A fist met the cool cement brick walls of the police headquarters. Jason Grant was mad. No, strike that, he was fuming. Never before had an interrogation session left him so agitated. He was in there for hours already with no sign of the annoying little rich kid cracking. "Sophie, this little shit's not talking," he all but growled at his only team member still at the precinct.

Sophie just blinked up at him sagely. "He will," she pulled his hand away from the wall rubbing the tender knuckles, "just calm down, go in there and ask smart questions."

She watched as the man took a few deep breaths and turned back to the door. Opening the door, Jay walked over to the table and began questioning their person of interest again. Sophie listened in from the outside, watching the scene unfold from the one-way window.

The first aggravating session that Jason had conducted with Patric Riot had focused on Marjorie Johnson. The boy was adamant that he had nothing to do with her, but admitted to being with her most of the day. Apparently he left about an hour and a half before the suspected time of the murder, and was working on a mural for the old woman when he was apprehended by the police. Further incriminating evidence was the off white spray paint can that was left in his bag. It was an analyzed match to the paint flakes found at the crime scene. Yet the kid denied that even being his paint. Said the color was ugly and he would never use it for anything.

Patric sighed as the man questioning him came in for round two. He just didn't understand what was happening. Mrs. Johnson was dead? He had just been with her that morning. It didn't seem real. And the police seemed to think he was responsible for all of this. Based on spray paint. There had to be more evidence than that. Nobody could be convicted on spray paint alone. Could they? He sure hoped not or he was royally fucked.

Jason sat down at the table glaring at the chained punk on the other side. He just screamed rich kid. His hair was dyed a borderline bleach blond and his clothing looked expensive. There was this air to him that said he was riding on daddy's coat tails and would never have to actually be a functioning contributing member of society. He could just go crying to daddy like the sniveling little silver spoon licking shit he was. And he vandalized on top of that. It was well known that Patric Riot had been given several tickets for defacement of property. But he had never had to pay any of them. Something about the person deciding that they actually wanted the graffiti there, like they commissioned it or something. Jason knew better than to believe that. It was that damn silver spoon known as daddy's connections. He was sure the man had paid the person big to look the other way as their property was defaced.

"Okay, so clearly we're not getting anywhere with Marjorie Johnson. Let's try some of the other names on this little list," Jason growled out trying his best to intimidate the kid across from him.

Unimpressed with the cop's roughness Patric answered with a question, "Just out of curiosity, how many names are on that list?" He wanted to know exactly how many people he supposedly killed.

"I'm asking the questions," the man barked out. Patric had the strange feeling his bark was probably not worse than his bite.

He gave a placating gesture as best he could with his hands cuffed to the chair. "By all means, ask away," then he waited for Jason to question him.

The man sat up straighter and seemed to pull an I-pad out of nowhere. Clearly questioning a suspect has entered the 21stcentury, Partic thought drolly as he waited patiently for the brutish cop to fumble his way to the right page.

Then the questioning began. "Where were you on the night of August 13, 2015?"

Patric did everything in his power to prevent himself from rolling his eyes, but judging by the deepening scowl on Jason's face, he didn't succeed. "I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast, and you want me to remember what I was doing back in August? Are you going to ask that for every single person?"

The cop's face darkened to a deep angry red. He was trying so hard to reign in his temper but this smug defiant man sitting across from him was making it so difficult. Jay just managed to hiss out an angry, "yes," before he took a ragged angry breath in, trying to calm himself.

Patric blinked, surprised at how easily the cop was riled up. "Okay then, big guy, I'll try and answer your stupid questions."

It was as if Patric had spoken some kind of magic words. He watched in fascination as Jay's color returned to a healthy tan.

"Alright, same question: where were you on the night of August 13, 2015?"

"As it just so happens, I was in the park that night," Patric smiled smugly. He had known exactly where he was that night. It was the Persied meteor shower after all.

Jason looked at the man dumbfounded. It couldn't be that easy. Why would he just come out and say he was in the park? He had to hear the reports on the body being found in the park. "And why were you at the park, Mr. Riot?"

"Well, if you must know, I'm really into astronomy and that just happened to be the peak of a meteor shower. You were supposed to be able to see 50-75 meteors in an hour and the moon was a crescent. The parks so dark and-"

"That's great, I get it, you like science," Jason cut him off. He so didn't need a science lesson right now. Still being in the park watching a meteor shower wasn't exactly an air tight alibi, especially with the murder taking place in said park.

"Was anyone with you?"

The boy clicked his tongue against his teeth, "Nobody in my family shares my affinity for the outdoors. The only people with me were a few people with nowhere to go for the night who decided to sit down and watch the meteor shower with me."

There was a sense of bitterness to wat the boy said that Jason found fascinating despite himself. The kid's family, it seemed, didn't want to spend time with the boy. Whatever... "'People with nowhere to go?'" he asked instead.

"You know," Patric nodded his head, then seeing that Jason actually didn't know what he was hinting at all he elaborated, "homeless people."

Right... Jay decided to try a different rout. "What is your connection with a Mr. Zabien Fitzgerald?"

Strangely enough, the suspect's face went pale. "I-Is that who we're talking about now?"

Jason just nodded his head.

"Fuck." Patric went to rake his hands through his hair, his face scrunching up in disgust when he remembered those pesky handcuffs on his wrists. "Zabien's dead?" he asked voice small.

Again Jay nodded.

"He was my lab partner in chem., fucking brilliant, that guy."

"Well now he's fucking dead," Jason growled. He smirked when Patric flinched at the biting words.

"But, him and Abby were going to get married," the kid all but whined. 'Why did this happen? Why would someone do this?"

