Irresistible (Peterick/side Trohley)

5

Word Count--1262

"We have an update on the case of the Chicago Hitter," A news woman says as 'BREAKING NEWS' flashes across the screen in an array of colours. I hope no one epileptic is watching this.

Andy and Joe are talking about some baseball game that was on last night as they walk into the room Pete and I are in, earning a 'Shh!' from me and a glare from Pete. I turn the TV up louder as the news lady -- Barbara Winters -- continues to speak.

"The body of twenty-two year old Taylor Johnson, who was reported missing three days ago, has been found in the bottom of the Chicago River. Now over to Tanya, who has an exclusive interview with his parents," Barbara says, smiling as the screen flips to a younger, darker woman.

"Thanks, Barbara. Earlier today, I caught up with Taylor's mother and step-father. While his mother refused to speak, his step-father said quite a few things. Take a look," And now the screen switches to a white couple in their mid-to-late fifties. The woman is crying into the man's chest as the man holds her close. There are multiple microphones being shoved into his face.

"Taylor was like a son to me. That mother," The news cast must've bleeped out the word 'fucker,' but you could still see him mouth it, "better hope the police find him before I do, or else," They both walk away with the man practically carrying his wife as multiple camera crews run after them.

You can hear multiple screams for them to stop, but they don't listen as they keep walking. Neither looks back as they both go to their respectable sides of the black Escalade.

"That brings the body count to a total of five. All males that have blonde hair, blue eyes, and are in their twenties, please be on the lookout for a man wearing a 'Bears' baseball cap--" Pete turns the TV off after that. I shake my head.

"We've got to solve this case. It's getting worse and worse," I say. Everyone agrees with me. "Okay, has anyone actually sat down and went through all of the evidence?" Pete rolls his eyes.

"Yes, 'Trick. Multiple people have," He says in a 'duh' tone. I change the question around.

"What about one of us? Did any of you guys take your time and actually look through every file and all of the evidence?" Pete shakes his head slowly, as if he's getting my point now. "And you're heading the case," I say, but there's no heat behind it. Pete flips me off. "So Pete and I will stay here for as long as it takes and try to figure some more stuff out about the case. You guys just go home, because we all know you're going to anyways," I tell them. Andy and Joe nod, laughing on the way out.

"Alright, let's do this," Pete says, getting up and going to his office. As we reach it and he shuts the door, we both take turns grabbing piles of files and stacking them up. By the time we're done, there's literally a hundred files.

"You start at that stack," I point at the pile right next to the one I'm about to claim for my own, "and I'll take this one," I sit down and open the first file, Pete sitting down and diving in just seconds later.

I read and read and read about Bailey Jenkins. Maybe I should've started with one of the first ones. The killer's probably gotten better at it by now. So I close that file and grab the next one that has 'Samuel St. Clair' scribbled across it in almost illegible handwriting.

Samuel St. Clair had just turned twenty-two the night he disappeared. A missing person's report was filed by his mother, Angela, when she got a call about him missing work two days in a row. After searching his house thoroughly, she called the police, hoping they could help her find them.

I scratch the back of my neck as I pause for a second. Nothing yet. I stretch so my back pops before looking back down.

When he was found, he had nothing on, but there was no report of sexual assault. The body was searched for fingerprints, but nothing was found. Although, after a further search, forensic experts found fiber from a belt underneath his fingernails.

There we go! "Pete!" I say loudly, making him jump. He breathes slowly, trying to catch his breath.

"What the fuck was that for?" He asks, glaring at me. I smile.

"There were fibers found under his fingernails," I say calmer, careful not to scare him again.

"Holy shit, 'Trick!" He hugs me, and I blush when we pull away. He does too from the way he clears his throat and turns back to his own files. "Taylor Johnson was wearing a crucifix, which is different from the others,"

"Hmm," I say as I think about that. Joe bursts into the room trying to catch his breath a second later. "Whoa, what the hell?" Andy comes rushing in a second later.

"We.. have a facial.. recognition," Joe pauses to catch his breath, swallowing on air, "on the guy.. that Tay-Taylor was seen with," He gets out finally.

"What he said," Andy says. He has his full breath and hasn't even broken a sweat.

"So Patrick doesn't have to go out after all!" Pete yells in joy. I roll my eyes.

"Guess not," I say, disappointed. "So what's the fucker's name?"

"Danny Dyer. His son's name was Drew Dyer, and he had a boyfriend named Liam Wilder, who was old enough to be his father. Liam and Drew were in a car accident a year before the first murder. He had just turned twenty-two, and he had blonde hair and blue eyes," Andy explains. I nod.

"So what? Why'd he do it?" I ask. Andy shrugs.

"We'll find out when they bring him in later today. Now go get some rest," Andy commands.

Joe seems to have finally caught his breath when he says, "Yeah,"

Pete and I walk to his car slowly. If all goes well and we get a confession, I can go back to Evanston. But do I want to, is the question.

Pete walks me up to my apartment (which is a floor above his), standing weirdly with his hands in his pockets.

"Pete," Pete shushes me with a hand on my lips. His hand moves until it's stroking my cheek.

"You're so fucking beautiful, 'Trick," He leans in slowly, and so do I. This is it. He's going to kiss me. He lets our foreheads rest against each other. "You know, I think I'm falling for you. It's crazy, seeing as I only met you a month ago, but now I don't know how the team -- and more importantly I -- can function without you," His breath is hot against my lips, and I want nothing more than for him to kiss me, but he doesn't. We stand like that for a while.

"I guess that's a good thing, Pete, because I know I'm falling for you," I smile at him. He smiles back before kissing my cheek and leaning away.

"Goodnight, 'Trick. Try not to get more beautiful while I'm gone," And just like that, he disappears. I shake my head at him as I unlock the door.

Here's to another night of confused feelings and bad flashbacks.