“Come on kid, don’t make that face. You don’t need an old windbag babysitting you anymore.” Droned a voice whiskey worn to a deep gravel, as a middle-aged man chuckled as the dark haired man passively fiddled with his nameplate. Plump lips pursed slightly as he slid the brass plate in and out of the wooden block. He dressed to the nines as he soon came to realize in their partnership was always going to be how the younger man came to work, before halfway into the day he would shed the jacket and loosen the tie. Deep black suit over a lilac colored dress shirt, a stark splash of color against the dark material and black tie. Something the man had insisted time and time again that the color looked good on him. What happened to the good old days of if the shirt was clean it was good. Now it’s necessary to do whatever the hell he was doing.<br/><br/><br/>Camren glanced up from his fiddling to look up at the salt and peppered man before dropping sliding out the nameplate before letting it drop into the box with a clink, placing the name holder back on the desk. “I’m not making a face.” He muttered, crossing his arms, glancing away from the older man. Okay, so maybe he was pouting, just a little, but it took him ages to get used to Joe, and there was no way they were going to let him work on his own. Not that this was all for selfish, ‘I don’t like learning how to work with new people’, sort of pouting. He was going to miss the older man. He had been his partner since he was promoted to detective.  Sure four years doesn’t seem like a long time in comparison how long the other man’s career has been, but it still!<br/><br/>“Sure, kiddo. Come on, think about it, you might get some other kid as your partner and you can both run around playing cop and robbers.” Okay, now that was just trying to get a rise out of him.<br/><br/><br/>“Funny, Joe. You know you could have told me you were leaving more than a week ago.”<br/><br/>“And have you make that pitiful look at me for a whole month? No, this is enough. I already have to fend off the pout of a twelve-year-old girl.” He sighed, putting the picture frames into his box.<br/><br/>The made Cam grimace, okay, fine he was acting like a baby, but just a little bit. Just a little. “How is Sandy and the baby doing?” He sighed, combing his long, calloused fingers through his once perfectly coiffed locks. The short, black strands, resisting slightly as the gel gave way to his fingers, sending his hair into a tousled mess. “Did her and Sam choose a name yet?”<br/><br/>That causes a proud smile to tug at the usually strict line his lips were drawn into. His eyes crinkling at the edges as he looked to Cam. “Joey, I don’t know what they are sucking up for, but they decided to name the shrimp after me.” An earthy chuckle left him, a fondness dripping from his word despite the harshness the words would imply. He could pretend to be grumpy all he wanted. He wasn’t fooling anyone.<br/><br/>Camren couldn’t help but smile, the man had opened his mouth. Maybe to save a pinch of respect, maybe to say he’ll miss the old grump. Maybe even to say thank you for all he’s done for him. Though what he would say they were never going to know, for it was at that moment that an officer in her blues came stomping over to them, a look that held equal parts frustration and desperation stood starkly on her flushed features. “Murphy! I need your help.” She grabbing him at the elbow as she instantly tugged on his arm. “I swear to god if I am alone with this guy for one more minute, I can’t be held responsible for what happens.” She grumbled with little preamble as the slightly shorter woman all but dragged him away from Joe’s desk.<br/><br/>“Capry, Wait-“<br/><br/>His protests fall on deaf ears as he glances back pleadingly to the hard man lifting his box of belongings from the desk shaking his head, a bemused smile adding a few more wrinkles to the harsh lines that made up the intimidating sketch of his features. The smile only serving to heighten the visibility of the crows feet that danced whimsically at the corner of his eyes. “Go on Camren, you got a job to do. Stay out of trouble kid.” He sighed, his voice a familiar, fond rumble form the depth of his chest as his ex-partner was manhandled away. Said young man offering little resistance despite his protests. The kid would be alright, that was all he could tell himself as he turned from his desk. It would be easier to leave this way. No long goodbyes. He was getting far too sentimental in his old age.