HAL:

Riley and I decide to search around for a few more minutes at Roxanne's plea. I really do believe in her story because of how desperate her behavior is. Either she's a top notch actress or she's telling the truth, is what I see.

Later, we drive her back to Mabel's in awkward silence. Well, to me it is but my angel looks far deep in thought to utter a sentence. Roxanne stares down most of the time I shift my focus to the rear view mirror. I feel for the lady; during my time as a former agent, I understand when someone doesn't fully believe your side of the story.

The cruiser halts next to curb close to the bar entrance. I roll down the window when Roxanne steps out. She turns to us with fists tightly clenched and a frustrated expression.

"You will look into it, please?" the blonde begs.

I nod, "We'll keep a look out for anything in relation to your description. But I have to be honest with you, we can't promise on the results. We've got work on our hands too but we'll do what we can."

Roxanne sighs, revealing an expressionless face. The sudden change of behavior strikes me peculiar for a woman who's been very emotional since we first met her. She turns away without saying a goodbye and heads into the bar.

I turn to Riley who's staring straight ahead with his head propped on one arm; his fingers tap the side of his face lightly. He glances at me, raising an eyebrow and halts his tapping. Jesus Christ, he's adorable when he's lost in thought.

"Welcome back to Earth, babe," I grin. A hand slaps me arm playfully causing me to chuckle. It's obvious he didn't notice the exchange with Roxanne.

My angel shakes his head before I pull the stick into drive. He asks, "Leah Caraway's place?"

"Yup!"

The sun's still up and we have till midnight to question Leah's roommate. We could stay longer but working after midnight in the east part of the city will be more risky.

Riley nonchalantly flips through radio stations. Traffic is going to delay our arrival time. I take the chance to ask what was on his mind.

"Got any ideas with Roxanne's case?"

Riley bites the end of his lip before responding, "I don't want to say it's a case because it is not official. We only have a small amount of evidence to know something happened during that night." I have to agree on the amount. That bullet hole does make me wonder.

My angel continues, "I'm doing that terrible habit of mine. This is not some Hollywood thriller movie." His faces scrunches up into a grimace.

I already know what he's referring to. After sticking together for so many months, I've learned a lot about my partner. Maybe it's because we are with each other most of the time for work or maybe it's because we're dating. He's shown his faults, as did I, but I've come to love pretty much everything about him.

This "habit" is the result of being an investigator fanatic since Riley was a kid, so he tells me.

"Okay. Tell me the fictional scenario," I hum turning my gaze to the road. I can see him fidget in his seat, contemplating if he wants to say it or not.

Riley huffs, "This is just my imagination okay!" I nod with a smirk, assuring him I won't laugh at anything he says.... I'll "try."

I give Riley a second to humor me. "Roxanne is caught in a mafia conspiracy." A snort escapes my tight lips. My angel scowls but it looks more like a cute pout. He continues, "Again, just my imagination."

"But what if it is? Our first case together turned out to be a weird one like some Criminal Minds episode." I can play Devil's Advocate for him, "Our key witness says there were multiple men, not to mention what happened last night."

"If it is... we'll have a much harder time finding out what happened then..." Riley mutters.

Unfortunately, he's right.

We've only had remnants of organized crime activity. The chief has done everything to trace them back. So far, we've only filed a couple of small branches from a much bigger organization. Turns out they are way more afraid of their head honcho that they decline shorter sentences if they were to give information.

Not wanting to dwell on the possible fact, I decide to tease him.

"So you spent the whole car ride picturing an intense Godfather scene?" I jest.

Riley rolls his eyes, "You're incorrigible."

"But you love me," I sing.

I glance at Riley for a second who's facing side window. His hand rub one side of his cheek that are a bit flushed. My angel mumbles, "Yah."

Christ, small moments like these keep my spirits high during rough weeks.

He notices I'm staring and returns to scowling. I only hum happily as I turn right on an intersection. Unusually, there seems to be less traffic here. Though I would love to have a long ride, we have a destination to arrive before the day ends.

Another red light. It's ridiculous how these lights work when there's barley anyone on the other street.

Riley pats my arm, "Hal."

I look at him in question but his focus is on something else. My sight shifts to the black van with heavily tinted windows waiting in the other lane next to us. It's an odd vehicle to use if it has no relation to a contractor.

No I don't mean contract killers ... but in our current case, boy this doesn't look right.

The window is rolled down and drive leans back for his passenger to fire at our cruiser. Riley and I duck right away when the gun comes into view. The side window is punctured with five holes. I slam my foot on the accelerator.

Riley sits up, carefully hunched just in case. I glance at the rear-view window to spot the black van tailgating us. He yells, "We just had a damn car chase yesterday! And those bastards better not damage the car!" He ducks once more when a shot rings.

"Who are they?!" I ask.

"Hell if I know! But I have this feeling it's something to do with Roxanne's case," my partner draws his standard police-issued handgun from his shoulder holster.

I ask, astonished with his actions, "No backup?!"

