"Clay," Yasmine's voice carried from across the parking lot. Clayton needed to leave. He didn't know where to leave her.
"Yas, we need to separate. Get in, I'll drop you off somewhere safe." He could see it in her eyes, she wanted to protest, but nothing literally could stop him from getting her somewhere where she couldn't be hurt. She had a target on her as long as they stood close. Still feeling somewhat fidgety, he opened the her side door for his wife to slip in. Where would he take her? He could go to her mother's house, but him driving would just it away. He peered into the car to get one last look at his wife.
"What is it?" Her question only stung worse as he realized what he'd have to do. After a while whispering, they finally came up with a plan. Yasmine would take the car to her parents' house. It seemed cool, since she hadn't been there in several years. On the other hand, he would ask Nathan for a ride. Clayton could tell she hated what was going on. He promised her he would get her, so this was the best way. The best way to do his research and not let her die. He had to keep her safe.
"Everything's gonna be fine, okay Yas." He placed his hand on both sides of her head as he spoke. Even though it wasn't part of the plan, he still made sure to whisper. It was silent, quieter than what it was supposed to be. But it comforted them both all the same. "I promise."
He watched as his wife's finger grazed along him to grab the keys. Not to lie, it hurt him. He kept his eyes as she moved into their charcoal gray Kia sorento. It felt as if rain was pouring down on him. But it wasn't. He felt as if water was keeping him glued there. Keeping him from saying he was wrong. Keeping him from saying he needed her.
Instead he was covered with droplets. Droplets of tears. Droplets of anger. He took his jacket sleeve and wiped it off before calling his nuisance of a partner.
"Took you long enough," His voice was louder than usual. A clear sign he wasn't in the library anymore. "I decided to get something to eat. So if you're there, you're too late." He continued to go on and on about everything and nothing at the same time.
"Nate," This time, his shaky voice was easy to pick up on. Just then… silence. Natahn was silent. "I have an effed up day, so… just shut up and listen." He felt a bit of hesitation from the other, but eventually he succumbed to the order.
Honestly, it almost hurts to speak. His voice felt as if it would shake and burst from exhaustion. But if he was gonna work with someone, they needed to know everything.
"Sage…my daughter. She,'' He wanted to end the conversation. Luckily, the man picked up where it was going. It felt weird hearing him apologize for being dumb, but it comforted him somewhat. But that's why he needed him. He needed a ride. He needed to be away from the people he loved. He needed to lure her himself.
Nathan agreed to pick him up. They lived in a small town, so going from one place to another wasn't hard. Just time consuming. As he waited, Clayton couldn't help but notice Mr. Richard. He just sat. He dragged his finger along the table he and his friends were once playing games on. Now he was alone. He didn't know, but it felt… off. He could interview him. He didn't have a warrant. So just a simple talk couldn't hurt.
"Hey. Sit here much?" His voice carried through the lot. It truly was like a prison. Not many people visited, and not many people left. However, Hans' eyes only moved to acknowledge him, nothing more.
"Sometimes, when I need to think."
"-Or get off a high." Clayton chimes in with happiness in his voice, yet his face didn't reflect the same. "I noticed you when you brought in Kingly." The guard only nodded to confirm everything Clayton had said.
"So what." His voice was deeper. As if he already had a solution to keep him quiet. Truth was, Clayton hated people like this. People who resorted to violence. Acting as if the person in front of him couldn't kill him with a single blow. He was disgusting and nothing in this world could change that. "Is this your blackmail for information? Are you gonna get me fired, if I don't tell you what I know?" The detective only raised his hands in surrender. He didn't really care about him smoking, hell, he needed one after everything. He just needed a conversation. A bitter, non-respectable conversation.
"Nope, just bored." He lightly placed himself over to sit tight across from the man, leaving him speechless. Silence echoed between them, one from fear to speak, another from craving silence. It all came down to their silence.
"You confuse the hell outta me." Richard finally opened his mouth to speak. It wasn't expected, but finally Clayton had something to combat off of. "Are you gay or something? You can't be right? Your wife was just here." He watched as the man fidgeted with his hand before continuing. He talked long about how seemingly gay Clayton "acted". From the clothing, to the mannerisms, to even the walk just to sit across from him. For a second, Clayton forgot who was the detective. He couldn't have been watching him for that long, right? That seemed gayer than anything HE was doing. Still with everything he was saying, he had nothing.
"How is my life any of your business?" He watched as Hans reached into their vest before speaking.
"Well, I think we should exchange info. You tell me the answer to your question and I'll give you something useful." After the words left his mouth, he pulled out a crimson red envelope with a gold seal. Along the trimming, shapes were used to make the casing look more and more professional. But why would someone need to hand him a letter? He didn't know anyone that fancy. Nor did he know anyone who would spend their time decorating a couple of folded paper. Even though it was decorated nicely, it clearly held something small. The envelope was small and looked like an index card being wrapped around one another.
"So what is it you want?" Clayton watched as Mr. Richards waved the letter back and forth. He knew who it was. There was only one person who'd worn that color of red in his life. But how? How did he get a hold of it? Was she working with him? Did he know her?
"Don't worry," The man clearly recognized the fear and confusion plastered along Clayton's face. "I'm gonna give it to ya, anyways. Just give me some info so I can give it to you quicker." The rest of the time seemed to go like this. Hans asking the question, and Clayton giving some sort of half-assed answer. It wasn't until the flashing of a car bright light that he realized they'd been talking for hours.
Out the corner of Clayton's eyes, he could see a light brown haired man climb out the car. Unlike him, who wore a salmon colored collared shirt along with brown colored khakis. He wore something a little more casual. On his body he wore a Cleveland sweatshirt. Along with normal jeans.
"Hey, Clay." His voice was a whole lot bolder than before. Probably trying to make himself a whole lot tougher than he seemed to be. "You coming?" But instead of giving a sure answer, he raised his hand to send silence to his partner. He needed this. What was it?
After a while of glaring daggers into one another, Hans finally budged. Letting go of a sigh, he lightly threw the envelope to the other's chest. It was clear he wasn't in a playful mood anymore. Either that, or he really didn't like Nathan.