𝘚𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘐𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥.

Wrong Idea.

"Mr. Heathcliff. Pleasure to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you also, Detective."

"What may I call you?..Just incase I forget to say Mr. Heathcliff?"

"Just call me..Dutch, Detective."

"So, would you tell me what's going on so I have a clear picture."

"My son, Mark? He's been held for ransom, though we still have no idea who has him. They ask for money by Friday and for each hour we don't give it to them, they'll torture him for that hour."

"My..That's horrible."

"Mhm. Look, Sarah. May I see your phone?"

"Of course, Father."

Sarah gave Dutch her phone, and handed it to Dave who inspected the pictures..

There was one, one with him tied up a chair and blindfolded.

Though there was another one that caught his eye.

There was two people, he knew by the hand on Marks shoulder from the back, the same person also held a nailgun to his neck. So the other person must be taking the picture..

He looked closely, white suit. Tan skin.

"I must thank you, Detective..I don't know what our family would do without you." Sarah said.

"It's what I do, but I must head home for the day, this case will be worked on tomorrow."

"Thank you, Detective!"

They all waved goodbye as Dave left the station, getting into his car and going to his house.

Luckily, they moved Mark to Cesar's house. They're lucky nobody saw. People in Mandela are so fucking stupid, it's insane.

"Uuugghhh..I'm home."

"Hey, Dave! How was your day?"

"Tiring."

"I bet. I met Sarah at the station today. She told me about Mark."

"Yeah, it's horrible what happened."

"Yeah..Horrible."

Thatcher clutched the phone in his hand, putting it in his pocket.

"I'm gonna go take a shower real quick. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Take your time, I just gonna clean something."

Dave went upstairs, Thatcher watched.

He picked up a bloodied knife, and ran it under the water, washing it until there wasn't a trace left.

He was still surprised nobody found out, I mean you'd think they'd have some sorta back up better than the police. Since, y'know. They're really fuckin rich.

He took out his own phone and texted Cesar.

[ "I'm surprised they haven't found out yet." ]

[ "ikr! I'm soooo surprised. People in mandela are really fucking stupid! ]

[ " Not even Dave knows." ]

[ " not even him? I thought he was some sorta detective " ]

[ " As you said, everyone here is stupid."

Thatcher put his phone in his pocket and smiled. Sitting on the couch and turning on the tv, waiting for Dave to come back down.

He eventually did, sitting down next to him.

"Soooo, what'd you do today except go to the Station, Lieutenant?"

Thatcher froze up. He didn't know what to say, he'd really just been out killing few people, and focusing on Mark and making him lose his mind.

"Oh!-..I..Uhm..Well, of course I went to work today..Filled out some papers n stuff. Came home before you so I slept."

"Ah, well at least you got to sleep."

"Yeah, I'm pretty lucky"

Well, Thatcher did go to work. That was the truth..That's the only truthful thing.

"Speaking of the case..Do you know anything about Mark? Or the Banquette?"

"T-The Banquette? I don't really remember because I was..Uh..Drunk! I got pretty drunk so I left early."

"Is that it?"

"Pfft, what's this? An interrogation?" Thatcher said, nervously chuckling. Avoiding the question.

Dave chuckled too, the atmosphere felt thicker than usual..It's like he knew. But he obviously didn't..He couldn't know. Thatcher would lose his status immediately.

"You alright, LT?"

"I'm fine, Dave."

He if knew, he'd have to be gotten rid of immediately. No excuses..At all. He couldn't lose the status he has now over some Detective..That was his best friend. And has been his best friend for years..

This was definitely gonna be a lot harder than he thought if Dave somehow found out.