Jason fixed a grim expression on his face. "That's what my team and I are trying to figure out. And, unfortunately for you, you're the prime suspect in this case."

"I wouldn't kill Zabien!" Patric hissed vehemently.

"That remains to be decided," Jay spoke coolly. He still was under the impression that everything this kid was spouting out of those pouty lips was complete and utter bullshit. And while they were on the subject of Mr. Fitzgerald's girlfriend, "Where were you on the night of September 16, 2015?"

"Why? Who died then?"

Jay tried to ignore the fact that Patric kept answering his questions with fucking questions, how annoying, and just answered the kid, "A Miss Abby King."

Patric's back went ramrod straight. "Abby too?"

"Yes. My guess is, she wasn't a planned kill. I think she saw something when you murdered her boyfriend and you were trying to cover her tracks. After all, her only real connection to you was through Zabien, am I right?" Jason spouted off quickly hoping to trip the kid up.

"Yes?" Patric answered. "Wait, I mean no! No because I didn't kill Zabien... or Abby. I didn't. I didn't even know they were dead."

Ever the skeptic Jason asked, "How could you not know they were dead?" It's not like the killings hadn't been all over the news, all the time.

"I don't watch the news much," Patric answered as if he had heard what the cop was thinking.

A buzzer went off and Sophie's voice floated into the room over the speaker system. "Jason, take a break, I'll continue question the suspect."

Jay wanted to argue with the girl, but he really could use a break. His eyes were watering from staring at the notebook screen so long and his neck was getting stiff. He also could use a few minutes away from the sniveling, lying pretty boy across from him. Standing up, Jason made his way over to the door. "Be good for Sophie, or you'll get it when I come back." He threatened.

"Really, Jason, threats are so unbecoming," the cheeky little shit had the audacity to say as Sophie took his place in the room.

Jason growled as he went to relieve himself and get a coffee.

Back in the room Sophie took in the chained up figure sitting across from her. He was putting on a brave face but she could tell this rough treatment was getting to him. He didn't look it, but Sophie could tell he was a gentle soul. Behind that bad boy haircut and rich clothing was someone who was doing their best with the lot life gave to them.

Patric was stunned at the switch from Jason to Sophie. She was pretty much the complete opposite of him in just about every way. He had been loud and intimidating, her soft spoken and looked like she couldn't even hurt a fly.

"What is your connection to a Mr. Ezekiel Benet?" she asked him voice barely above a whisper.

"Zeke too?" it almost came out as a sob. Sophie noted the look of utter despair on the boy's face.

"Yes. The killer tried to make it look like a suicide," she supplied trying to get him to say anything.

"I tutored him," he spoke hollowly. All the fight left him.

"Did you have a tutor date with him on August 29, 2015?"

"Was that a Saturday?" he asked, voice cracking. Patric swallowed, dreading the answer.

"Yes."

"I tutored him. From 6:00-9:00 that night."

"And what did you do after that?" Sophie asked pressing for some details that might help the kid out.

He looked at her, gaze totally defeated, "Nothing that will make me look like I didn't kill him."

Taking pity on the miserable boy, she moved on to the last name on the list. "What about Nico Garcia?"

And here the boy cried. "Nico," he sobbed not able to stop the floodgate of emotions that came rushing out at the mention of the last name.

Sophie watched as Patric tried to compose himself. "He was my ex-boyfriend." He said hollowly.

"Of how long?"

Here Patric let out a sardonic sort of chuckle, "Honestly only about three months, and we never were too serious, but I cared about him, you know."

"You do know you're here because all of the murders have a common theme," she informed the boy.

Patric nodded his head, "I'm guessing spray paint?"

That was why they had reacted so badly to his spray paint when they took him in for questioning. He watched her nod her head, "that and you."

With those chilling words Sophie Porter exited the room leaving Partic alone and chained to that chair.

Realization dawned on him that all this evidence they had pointed to him. Why, he wasn't sure, but it did and he'd be convicted unless he did dome fast thinking.

And where was that brutish guy? Surely his break had been long enough. Patric couldn't feel his leg anymore, it went numb from sitting so long. How long were they planning to let him in this room alone?

So he sat and waited for something to happen. He had this funny feeling they were both watching from the other side of that annoying one way window. While he waited he slowly formed a plan.

Once all the details were figured out in his mind Patric called out tone sounding surprisingly bored, "Hey guys, I'm kind of tired of sitting in here. I'd like to strike some kind of deal."

No sooner had the sentence been uttered and the door was flung open. A smug looking Jason Grant sauntered into the room, "Now we're talking." He plopped himself down at the table and motioned for Patric to speak.

"Okay, so I know you think I'm guilty," Jay scoffed there, "and, I'll admit that it does look, even to me, like I could have killed these people. But I didn't." Here Patric leaned forward in his seat. "Here's the thing, I've always wanted to solve a mystery like the great Sherlock Holmes. Let me find the real killer." His voice was strong and steady thrumming with a confidence he was hoping would win them over.

Jason shared a look with Sophie. Should they take the kid up on his offer? Something inside was telling him it was pointless. The kid was obviously the murderer, and one hell of an actor. He'd slip up or the evidence would speak for itself in court and that would be the end of his lies. But another smaller part, deep down inside, wondered if maybe, just maybe this kid deserved a chance. Usually Jason was all about giving second chances. Did a snobbish rich boy that did absolutely nothing productive in society deserve that second chance?

As much as it pained him, Jay knew he was going to give Patric Riot this chance.

He looked the boy straight in the eyes and announced his decision, "You've got one week to convince me you're not our guy," Jason looked down at his watch, it was nearing 12.00 pm, "starting now."