CHAPTER 16
A lazy, sleepy atmosphere hung over the station. Most of the desks stood empty: some people had gone to lunch, others had stepped outside for a smoke, making the hallways feel a little wider and quieter than usual. The fluorescent lights crackled softly overhead, their hum echoing off the gray walls, while somewhere deeper in the building a coffee machine buzzed away.
Billy had settled at his desk with headphones on. His notebook lay open in front of him, and with a slight frown of concentration, he was busily writing something down. Every now and then he would stop, reread what he'd written, make a correction, then return to scribbling rapidly across the page.
Rick found himself smiling.
Funny.
Since returning to Dumpfield, he didn't think he'd actually sat down at his own desk even once.
Not without rushing past it, grabbing another file on the run, and disappearing back into town five minutes later.
Just sat down.
He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and for the first time all day allowed himself to do absolutely nothing.
The silence settled over him almost immediately.
At first it was pleasant. After the endless conversations, the drive, the noise of the diner, and the chaos of the morning, it came as an unexpected relief.But only a few seconds passed before his thoughts slowly began gathering around the same point again.
Coop. Stanley. The lab report. The note neatly folded inside his jacket pocket.
Rick let out a heavy breath.
What was he supposed to do with all of this now?
Wait until Friday?
Wait for Aaron to come back?
He grimaced irritably before he'd even finished the thought.
No.
He couldn't wait anymore.
Too much was already in motion. Too much depended on a single email that, if his calculations were correct, should already be sitting in Lake's inbox.
Rick abruptly opened his eyes. His gaze landed on Billy. The younger man was still sitting there in his headphones, completely absorbed in his notes, oblivious to everything around him.
Parker watched him silently for several seconds.
Then called quietly:
"Billy."
No reaction.
His head merely swayed faintly in time with the music.
"Billy," he repeated louder.
Still nothing.
Rick snorted, crumpled the nearest sheet of paper, and launched it neatly across the rows of empty desks.
The paper ball hit Hong squarely in the shoulder.
The young man jumped, turned around in surprise, hastily pulled out one earbud, and looked at him questioningly.
"What?"
"Do you have access to Lake's computer?"
Billy blinked.
"Uh... yeah. Sometimes Detective Lake lets me work in his office."
Rick nodded shortly. As though he had just confirmed a decision he'd already made.
"Then let's go."
"Where?"
Parker was already getting to his feet.
"I need your help."
Something in his tone made Billy put away his notebook and stand up without asking further questions. Only when they stopped outside a familiar door did Hong finally frown.
"Rick..."
But Rick had already pressed down on the handle.
The office greeted them with its usual silence and the faint scent of green tea that somehow still hadn't faded away.
Parker crossed the room, dropped into Lake's chair, and opened the laptop. It hummed softly, and the screen slowly came to life, filling the office with a cool bluish glow.
While the system loaded, his gaze caught on the crystal award sitting at the very edge of the desk.
The transparent facets caught the warm lamplight, making the engraved letters briefly stand out.
Detective Aaron Lake. In Recognition of Outstanding Service. 2022.Rick lingered on it.
Made detective at twenty-four?
He let out a quiet huff.
Of course.
Aaron had always been like that in school too.
If he committed to something, he didn't let go until it was finished.
That was probably why his success always looked effortless to everyone else. But in reality, nobody ever saw how much work went into it.
A strange thought suddenly crossed Rick's mind.
What had happened to him all those years?
To Aaron.
While Rick had been living in different cities, changing jobs, friends, apartments, while learning how to put himself back together piece by piece...What had Aaron been doing?
Working?
Had it really all been about the job?
Or was there something more hidden behind those neatly organized files, the immaculate desk, and the awards? Something Aaron simply never shared with anyone.
Rick's gaze drifted around the office.
Strange.
For the first time in all these years, he found himself genuinely wondering how those ten years had passed for the person he had once known better than anyone.
The screen emitted a soft beep, signaling that the system had finished loading.
He silently turned his attention to the monitor.
"Are you... serious?" Billy asked in an almost inaudible whisper, nervously glancing toward the door. "We aren't even supposed to be in here. If somebody sees the light..."
"Then we'll come up with something."
"Easy for you to say."
"If Detective Lake decides he wants to kill me afterward, I'll give him the opportunity," Rick muttered without taking his eyes off the screen. "For now, enter the password."
