~A Done Deed~

The small looking compartment had a strong smell of old cedar wood, paper and dust. The entrance directly faced the huge desk behind which Dylan was seated. The walls, although they merely looked like thin plastic used to prevent nosy people from eavesdropping, were an off white color telling tales of its overuse. Through the walls, one could see the things going on outside if one peered deeply, otherwise, it appeared to be blurry. By the corner of the room sat a water dispenser with half the content in the plastic gone.

A long couch spacious enough to sit four people or more if they pressed close like sardines in a tin, took the space adjacent the office desk. Seeing as the new man and the teenagers took up the only comfortable seat in the room, Mr Alejandro picked the next seat available; a leather chair opposite Dylan.

Carlos heaved a great sigh of relief, grateful to be spared the torture of having to look into his father's face everytime he turned. Politely, he declined another seat offered by one of the policemen and opted to stand. The questioning began the moment everyone had taken a seat in the different spaces available in the room.

"Officers, could you step out for a bit? Do not venture far. I'll call you if something goes south." They nodded although quite uncertain about his order, they obeyed nonetheless.

Dylan thumbed a big book opened before him, he let his eyes roam about it for a few minutes. Slamming it shut, his gaze zeroed in on Carlos. "Nice sweater. Where'd you get it?"

The addressed frowned darkly at the officer. It was not just him who wondered if the man had gone out of his mind, every other person present in the room thought same.

"I'm sorry." Nicolas spoke up, drawing everyone's attention towards him. "Are we here to talk about his dumb sweater? With all due respect officer, we didn't skip school for this."

"Then, perhaps you'd like to show me how best to handle my job since you know so much. Should there be any wrong in complimenting a good outfit when I see one?" Dylan quizzed with a deadpan expression. He was an entirely different personality the moment he stepped foot across the threshold of this office.

Mr Huerta placed a hand on Nicolas in a gentle manner of reminding him that he was in a police station and should let the man do his job. Nicolas didn't seem to be satisfied at the officer's response yet he refrained from using any more inciting words for the sake of the man by his side. Dylan looked away from the pesky teenager to the solemn one standing a few centimeters to the left of his desk.

"I can see it has a woman's name written on it. Is that your girlfriend?" His eyes twinkled suggestively.

Carlos bit the inside of his cheek in anger, wishing above all things for the ground to open up and swallow him in bits until there became nothing left of him. Of all his humiliating experiences, this was by far the most mortifying of them. Who hired the doughnut?  "It's my late mom's."

He scribbled something down in a jotter that no one had noticed him retrieve from his drawer. He looked again at Carlos, "Where do you think I can find something like it? I need exactly this for my wife, same designs. It's her birthday in a few weeks and I think she just might like this."

By now, Nicolas was trying all he could not to walk right out of the office with a frustrated scream but he couldn't be rude. Instead, he exercised small breath intakes to clear out his foggy thoughts.

There was a loud scoff from Carlos who gave the black officer a derogatory once over that was very similar to the one his father had given the man earlier. "You can't. This is custom-made, specially tailored for her. There's only one of it's kind and here it is. I doubt the peanuts you take home would even be able to afford you this. Reach for something more your status."

"That's fine. Don't you let anyone else wear this? Like your sibling or relative? What about--" He was interrupted yet again.

"I'm so sorry to intrude but can we please move to the thing that matters the most? I'm tired of listening to this idiot yap about his stupid hoodie all day." Dolores was fed up of the whole slow process.

Carlos ignored her protest. "I don't have any siblings or relatives. No one else touches this except me." His eyes lowered to the ground along with the volume of his voice. "It's the only thing I have left of her."

A side glance was passed between Dylan and the man clutching Dolores' fingers. It was then that Carlos noticed the resemblance. He was her father. Mr Alejandro for the umpteenth time, gave another look at his wrist and his eyes rolled far back into his head. He wanted to be anywhere but in a room with wackos of different levels.

But Dylan wasn't done asking questions. "Where were you on the morning of may 11, 2016?"

"Where do you think a kid should be by that time of the morning? Sleeping of course and having dreams of marvel movies." Carlos replied with a sarcastic grin.

