꧁ sᴇᴠᴇɴ ; ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ, ꜰᴇʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ꧂

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two and a half weeks later



GOOD MORNING, MRS. MCKAGAN. MRS. MITCHELL.

Carol eyed the detective warily, but still acknowledged his presence with an apprehensive nod.

Alice, her mother, gave a soft smile. "Good morning, Detective...."

"Oh! Taylor. Detective George Taylor at your service, ma'am." He outstretched a large hand across the heavy wood and metal table.

Alice doesn't hesitate in shaking his hand. "Detective Taylor." She familiarizes herself before dropping his hand. "What seems to be the problem, sir?"

"Well, Mrs. McKagan," Detective Taylor sat back in his seat and folds his hands atop the table. "We're looking for your son."

Alice's smile falls and Carol's eyebrows furrowed. "My.... son? Which son?"

The Detective looks between the both of them, but neither of their emotions give way to anything he's said - which, honestly, wasn't much.

"Michael Andrew McKagan. I believe he's your.... youngest?"

Alice nods, hand instinctively finding Carol's atop the table and clutching it with worry. "Yes, he is." Her voice trembles. "What happened? Is he alright?"

"As far as we know, Mrs. McKagan, your son is alive and in good health. It's who he's with that we're actually trying to secure."

Alice shares a brief, frazzled glance with her daughter.

Detective Taylor reaches for a manila folder that had sat in front of him, untouched since the women entered the interrogation room.

He flips it open and pulls out a few photos. Photos of the last places Duff had been seen, who he had been with, his car, his ransacked apartment, and his official last-known location - the motel in San Jose.

He flips the photos for the two women to see and Alice immediately recognizes Slash in one photo. "That's Saul." She pointed out with her free hand.

The detective nods. "Saul Hudson, Steven Adler, Jeffrey Isbell, and that one." Detective Taylor's finger points at each person and stops on a faceless man.

Alice scans over the other photos.

Every photo with that unknown person is weirdly similar. In every photo, this person's back was somehow the only thing that was ever shown of them.

The only distinguishing feature was his long hair, pulled into a French braid.

"Who is that?" Carol speaks up for the first time since they've arrived.

Detective Taylor inhales sharply through his teeth. "We were hoping Michael could tell us. He's been seen everywhere with the person, but not one witness can describe the person's face. Nothing. It's like their minds just go blank."

"What has this person done?" Carol asks, lifting one of the photos.

The boys were standing outside of the motel, leaning against Duff's car. They all seemed tired.

𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘃𝗲, 𝘀𝗼 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘄 | 𝗶𝘇𝘇𝘆/𝗮𝘅𝗹Where stories live. Discover now