Hong froze.
For several seconds he visibly wrestled with himself, looking from the screen to the office door, as though hoping the decision would somehow make itself. Then he sighed heavily, bit his lip, and finally stepped toward the keyboard.
His fingers moved quickly across the keys.
The screen flickered, and the desktop appeared almost instantly.
Hong immediately pulled his hands away and took half a step back, as though hoping that whatever happened next no longer involved him. Parker simply leaned closer to the desk and opened the email inbox.
"What are you doing?" Billy whispered in alarm, grabbing his shoulder. "That's... personal."
Rick shrugged off his hand.
"You can't do this..." the younger man insisted.
"I can," Rick interrupted quietly, continuing to scan through the messages. "I only need one thing."
Hong shifted nervously beside him, repeatedly glancing at the door.
"If the others find out, they'll tell him!"
"I told you, I'll deal with him."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
One corner of Rick's mouth twitched.
"At least a little."
At that moment, a new message appeared in the inbox.
Forensics Department.Biological Evidence Analysis.Rick stopped smiling. Almost automatically, he clicked it.
For several seconds the document loaded. Then the first lines appeared.
Expert Conclusion:"The genetic profile obtained from the cigarette butt (Sample No. 2) fully matches the genetic profile obtained from biological material discovered in the hunting cabin (Sample No. 1).There are no grounds for excluding the possibility that both samples originated from the same individual."Rick froze.
For a moment he simply stared at the screen, as though expecting the words to change on their own.
Then he slowly looked lower.
Comparative Sample: Mark Cooper.He read the surname again. And again. It didn't change.
His chest suddenly felt hollow.
So...He really had been there.
His cigarette.
His trace.
Fragments of memory flashed through Rick's mind. The schoolyard. Loud parties.
Katie's laughter. Mark, who had seemed like just another guy in their group back then.
If this was true...
Rick felt the cold spreading slowly beneath his ribs.
Everything that had seemed like just another working theory yesterday evening suddenly had a name.
And that made it genuinely terrifying.
"Rick..." Billy called carefully.
He didn't answer. He simply reread the report again, hoping to find a mistake.
Any mistake.
"Rick..." Hong whispered this time.
Billy's fingers suddenly tightened around his elbow. Only then did Rick finally tear his gaze away from the screen.
Confident, unhurried footsteps were approaching down the hallway. Very close.
"Someone's coming!" Billy breathed. "We can't be here..."
Rick looked quickly at the monitor.
Damn it.
The document was still open.
His hand moved to the mouse on its own. He hurriedly closed the email and almost instinctively opened the first folder he saw on the desktop.
Three Maples Lake.Just in time. Because the next second, the door swung open.
Sheriff Hayes stood in the doorway.
She stopped and slowly shifted her gaze from Rick to Billy. For a brief moment, Rick felt as though all the air had vanished from the room.
"What are you doing?" the sheriff finally asked. Her voice was stern and completely devoid of unnecessary emotion.
Billy opened his mouth. Then immediately closed it again.
Rick felt a chill settle unpleasantly inside him, but his face had already arranged itself into a light, almost carefree smile.
"Good afternoon, Sheriff. Working. I was showing Billy crime scene photographs. Thought I'd go over the details with him one more time."
Several crime scene photos really were open on the screen.
Hayes studied the monitor for a few moments longer. Then she slowly folded her arms across her chest and looked back at Rick.
"In Lake's office?"
"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "The monitor's bigger here."
Billy slowly turned his head toward him. The expression on his face was one of such genuine shock that it looked as though he had just witnessed the crime of the century.
The sheriff raised an eyebrow.
"And Hong's computer is broken?"
Rick swore internally.
"No."
"Then why not use his?"
He shrugged faintly.
"Detective Lake always says it's better to pick up good habits right away. So I figured I'd show Billy how he usually reviews case materials. Besides, the image quality is better here, and details like that matter in our line of work."
He said it so calmly that, for a moment, he almost believed the improvisation himself.
Hayes listened without interrupting. She lazily shifted her gaze to Billy, who seemed afraid even to blink, then looked back at Rick.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of her mouth.
“Well...” she said. “You certainly have a talent for it.”
She took a step back, but stopped again just before leaving.
“Just don't stay in here too long. Detective Lake doesn't like people invading his personal space.”
