SCALAWAG (camren one shot - sort of)

III - A Trail of Crumbs

Phil Hayes didn't look like a business mogul.

He looked terrified.

His knee hadn't stopped bouncing since uniforms led him to the interrogation room. He alternated between pacing and rubbing at his face. Maybe a little more and a genie might just pop out his ears.

Phil's nerves worsened at Mario's entrance and I thoroughly enjoyed it from my view through the two-way mirror.

The image my mind decided to paint after knowing his background did not agree with his actual appearance. Short and stocky. He wore an oversized polo shirt that did not conceal a beer belly. Blond hair he swept downward then to the side that did not do his round face any favors.

He didn't look to be the type to use illegal substance or sell it.

I had to keep looking at Phil Hayes – dismantle him and his looks – to keep myself from falling into the yawning abyss of guilt that was screaming my name. It got too loud after my call with Camila. I wanted to throw my phone against the mirror separating him and I.

I didn't. I tucked it away in my back pocket.

Jacobs entered, stripped of his usual flair. He was no doubt feeling responsible for how the operations unfolded. In his hands were two to-go cups of coffee, one he handed to me. I took a sip, having little faith it would jumpstart my exhausted body.

"Thanks."

"The crates have no labels or any usable serial numbers. They're checking them for traces of drugs and prints as we speak. But nobody's optimistic about the prints," he rattled off as he stood next to me and I nodded in acknowledgment. "Weren't you supposed to be out of here hours ago?"

"I was making a report about yesterday. And then Mario told me about this." I jerked my head towards the mirror. "I had to see it."

"I thought Lieberman would volunteer to do that." He let out a silent laugh. Joshua might just write a superhero comic about yesterday featuring him as the hero. "Did you go to the warehouse?"

"This morning, yeah. CSU wanted to know where exactly I was when I shot Widow Maker and where on her body I thought the bullet landed. Angle and direction, blood splatter or something." I felt a little lightheaded as I considered what kind of evidence they might uncover through my help.

"I just got back from there. They haven't found any blood."

My head snapped towards him. I hoped I didn't gasp. I couldn't remember if I did. But there was nothing to be done about the brows raised up my forehead and my eyes blown in shock.

"That's impossible." Please be possible.

Jacobs stood with his free hand on his hip, head bowed with disappointment. What he hoped to be his redemption was Camila's freedom.

I was still too cautious to hope. I couldn't remember breathing until he spoke.

"They've tried everything. All the foot traffic messed with evidence they could have used," he explained. "CCTVs haven't been working for weeks, too."

"Anything else?" I asked like my knees weren't going weak, overcome with relief.

Jacobs hesitated. His eyes scanned the four corners of the small room. I could almost see him shrinking as he faced me again.

He inhaled, shaking his head. "I can't find Stew, Serge."

Thank God!

I hated how good a news that was to me. My body could not process conflict because that was not good news for my unit. That was the worst. I ignored the blade piercing my pride. Things would have been much different had the case not involved my wife.