"I'm home!" he shouted from the door steps, taking of several layers of coats as his body got used to the marvelous heat inside the small house. 

"In the kitchen." his wife practically sang.

He followed the melodic voice and the amazing smell inside their kitchen, and just stood there, watching his wife sway her hips to the sound of the background music playing on an old stereo they had, finishing up dinner. 

Her hair was pinned up, on a high bun, disguising the white hair near the root. He loved those little suckers. They always reminded him of how they were growing old together and the life they've built along the way. 

"Honey, don't just stare at me!" she whined. 58 years old and she still whines, he thought chuckling a bit. "They are going to be here any time now."

And that was the cue to the doorbell ring. Maddie—his wife—let out a little excited scream and started to sooth her yellow dress, with a bow on the back. He loved that dress. She let her hands glide on her hair, straightening those hairs out of place, and than, with huge smile and a special glint in her eyes, she marched to the door, opening it with a big clop. 

"Momma!" Andy screamed and hugged Maddie. She was more beautiful now then she had ever been. Her long blonde hair was almost at her waist and her big, round belly was very prominent, giving her a hard time to hug her mother. Her big green eyes turned, then, to her father, who just watched. "Come here, Daddy."

They hugged like there was no tomorrow. The family has always been touchy like that, but no one really cared. Patrick, Andy's husband, walked through the threshold and into the living room. "Hello sir, how are you?"

His smile was bright, bringing light to Andy's eyes. "I am good Mr. Horowitz, how about you?"

He laughed and hugged his father in law. Practically family. A little boy hid behind Patrick's legs. It was Anthony, their first son. He was just nine years old, but oh so beautiful. He had inherited the family genes and gotten the green eyes, just like his grandpa and his mother. 

"Oh, where is Gabriel and Karen?" Maddie asked after sitting her pregnant daughter with her husband and son in their specific places on the table. 

"Right here!" a voice came from the door. 

Gabriel was more like his mother. Curly brown hair with brown eyes. He smiled and hugged both of his parents, bringing his girlfriend along. 

"Please, sit down." Maddie said with her wide grin. Karen gave her a bottle of wine as present and she immediately ran to the kitchen to open. 

Anthony was chatting with Karen about something that happened in his school and soon enough he was screaming. "Grandpa, grandpa, come here!"

He laughed and walked to his electrical grandson, jumping up and down on the sofa. "Hey, kiddo."

"Grandpa, did momma tell you?" he asked, making the grandfather shake his head to the sides. "I'm in the football team at school."

Anthony stuffed his little chest and put his fisted hands on his waist, rambling about how he was going to make it team captain. The whole family was paying attention to the little boy that wouldn't shut up, and they couldn't be happier. 

He saw Maddie observing from the kitchen door, her eyes shinning more than they should've. She was crying... a bittersweet cry. 

But it was a touching scene. He had to agree with his wife. Both his son and daughter were reunited with them, with their kids. Gabriel yet to settle down, but Andy had two already. The third generation of the family. 

"Well," he got up from his chair. "I would like to propose a toast. To my beautiful wife, with whom I had two amazing kids that I love endlessly. This is for our 36 anniversary. May we have many more."

They hugged. They kissed. 

"I love you Maddison Rose Jones." he said.

"And I love you, Theodore Henry Jones."

—————————————————————

The precinct was crazy. People running everywhere, robbers coming in, wives reporting missing husbands without even looking at the local bar. Lincoln dodged everyone that stood between him and the interrogatory room, he even kicked out the officer that was using it to resolve a problem of domestic violence. 

He threw Mark on the chair and cuffed him to the table. Jordan got into the room with them and after a long ten-minute-discussion she left, stomping her feet. The detective looked at the suspect once again and opened the folder, right in front of the boy. 

"This is Drew Barry's brain scan." 

"Yes, it is." Marcus said expressionless. 

"Where did you get this?" 

"Drew himself." 

"Drew Barry himself gave you his brain scans? Why? Didn't have money to pay for the tattoo?" the detective was joking, Marcus knew that, but inside his eyes he knew that the man meant something true behind it all. The only problem being... that boy reeked money. He knew as soon as the kid walked into the tattoo parlor. 

"Why do you look so surprised?" Detective Hawthorne asked with a smug smirk on his face. "Didn't know your friend was broke?" 

Marcus was never an aggressive lad, he usually used his words, just like his mother thought him, but in that moment he wanted to punch that smirk off the detective's face. 

 "Broke?" Marcus was almost laughing. Had that guy done any background research? 

"Yeah, the kid was broke." 

"He was everything but broke." Marcus said chuckling. Lincoln Hawthorne learned to hate that chuckle. 