“Of course, Sheriff,” they answered almost simultaneously.
A moment later, the office was theirs again.
For several long seconds, neither of them said a word. Only the laptop hummed quietly.
Rick let out a long breath and finally leaned back in the chair.
“Whew...” He rubbed a hand over his face and couldn't help smirking. “You know... that was almost convincing.”
“Almost?!” Billy leaned toward him sharply. “Are you serious right now?!”
Rick looked up in surprise.
“What?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’?” We just broke into a detective's office, accessed his personal email, lied straight to the sheriff's face, and you're sitting there smiling!”
He threw his hands up, as if he couldn't believe the list he'd just recited.
“That was a nightmare!”
Parker shrugged guiltily.
“Well... we didn't get caught.”
“That is not an argument!” Hong burst out. He paced nervously around the office, yanking his headphones from around his neck and shoving them irritably into his pocket. “I still don't understand how I agreed to this in the first place.”
“Maybe because I asked very convincingly?”
“No! Because I'm an idiot!”
Rick snorted softly, got to his feet, and took a step toward him.
Billy stopped abruptly.
“That's it.” He pointed at the door. “I've had enough for today!” He turned and headed for the exit.
“Billy.”
He didn't stop.
“Billy, wait! What about The Pouring Apple?”
The young man froze. For several seconds he stood there without turning around.
Then he asked quietly:
“Why?”
Rick frowned in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
Billy slowly turned around.
Almost nothing remained of his irritation now. Only exhaustion. And a kind of childish, sincere hurt.
“So I can sit in the car again while you talk to somebody?”
Rick froze in the middle of the office.
So that was it. It wasn't about Lake's email. Not about the sheriff. Not even about today's little adventure. All this time, Billy had simply wanted to be taken seriously.
One by one, the day's conversations flashed through Rick's mind.
Wait here.Stay in the car.I'll be quick.He hadn't even noticed how naturally he'd assigned the intern the role of the person who always stayed behind him.
Damn...
Parker clenched his jaw harder, feeling an unpleasant ache beneath his ribs.
“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, without his usual smirk. “I really didn't mean to hurt you.”
Billy didn't answer right away.
Rick took another step forward.
“I really do need your help.”
He hesitated briefly.
“I can't do this alone.”
Hong studied his eyes carefully, trying to determine whether this was just another improvisation.
Rick looked unusually unsettled. There was far too much guilt on his face to mistake it for another trick.
Billy let out a long breath, shook his head, and gave a humorless chuckle.
“Yeah...” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “How does Detective Lake even put up with you?”
Rick considered the question with complete seriousness.
“I think... sometimes he asks himself the same thing.”
Billy couldn't help snorting.
“Fine... I'll let it slide.”
***
Dusk was slowly settling over Dumpfield. The car rolled leisurely through the nearly empty streets, its headlights sweeping over wet asphalt, scattered road signs, and nearly bare trees swaying beneath the cold November wind.
The cabin was warm. The heater hummed softly. An old rock ballad played quietly through the speakers. And for the third time in the last few minutes, Billy discreetly checked the time on his phone.
Rick noticed immediately but chose not to say anything.
Two minutes later, Hong unlocked the screen again.
“If you keep checking the clock every thirty seconds, nine-thirty still won't arrive any faster.”
Billy coughed awkwardly and quickly put the phone away.
“That's not why.”
Rick smirked briefly, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Nervous?”
Hong thought about it honestly.
“A little.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“Because people who aren't nervous before things like this usually don't last long in police work.”
Billy snorted quietly.
“Was that supposed to reassure me?”
“No.” Rick shrugged. “Just stating a fact.”
They drove in silence for a while. Closed shops, occasional cars, and empty bus stops drifted past outside the windows. The closer they got to the neighborhood they needed, the more often Rick caught himself gripping the steering wheel tighter.
Irritated, he loosened his hold.
Billy didn't notice. The younger man was staring thoughtfully out the window, clearly running through the upcoming conversation in his head.
“I wanted to ask...” he finally broke the silence. “What's the plan, exactly?”
Rick glanced at him briefly.
“The plan is simple. Stanley comes out for a smoke around nine-thirty through the back entrance. We walk up, ask a few questions, and leave.”
“You think he'll just answer us?”
“I'd really like him to.”
“And if he doesn't?”
“Then we'll have to improvise.”
