Melina. "Do you have a few minutes."
"No. If you want to have this conversation, I will not have it over the phone. You're welcome to come to Maryland, or I'll head to... Oregon, was it? This is not something I will discuss over the phone."
Well, I wasn't expecting that, but I can understand it. People can be forced to make stressful and hard decisions when they're involved in a family affair like this.
"Understood. May I have your contact information so I can fly you over here? I cannot leave my job long enough to get to Maryland."
"Yes, but my husband will be coming with me."
We spend the next twenty minutes working out the details and I send them tickets to fly over here.
"Natalya didn't answer," Jared tells me once I've shared my small win. "Are you going to interrogate them here?"
I shake my head. "I don't want this in the books, Jared. If Darrel knows about this, he will take over and we won't get the answers we need. We need to show Melina that we care about people and we want to help Andrea and not hurt her.
When the clock hits four, I pack up my stuff and look at my phone to see that I have a few missed calls from Lincoln and a bunch of text messages.
Of course, this panics me because Lincoln usually leaves me cheesy texts (and Silas has started doing the same!) but he rarely calls me this many times.
"Babes?" I ask when I call back. "What's going on? What's with all the calls? Are you okay?!"
"I'm fine," Lincoln says, and he sounds perfectly okay. "But I need you to grab some ice cream sandwiches on your way home, please! Silas did not have a very good day."
Oh, that does not sound good.
"Is he with you?"
Lincoln hums. "He's sleeping. He's so cute when he sleeps!"
"I thought you didn't get off work until five?"
"Mr. Mora sent us home early because some lady was super verbally abusive toward Silas and I didn't have any appointments after three anyway. I was only going to stay late to stay with Silas and complete some paper work, but I can do that tomorrow and Beni said she'd do the rest of the day, since it was only a couple of hours and Silas is alone for the full day tomorrow."
I have so much respect for Lincoln's coworkers; they're always so kind and treat each other with so much kindness and respect.
"Okay, I'll go to the store and be home around five."
"Love you!!!" Lincoln exclaims, making kissy noises over the phone before hanging up.
When I get home, my two lovers are both cuddled on our bed, and it looks like Lincoln was taken by sleep. I put away the groceries and take off my clothes, leaving only my briefs, before I slide in between the two.
Lincoln naturally wraps his arms around my waist and curls into my side. He is such a clingy sleeper; both of my boyfriends are. However, Lincoln is just very open about it and wants to be on me.
Not that I mind, of course!
Silas is a bit shyer, but once I have pulled him closer, he rests his head on my chest and keeps sleeping.
There's bags under his closed eyes and I can tell that he's been crying, and recalling what Lincoln said, I feel anger burn up inside of me. Someone really insulted and attacked him verbally for something he can't control, and Silas is not a crier, but the fact that it broke him and made him fall into a fit of tears breaks me.
He opens his eyes briefly when I shift to get my phone from my pocket and they're horribly bloodshot.
"Go back to sleep, kitten," I tell him, and Silas sits up, kissing my lips.
That's bold for him, because he's cocky in almost every walk of life except for sex or intimacy.
However, from the smile on his lips, I can tell he meant it and isn't afraid of showing me affection the same way he usually is.
"Hello to you, too," I say, and I certainly do not complain when Silas climbs on top of me and lays down. "Rough day?"
"Yeah," he mumbles in a crackly voice. "I just need to be held right now."
"I can do that, Silas," I whisper, kissing his forehead and holding him with one arm, keeping my other around Lincoln's waist.
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