The Pseudo Semicolon

CHAPTER 15: A Foe Disguised as A Friend

Apparently, it was common for two teenagers to turn up in a police station, shivering and pale because none of the police officers gave them the time of their day.

"But you don't understand—it's really important." Devland insisted sharply as he glared at the glossy-eyed police officer with her perky ponytail. He wanted to yank it as hard as he could because the woman seemed to not care at all about what he wanted to say.

"I'm sure it's important, kiddo." She drawled which made Devland even more frustrated.

On one hand, he understood why the officer was being indifferent, lots of pranks were pulled by teenagers and they couldn't afford to waste their time on such stupid behaviour, but right now, Devland felt like storming up to the Captain's office and demanding his attention.

He sat down beside Akira, clutching the bag containing evidence tightly. "No one is listening to me."

Akira was still for a moment, before sighing and getting up from his seat.

"Hey where are you going—?" Devland was cut short when Akira approached a man clad in blue. He flashed a bright grin at the man as the other's eyes dawned with recognition.

"Hey constable." Akira said breezily and Devland forced himself to keep his jaw from dropping on the floor, "Any chance the Captain's in today?"

"Akira, what the fuck did you do now?" The constable groaned into his palms. He was slightly pudgy, with close cropped black hair and dark skin. He glared at Akira before noticing that Devland was with him too. "Damien Beckett's son? Are you serious?"

"It just happened." Akira looked guilty, training his eyes on the floor.

Devland still couldn't process what was happening. How did Akira know the constable? What the fuck was going on? How—

Wait.

Devland seemed to understand what Akira was doing, piecing together some things in his head. He stepped forward, prepared to recite the proper lines. "Officer, he stole from me!"

"Yes I understand sir, why don't we head to my office?" The man rubbed his temples, shooting a quick glare in Akira's direction.

"What did you steal, Mr. Fukumoto?" The constable snapped as they made their way towards his office. Akira gave Devland a quick wink.

"I didn't steal anything! They were mine to begin with." Akira protested as they stood in front of a tiny desk at the corner of the room. Devland managed to take in some details; stacks of files, reports, a monitor, a coffee mug, a framed portrait of the constable with his husband and two children.

"Cough it up, kid." the constable's eyes narrowed.

"No! They're mine!"

"They're not!" Devland intervened, glaring murderously at Akira, "He stole my phone—" He discreetly touched his fingertips on his right pocket, but was shocked to find that there was nothing there. That bitch actually robbed him. He checked his wrist, " —my watch?!"

"No!" Akira denied though Devland noticed the smirk he was biting back. "You stole from me."

"Kid..." The constable—Constable John as the plaque said—rubbed his face, "...We all know you're lying. Give it back please, unless you want another one-on-one with the Sheriff."

"I told you, I didn't steal anything." Akira insisted and then pointed at Devland, "He's lying!"

"I—" Devland sputtered, a bit annoyed that Akira had actually managed to rob him, "Officer John you can't possibly believe the absolute bullshit this guy is spouting!"

"Trust me, I don't." John sighed, "Guess we have to wait for the Sheriff to come."

And the teenagers stood there, glaring at each other until the Sheriff finally arrived. It was a balding man with black hair and dark skin and a solemn expression settled on his face. He also had startling hazel eyes. Now where have I seen him before?

The Sheriff took one look at Akira and Devland before sighing, "Come with me."

"You're welcome." Akira whispered in Devland's ear as they followed the Sheriff into his office. It was pale blue, with many medals and certificates hanging from its walls. His sleek mahogany desk were organised; stacks of carefully arranged files, different stationary items in the pen stand, a paperweight, everything necessary.

"Now Akira, what did you do?" The Sheriff asked, his tone placid.

"I robbed him." Akira freely admitted as Devland gazed curiously at the Sheriff. He felt something in his gut, something telling him to leave. Something was wrong.

The Sheriff groaned and extended his arm for the items. Akira gave back Devland's phone, watch, pocket knife (How the fuck? — those were inside my bag—) and finally, a wad of cash that Devland had kept inside his bag for emergencies.

Akira ignored the daggers that Devland was shooting in his way.

"Are these yours, son?" The Sheriff asked, his eyebrows raised at the pocket knife.

"Y–yes, Sheriff...?" Devland trailed off, though his attention was barely focused on the officer as his eyes wandered through the room, inspecting the certificate and the trophies.

"Sheriff Jeffords."

"Right—thank you Sheriff Jeffords."

"A pocket knife?" The Sheriff asked pointedly as Devland hurried to put the stolen things back where they used to be, his mind going at frightening speeds. He was trying to connect something, trying to connect some dots. Sheriff Jeffords? No that was wrong—that can't be—why can't that be possible? What am I missing?

His eyes. Where have I seen them before?

'You're panicking for no reason, lots of people have hazel eyes.' Another voice piped up. He filtered out the man's voice as he lectured Akira, desperately scanning the certificates.

Oh.

His eyes landed on one particular certificate, honing in on the name written there. "I thought your name was Sheriff Jeffords?"

The Sheriff was cut off from his lecture, his eyebrows furrowing, "But it is?"

"Jeffords... does that name belong to your wife? Husband? Spouse?" Devland suggested, dread trickling into his mind as he realised the hopelessness of his situation.

"It belongs to my husband." The Sheriff explained, "My real name is—"

"Sheriff Davenport." Devland whispered.

"Yes." His voice was laced with confusion, "Is there a problem, Mr. Beckett?"

"Nope. Not. At. All."