Billy closed his eyes in resignation.
“That's exactly the answer I was afraid of.”
Rick laughed quietly.
“Don't worry. I'll be the one improvising.”
“That's even worse!”
Rick shook his head.
“Listen carefully. If the conversation goes smoothly, just stand nearby and watch. If you notice anything strange, tell me immediately.”
“Anything?”
“Anything. Even if it seems insignificant.”
Billy looked at him questioningly.
“You serious?”
“Completely.”
“I mean, I know I've only been here a short time, but something tells me you're a lot more experienced than I am. You'll probably notice everything yourself.”
“Not necessarily.” Rick paused for a moment, choosing his words. “Sometimes the person seeing a situation for the first time notices a lot more than the person who's already trained themselves to look for something specific.”
Hong fell silent in surprise.
It seemed nobody had ever told him something like that before.
“So don't stay quiet,” Rick added more lightly. “If something feels off, tell me right away.”
Billy nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
This time there was no usual hesitation. Still, Rick noticed how often Billy kept twisting the edge of his sleeve between his fingers.
“By the way,” he said casually, without taking his eyes off the road, “even if everything goes smoothly tonight, you've still got one serious problem.”
Billy looked at him.
“What problem?”
“You'll have to explain to your grandmother where you spent the evening.”
Hong groaned softly.
“Why would you say that right now?”
“Because you're already thinking about it.”
Billy sighed heavily.
“Yeah. I am.”
“And?”
“She always asks how my day went.”
Rick flicked on the turn signal and glanced at him.
“Then tell her.”
“The truth?”
“Of course.”
Billy slowly turned toward him.
“‘Grandma, my coworker and I went to a strip club to look for a drug dealer.’”
Rick thought about it for a second.
“That sounds...”
“Don't.”
“...not great.”
“Thank you.”
They sat in silence for several seconds. Then Rick added casually:
“You could say you were involved in an arrest.”
“And if she asks where?”
“Don't specify.”
“She'll specify.”
“Then lie.”
Billy stared at him with such sincere outrage that it looked as though he'd just heard the dumbest thing in human history.
“I'm guessing you've never actually met my grandmother, have you?”
“What?”
“She can detect lies.”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely.”
“Has that been scientifically proven?”
“I think so.”
“So we don't need to buy a lie detector for the station anymore?”
“If my grandmother agrees to work for the police, no.”
Rick laughed quietly.
“We should make her an offer.”
“Don't even think about it.”
“Why?”
“Because five minutes later she'll find out you cheated on a math test in fifth grade.”
Rick raised his eyebrows.
“I did not cheat!”
He shot Billy an offended look, but the younger man only broke into a satisfied grin.
“See?”
“What?”
“You're already defending yourself.”
Parker snorted.
“Smart.”
“Learning from the best.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“I haven't decided yet.”
Rick shook his head, smiling openly now.
“You know... you're starting to get cheeky.”
Billy adopted an extremely serious expression.
“That's your fault. You're a bad influence.”
Rick looked at him for several seconds. Then laughed quietly.
“Did I say something funny?” Billy protested.
“Nope. I was just thinking you'll definitely survive in law enforcement.”
Billy snorted softly and turned back toward the window. The sleeve he'd been unconsciously fidgeting with the entire drive finally remained untouched.
Ahead, between the buildings, the neon sign finally came into view.
The Pouring Apple.Rick eased off the accelerator.
Poison-pink light reflected in the puddles, turning the wet pavement into a smear of watercolor paint.
Even from outside, they could hear the muffled thump of music behind the bar's walls.
Without drawing attention to themselves, he parked across the street, shut off the engine, and stared at the entrance in silence for a moment.
Then he opened the car door first.
The moment they crossed the threshold, they were hit by a heavy mix of sweet perfume, cheap alcohol, cigarette smoke, and cloying deodorant. The music pounded against their ribs. The bass vibrated somewhere deep in their chests. Pink and blue lights made everything around them feel slightly unreal.
Behind the bar, the bartender polished glasses with practiced ease. Women moved across the stage to the approving shouts of half-drunk patrons. And deeper in the room, people came and went who had clearly not come here for the dancing.
Billy stopped immediately inside the entrance and slowly surveyed the room. Then he said very quietly:
“Okay... maybe I overreacted.”
Rick couldn't help smirking.