"No backup," Riley rolls down the window. He retreats in time when a bullet is shot once more. My partner grumbles, "If I can get their wheels."

"Riley, stay in the car, please," I urge. He fires at the van's wheels. The car makes space, slowing down but enough to keep up with us. Riley sits back in his seat; the men have a good view to shoot if he peeks again.

I focus my attention to the road. It's the only way to escape the hostile vehicle with Riley at less risk. I make sharp turns at intersections. The police lights are on but it must look weird for the cruiser to be speeding away while a car is chasing after it.

I pull the cruiser through some one-way streets. A minute later we hide in a narrow alleyway, having the car be somewhat less visible in the shade.

"Hurry," calls out Riley as he hides behind the dumpster. His gun is held in his right while the other has his phone out. I rush to him with my gun ready; for all I know, the van can catch them.

The black van whizzes pass and Riley darts out of the shadows. I follow after him, afraid he's too out in the open. Riley quickly snaps a couple of photos on his phone. He then analyzes his results eagerly. I look over his shoulder.

"No plate number. Damnit!" my partner curses. Riley pulls up the note app and begins typing something rapidly. He glances up at me, "Do you remember their descriptions?"

I ask, "What do you have currently?" He hands me his phone before he starts restlessly pacing in a circle. I read the short description: two white males, one blonde. I add in brunette for the guy who was driving. I close my eyes trying to remember the gun.

I shake my head, agreeing to myself that the whole thing was fast that I couldn't get a good look at it. I place my hand on Riley's shoulder to halt his pacing. I then give his phone back.

As if a light bulb went off in his brain, Riley says, "Ballistics."

"Huh?"

He takes my hand and guides me to the cruiser. My partner then searches around briefly before motioning me, "There has to be a bullet that fell in here during the shooting."

I nod at where he's going with this.

Unluckily for me, I'm trying my damn best to focus on searching and not stare at his ass.

Riley lets out a victory 'yes' under the dashboard but gets up to quickly that he hits his head. I watch him in amusement as my angel runs the top of his head. Riley shows me a single bullet with a smirk.

Turn the bullet in- I frown, "We have to see Vincent huh?"

The son of a bitch should have stick with only cadavers and DNA forensic science but nooooo, he also has to know ballistics and writing analysis. I let out a groan as I enter the cruiser and close the door.

Riley says, "Well, we won't do it today. We still have Leah's roommate to interview."

"You want to do that after what just happened?"

"Why not?" Riley shrugs as he gets a bullet proof vest on. He hands me one as well which I slip on after fiddling with my own shoulder holster.

No longer than half an hour later, we reach our intended destination. A decent-looking apartment stands four-stories tall. It's less broken down than other apartments we've seen in the east part of the city. Not only does it have a decent appearance but the smell does not smell like piss for once.

Riley takes the lead as we head into the apartment. "I already have the room number," says my partner as he waves Leah's file in his hand. We take the stairs to the third floor and walk on the squeaky wooden floorboards to room 342.

My partner knocks on the door three times. We wait patiently in the corridor, silently staring at the door handle to move already. Riley knocks again, "This is the UCPD."

I tune into hurried steps on the other side of the door and the entrance swings open. A flushed chubby Asian with glasses shifts her eyes between the two of us. Her face turns even more red.

Riley continues, "I'm Detective Swanson and this is Detective Berghim. We're here to discuss about the disappearance of Leah Caraway. May we come in?"

The woman stutters, "W-wow. I wasn't expecting hot men- I mean you know the s-stereotype that cops are fat and old- uh um... yes- uh you can come in."

She moves out of the way for us to enter. I give her a smile to see if it calms her down. It only makes her worse as she diverts her eyes and shuffles over to the couch.

Riley and I pull up some chairs from the dining table to sit across from her, seeing that she's more comfortable on the couch. The roommate of Leah's waves her hands frantically, "O-oh I'm sorry! If you want to s-sit in the kitchen and talk there-"

I interrupt, "It's okay. It's okay. We can talk here." The woman sinks into the couch further; her glass slide slightly down her nose.

I see Riley take out the usual notebook to write down brief notes. I glance at the clock to see how much time we have. It's still bright out so we should have time to search through Leah's room.

"I know you've already been questioned by officers already. We'll be repeating more because we need more details. Withholding information will not get us anywhere, Miss..." informs Riley.

"Jaewon Lee, but you can me Jae," she nervously smiles.

Riley nods, "Okay, Jae." He scribbles down her name. "Now I want to ask something that I've been wondering. How does a person like you know a 'party girl' who works at a club?"

I cringe internally; we've got to work on how you deliver questions, Riley. I bump his leg with my own as a silent gesture to turn down the straightforwardness.

A random squeal comes out of Jae.

Well, that was unexpected.

......[(( _ _ ))..zzzZZ(( _ _ ))..zzzZZ]......
A/N: uuuughhhh My heart's been stolen by a synthetic detective. Kill meeeeee before my heart does flips. That's literally what's been holding me back from writing these past few days. *shakes fist at air* Fallout 4!!!!

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