After escorting the body to the morgue, listening to the doctor blabber on about the wounds, and researching the victim, David is driving through the nicest side of town, down the nicest street, towards the nicest house. He steps out of his car and sighs, this is certainly the worst part.

David walks down the stone path and onto the porch, opening the flimsy screen door and knocking on the red-painted front door, taking off his hat and gripping it. There's a shout from inside and then the door opens to reveal a kid no older then fifteen, one that David has seen at the police station before. A trouble-making foster kid. I guess it makes sense, David thinks, considering Luke and his husband may have wanted kids but couldn't have any. Motive, maybe. Maybe.

"Oh god, what now?" The boy asks, already closing the door. David tries to recall his name, it starts with a N... "I haven't done anything, I swear."

"Noah," David sighs, gripping his cap a little tighter. "If your father home? His car is in the driveway."

Noah narrows his eyes, leaning back and shouting into the house. "Pa! The detective is here asking for you!"

A man with short black hair and big eyes stumbles forwards, looking concerned. He sighs at the sight of David, glancing at Noah. "Noah, what did you do now? We talked about this." He presses, Noah throwing up his arms and David clearing his throat.

"I'm sorry sir but... This is about your husband, I'm afraid." David says softly, Marcel giving him a quizzical look.

"Luke hasn't been home since Friday," Marcel explains. "Business trip."

David shakes his head. "That isn't quite the case. I hate to inform you... Luke was found murdered, sir."

Noah catches Marcel when he crumbles, eyes wide with shock. He chokes on his words and shakes his head, clinging onto his son. He doesn't speak, just stares at David in disbelief and probably some anger.

David continues. "We don't know who did it. We're investigating now, but it would be appreciated if you and your son would come to the station and answer some questions."

Marcel smacks his lips, shaking his head and letting a few tears fall. "Y-Yes sir." He stutters, standing up and grabbing Noah's shoulder. Noah gulps, grabbing Marcel's hand. "Pa, are you okay?" He asks quietly.

Marcel nods, pauses, and then nods a second time. "Let's just do as the officer says, Noah. Let's go." He murmurs, his voice breaking and more tears falling. "I-I'm so sorry, officer, I just," He whines, his voice breaking again.

Noah gathers Marcel up in a hug, looking at David over his shoulder disapprovingly. He rubs Marcel's back and then brings him to David's car, where they begin driving to the station. David swallows and hates to bring it up. "Would you like details, sir?"

Marcel sniffles, nodding before he coughs against his hand. "Yes, please. Where did you find him?"

David sighs, but Craig said Marcel already knew. Not pleasant memories, though, he's sure. "Behind the... club he frequented at. He was beaten to death, I'm afraid. But don't worry, we'll find out who did this."

The rest of the ride goes quiet, though there's still soft whisperings in the back of the car. David honestly hates this part, talking to the families, he'd rather stand in the morgue and let the doctor explain to him how brains register pain. They pull up to the police station, buzzing with people and loud noises. David frowns, he's gone for an hour and this happens.

David gently leads Marcel and Noah to an interrogation room, for the pure reason the rest of the building is too loud and overwhelming at the moment. Marcel and Noah sit down on one side, and David the other.

"Mr. Patterson-" David says, but Marcel stops him.

"Just call me Marcel, please." He whispers, still gripping Noah's hand.

"Marcel, did your husband tell you what he was doing this weekend?" David asks, already pulling out his notepad.

Marcel nods, clearing his throat and shuffling in his seat. "Yes, yes he took money from our bank account for a plane ticket and headed up state for a work meeting. I- I don't know why he was at that damn club, he said he wouldn't, he promised." Marcel whispers the last sentence, mortified.