What Lies Beneath

Thirteen

As soon as I entered Lake Bellinor's police department, for the first time in months, I felt like I'd slipped into a state of nostalgia that I couldn't handle. I no longer belonged here. At least, that's what the heavy feeling weighing me down was telling me. I didn't recognize any of the faces that greeted me. Most of the officers weren't even paying attention to me.

Well, excluding a few of them who looked up, noticed me, then scanned me with the same uncertainty I returned. But none of them approached me—and that was as far as our exchange went. Damnit, why didn't I better think this through? My bright idea, or impulsive for lack of better words, was to walk into the police station without advising my brother I'd be visiting.

Around me, the soft chatter faded into distant background noises as I focused on the strong mix of stenches—coffee, food, fresh paper—crawling up my nose. What if Christian wasn't even here? He wasn't answering his phone. For all I knew, he could've been on patrol today or whatever. Possibly handling something concerning Emerald Lynn's case even. Geez, I felt like a dumbass—at the worst time too. This was no time for screw-ups.

"Tyler?" said a familiar voice.

"Logan?" I turned to the side, sighing in relief when I was met with a pair of familiar warm brown eyes too. Finally, someone I recognized. "Oh, thank goodness."

"Are you looking for Christian?" He quirked one of his eyebrows.

Nodding, I said, "Yes! Have you seen him?"

"Yeah, he's in his office. Follow me." He flicked his thumb back, gesturing down the wide hallway behind him. The hallway already felt short enough, yet Christian's office was an even shorter-distance—we had barely walked a few steps into the hallway before Logan stopped in front of a tall, brown door with a glass window smack dab in the middle.

"Hey Christian, you've got a visitor." Logan opened the door after giving the window two soft knocks, causing Christian to look up from his phone. But it was only after Christian noticed me at Logan's side that he shot up from his seat.

"Tyler?" Christian's face scrunched at me. "I was just about to call you back! What are you doing here?" Logan excused himself from the room, giving me time to think up an excuse.

"Oh, well I was just passing through the area, and decided to stop in to say hi."

At first, Christian blinked, unmoving. Then he walked around his desk, pressing a hand to my forehead as soon as he was near me. "Are you sick?" His lips were twitching like he wanted to frown. But instead, they involuntarily curled into a smirk.

I scoffed and swatted at his hand. "Wow, I stopped by to see you and that's your response?" I was full of shit. He knew that very well. He could probably sniff out my bullshit from a mile away. Me taking it upon myself to visit Christian for shits and giggles? We both knew that was out of character for me; it was always the other way around with us.

"Well, make yourself comfortable"—Christian reeled back, propping himself against the edge of his desk—"and don't touch anything."

"Geez, what am I, nine? I'm not Junior. I won't touch anything." Scowling, I crossed my arms, and avoided his gaze; tuning out his chuckle. My eyes shifted around the room, preoccupied with the new structure of his office. The last time I'd been here the walls were painted dark grey and his desk was in the right-hand corner. Now, the walls were doused with off-white paint, and his desk was positioned in the middle of the room.

Noticing the papers scattered across his desk behind him, I spoke up, "Were you busy?"

"Huh?" He followed my peering eyes to the piles of paperwork. At the bottom of the pile, there were a few papers sticking out; all of which seemed to be related to Emerald's case. "Oh, right. Excuse the cluster of mess. You caught me in the middle of something."