The amused officer reclined back in his chair for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. "Interesting. You were in your room, right?" He queried for clarification.

Carlos paused for a beat, his sickly pale face blanching in fear for a brief moment then swiftly switching moods. "I'm positive."

Dylan shrugged his broad shoulders again, returning to look at the laptop opened before him. His round eyes flitted in rapid movements while his fingers glided with ease across the keys on the laptop. The only sound that was audible in the room after the silence was the click-clack of the keyboard as Dylan worked on something the others couldn't see. After what was an agonizingly long while later, the typing stopped and the officer gave Carlos another look.

"Are you sure you were in your bed young man?"

At that point, all eyes turned to stare at the handcuffed person in the office with beads of sweats now neatly assembled on his forehead. Even his father didn't spare the usual look of hate. "Yes, I am."

The laptop was turned and everyone except Nicolas leaned close to watch the video playing. It was a security footage in black and white portraying the cars parked in front of a house. The moment Carlos set eyes on the clip, a wave of nausea hit him harshly, sending chills throughout his body as though the temperature in the room had dropped to a hundred degrees. His fingers trembled but thankfully, they were cuffed behind him.

In the video, there was the figure of a young person in the same green hoodie Carlos was currently wearing and the number twenty two bold on it. The figure was crouching next to one of the cars with all of their attention fixed on its tyres.

"Wait a second! Where did you get that?" Damian looked in shock at the screen of the laptop. The strange movement had pulled all of his attention. "This is my house."

"Yes, it is." Dylan concurred with a nod of his bald head.

"How did this footage get here? I could have sworn that I locked this up in the security room where--" He suddenly turned to his daughter with confusion. "Did you go up there, amor?"

"Yes, dad but I can explain. I was looking for some video when I stumbled upon this. I swear it wasn't intentional. I showed it to Nicolas and that's the most I know about it." She muttered in reply.

Dylan stopped him right before he could ask Nicolas a question. "Before you take any decision, watch this for a few more seconds and notice what happens. You'll be grateful to your children right after."

Everyone became quiet again, patiently watching the footage play until the figure crept away, oblivious of the cctv camera which had captured all the hidden movements. Damian's eyes turned bloodshot when he circled it on Carlos.

"You bastard!" He roared, lunging at Carlos with a folded fist. The officers rushed in as quick as they sensed danger. Fortunately for the terror stricken boy, he could move out of wrath's way fast enough.

"Where were you?" Dylan asked him again, rising out of his seat with arms crossed. He leaned against the desk leisurely but high at alert for any outbreak of violence from anyone in the room.

Dolores remained on the couch, still as a statue, her face set hard. Her eyes barely blinked, pinned to the screen of the laptop despite having witnessed the video coming to an end. Although her silence was alarming, it didn't go unnoticed by Nicolas who quickly slid over to her side. It took a gentle call of her name to have her dragged away from the abyss of thoughts she was sinking in.

Damian was beyond the state of anger but seethed in pure, blind rage to draw blood if it wasn't for the officers standing in his way. Carlos remained immobile with his head bowed. From where he stood, he felt the searing glare and hot anger radiating off the dark haired man in giant waves. Slowly, he raised his head with a sigh.

"It's a good thing you saw it for yourselves. She deserved everything that has come to her."

The livid man lunged at him once more, taking Dylan and the other officers by a swift surprise. "Arder en el infierno!" He yelled in a guttural sound. Refueled by a different wave of murderous rage, he threw his weight, toppling Carlos over.

His fist swung sharply towards the defenseless boy underneath him and Carlos felt the world spin as bright lights and pain exploded around his head and left eye. As the enraged man charged like a bull for a second hit, he was jerked off before he could cause more harm. Carlos winced in pain as he was pulled up to his feet. Pain from his bound wrists and in his head from the blow he'd just taken made his knees buckle with exhaustion.

"What did she ever do to you, Carlos?" Came Dolores' choked words which she managed through sobs.

Carlos tossed her a condescending sneer. "She killed my mother. That's what."

~~~{•}~~~

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