The Devil's Daughter

Lead

***Trigger Warning: Mentions of suicide and descriptive details will be used. Proceed with caution

After speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Hayworth, my mind was racing with so many thoughts. If Dalton knew who Parker Chandler was, and potentially where we could find him, then we'd be saving ourselves from a whole lot of trouble. Question was, how were we to go about this?

"What are you thinking about over there?" Mayfair asked from beside me.

"I'm just thinking about how we need to go about getting to Dalton. If he's smart, he'd be expecting us." I didn't want to assume, but what other choice did we have?

"This is true, but shouldn't we hit this head on? At least while we still have all of this fresh information."

"Good point. Let's do it."

...

When we arrived at Huntington Apartments, the looks of the place spoke for itself. I was quite repulsed by the sight, but given this guys reputation, it all made sense. Mayfair and I exited the car, hands on our sidearms. We made way to the third floor in search of the correct apartment.

"Here it is." I said aloud as we both stood on either side of the door.

"Alright, here we go."

Mayfair commented as she began to knock on the door. No answer. We waited for a few moments before I began this time.

"Dalton Hayworth, LAPD! We'd like to ask you some questions." Still no answer. Suddenly, we heard the sound of something tipping over on the inside.

"Shit, he's running!"

I used my shoulder to bust open the door to find our way in. The place was in absolute shambles, reeking of cigarettes and weed. I heard more sounds coming from the bedroom which sent me into high alert. I rushed into the room to find it empty, however, the door to the bathroom was closed. I tugged at the handle but it was locked from the inside. I used the same maneuver as I did before and burst into the room. It was then when I found Dalton choking on his vomit on the floor, next to an empty medicine bottle.

"Mayfair! Call an ambulance, now!"

I turned him on his side to allow the vomit to exit his mouth and flow onto the floor. I used my fingers to clear his airway of anything else that might be stuck in the back of his throat. I recoiled in disgust, but I didn't have any other choice here, it was a matter of life and death. I felt his body jolt as my fingers touched the back of his throat.

"ETA is five minutes!" Mayfair hollered as she came closer to the bedroom.

"What did he take?" I asked aloud, keeping my eyes on him.

"Bupropion?" She half asked half stated.

"An antidepressant? What reason would he be taking those?"

She shrugged her shoulders questionably. Suddenly we heard the sound of footsteps coming through, followed by the sound of EMS radios.

"What do we have?" One of them asked as I removed myself from the scene.

"Dalton Hayworth, 23 years old. Seems he tried to overdose on bupropion."

The EMT's began to check him for any more signs of vomit and side effects. Mayfair and I stepped out of the bathroom as the EMT's loaded Dalton up on a stretcher, wheeling him out of the apartment.

"When do you think he'd be good to talk?" I asked one of the EMT's.

"Not sure. It all depends on how much he took, if it's all out of his system, or anything else that the doctors may find. You're more than welcome to stick around the hospital, but he'll be under strict suicide watch. He won't be going anywhere." I contemplated my options, but figured that it'd be best to go later.

"Here's my card. I need the doctors to give me a call as soon as he wakes up." The EMT took the card from my hand.

"Consider it done. We'll keep you updated." He turned on his heel and hopped in the back of the truck before they tore off towards the hospital.

"What's the plan?" Mayfair asked from behind me.

"We wait until he wakes up. He'll be at his most vulnerable then. We better get back to the precinct to let the others know."

...

We arrived back at the precinct and made a beeline for the conference room where the others were. We walked into the room to find papers scattered across the table and two frustrated detectives at the table.

"Did we find anything else on Dalton?" I threw myself down in one of the chairs as the other two lifted their heads from their hands.

"Define 'anything else'?" Anderson looked as if he'd been here for at least a decade, while Womble looked like he'd been out all night.

"Anything useful?" I replied.

"Just a few expulsion papers, rap sheets as long as this table, and a few other unimportant things. How about you guys?" I threw my head back with a deep sigh.

"A lot more than you guys, actually. Talked to the parents and had a nice long chat about their son. Oh, and we found Dalton. Only problem is, he tried to overdose at his apartment and his currently at the hospital getting his stomach pumped."

"Damn, this guy obviously has shit to cover up." Womble said sarcastically.

"Well, here's the thing. He tried to overdose on bupropion. If you're not familiar with it, bupropion is an antidepressant. That, alone, makes me wonder if the reasoning behind his overdose was because of his parents or because of additional factors?" The two men nodded their head as I spoke.

"What do you need from us?" Womble rubbed his chin thoughtfully, preparing for my answer.

"I need you two to see if he's had a history of depression or any other factors related. I also need for you guys to do a bit of research on his connection with Parker Chandler and Tobias Jones."

"What do they have to do with this?" Anderson asked as he removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

"Well, according to the parents, Dalton actually knew Parker Chandler from his high school years and just recently began to work for Tobias Jones. We're waiting to hear from the hospital on his condition. When he wakes up, we'll head there and get some answers."

"You know if he works for Tobias and worked for Chandler, chances are he's not going to say shit." Anderson reminded me, but I was already one step ahead of him.

"Which is why I'm going to make a deal with him. If he tells us whatever it is we need to know and agrees to testify against Chandler, when the day comes, we can offer him protection. He may not be trustworthy, but if anyone could tell us anything that we might not know, then he's our only hope." I glanced between the three other detectives who shared the same thought.

"Hopefully we'll get a response soon, the longer we wait, the less likely we are to get information quickly." Mayfair said from beside me.

"Agreed."