"Do you even know who are his parents?" 

"Of course we know. Someone had to fill the missing report." he smiled. 

"Then you know that his mother is filthy rich." Marcus said "He told me some shit about her new movie and stuff. She's an actress, if I remember correctly."  

"Filthy rich?" the detective frowned. "I don't know what the boy told you, but his mother is not filthy rich. Her name is Liza Barry, she works as a maid for some hot shot actress. She might have served some actors food, but I doubt she is one of them."

"No no no, it can't be." the boy wouldn't have lied to him, he had no reason to. But he had no reason to tell the truth, either, a little voice said inside his head. "That wasn't his mother." 

"Well, she was the one that made the missing report." he calmly said. "She was the one that was crying her eyeballs out and that led us through their house." 

"You need more than that, detective." Marcus King spit the word as if it burned his tongue. 

The detective left the room and a few minutes after was back, with a pile of papers in his hands. One of them was a copy of the victim's I.D."Take a look at this, smart boy. Drew Barry." 

"Fake." Mark knew the detective was digging a cave he would not be able to get out if he didn't do something about this. "This is a pretty damn good fake." 

"No, it's not." he said. "It's verified. We talked to the woman, she said so herself; you are trying to lie your way out of it." 

If there was one thing that Marcus could not stand, was being called a liar. He stood up so fast that the chair tipped backwards, causing a ruckus. "Look here, detective. I am trying to help, okay? This Liza Barry was not his mother. You have to believe me!" 

"All the leads points to the fact that that woman is the deceased's mother, so why should I?" Lincoln asked, leaning in. "Give me one good reason to believe you." 

"You really think I would just let those highly important papers laying around my desk if I didn't want you to find them?" Mark asked with no more than a whisper. 

"And why would you want me to find them?" 

"I am a man of my word. I promised the kid I would keep them hidden and that's what I did... sort of." Marcus said, sighing. "You just happened to be very good at your job and found them." 

"You did this out of conscience?" the detective couldn't help but laugh at the distressed boy. "Oh man, this is golden." 

"I am trying to help you. Do you know any thing about his family?" 

"Mother is never around, father takes care of both younger siblings, don't have any critical disease running around the family blood..." he listed some more things, until Marcus interrupted. 

"If the mother is never around, how did she notice the absence of her son?" Marcus asked. "And how come a maid is never around? Did the father tell you this stuff?"

"He must have not been answering her calls. Mother gets desperate and calls father, which shares the same preoccupation, therefore turning the case to the police." Hawthorne thought about it for a while, dodging the artist's question. "Yes, the father told me all of that, along with medical reports."

"The father... what's his name?" 

"Bill." 

"Just Bill?" 

"Bill Barry, obviously." Hawthorne said shrugging. 

"Obviously?" the suspect repeated, in shock. "Did you, by any chance, see any document of identification that belonged to Bill?" 

"One of my people did." 

"One of your people?" the boy shrieked. His freedom depended on those people and they could barely do their job. "What the hell! You should've done it, your the leader on this case!" 

"Well, I trust them!" Hawthorne fired back. 

"But I don't!" Marcus banged his fist on the table. 

Jordan got inside the room in no time, frantic eyes running trough the place in search of something out of place. Except for the chair, everything was okay. 

"What's going on?" she asked. 

"Nothing, kiddo. Go to the tech room." 

"No." she said immediately. "I'm-"

"Go, Jordan!" Hawthorne schouted. She took a step back, surprised with the outburst and looked at the ground, leaving the room with a low head. "Shit." 

What a douche, Marcus thought. "Detective, with all due respect, this is not right." 

"Shut up, Mr. King." 

"You have to go back there." Marcus said. His eyes were hard as stone, but his voice was pleading. "Please, you have to do it. Go alone, ask the right questions and you'll have a totally different lead."

Something was keeping him from just agreeing. It wouldn't hurt nor take much time... a couple of hours maybe, but that was nothing. But something, a feeling deep in his stomach was keeping the detective from just nodding. His ego, maybe. 

He couldn't be wrong. Not to a twenty one year old that barely knows anything and works at a tattoo parlor. 

"You aren't getting anywhere, anyways." the boy said. And that was it. 

And how come a maid is never around?, the boy's voice echoed in his head. He didn't know, but he would find out. How did he let it slip? Many things have been slipping thought him, he needed to get his act together. 

"I'll be right back, stay there." the detective said, grabbing his coat. "I'm giving you this chance, boy. Just pray for it to be right, or else you'll have some explaining to do." 

With a teasing smirk, he lifted the cuffed hand. "Where could I go, detective?"