<br/><br/><br/>“Capry you're wrinkling my suit, damn it! Ease up!” He huffed, finally being able to pull his arm free from her iron grasp. It was one thing to see the redhead agitated. She sadly lived up to the red hair firebrand stereotype. How she got past the psychiatric exam was beyond him at times. Though he supposed it was a testament to what she could be when she actually was on the beat instead of cooped up in the station. Though, was this strictly necessary? “What’s wrong?” His tone a bit petulant, as she finally released his arm in front of Blue painted door of the interview room. He straightening out the sleeves of his suit jacket as if to prevent the unlikely event that the manhandling would have already ruined the hard work he put into ironing his suit earlier that morning. One wouldn’t guess by looking at his excuse for an apartment, but he at least took pride in his cleanliness and appearance, even if his hard work was usually undone a bit by his nervous ticks. His hair most of all, but, damn it, this jacket was a bitch to get anything done with it that didn’t include shedding out more money at the dry cleaners.<br/><br/><br/>The woman only rolled her eyes at him, her partner, a tall, broad-shouldered brute of a man, that had the easy lumber and gentle smile of someone at ease with the world around him. A contrast to the partly crooked nose that had seen a breaking more than once. His dark hair cut close, barely called fuzz as the usually relaxed man feverishly rubbed the palm of his hand over the top of his head, an agitated frown tugging hard at his thin lips. Camren was more than sure he had never seen the man upset, let alone genuinely frustrated. His dark skin flushed as he seemed to be trying to bottle in every ounce of agitation that his large frame could hold Which was to say something as the man dwarfed him easily. He all of six foot three while Cam himself fell a good seven inches below him. At least the stocky, freckled woman beside him saved him the feeling of being the shortest in the group. Though that thought hardly matters given the odd sight that was before him.<br/><br/><br/>With little preamble, he found a manila folder held before him, it seemed to take all the proverbial gentle giant had to not crush it in his grip as he nudged it towards him. “I’m really going to need you to take this.” Aiden huffed. “They guy is traumatized as hell and I really, really can’t get through to him. Nothing is working.”<br/><br/><br/>“You’re giving me your case? The one you two practically busted down the door to get?” Confused was putting it lightly as he took the file with a hint of trepidation.<br/><br/><br/>“We thought it was connected to the Everly case, but this has nothing to do with it.”<br/><br/><br/>That case. Camren had heard about it, he and Joe had chipped in on it a few months back when they needed a fresh pair of eyes. It was a gruesome murder, a quaint little suburbia made up Everly street. Something out of a 1950’s Sears catalog if he was honest. It was there in a little yellow house that a family of three was murdered. Husband, wife and little boy. None of it was pretty, the father wasn’t even recognizable after the fact. Fingers, cut off at every joint, same went for toes wrists, ankles. All of which was done before blood loss took him if the coroner was right. That was even before the perpetrator took the blade to his face and other soft tissue. The wife and child, it was bloody, but it seemed they got a far quicker on then the husband. Torture or just anger it was hard to say without much more information. So far the family themselves had pulled up clean. He could see why these two thought the cases would be related as he opened up the file to flip through the evidence photos.<br/><br/><br/>He snapped the folder shut with a sigh. After five years you would think he would be used to it. Though hell, that was bloody. “Look, Murphy, I got a couple of leads on the Everly case, would you please just take this. Everyone already has an open case or two they are working on. I’ll even handle the paperwork declaring you lead on this.” The short-haired woman almost pleaded, glancing at the closed interview door. Oh dear lord Janie Capry using the word please and offering to do paperwork. Either the lead they had was really good or this one was really bad. It was hard to guess, though the way that her partner was working his lower lip between his teeth, it was probably mostly the last point.  “It’s not like you got anything important going on.” Ah, there she is. He was starting to think he was going to need to call an ambulance. It took all he had to not point out that was because his caseload was cleared out and criminals arrested. Though sounding like a bragging petulant child was pretty low on his list of things now that he saw what was behind the tan thick cardstock that held all the gruesome details.<br/><br/><br/>“Alright, alright. I’ll do it. Just who do we have in there?” He sighed crossing his arms.<br/><br/>Aiden nearly looked like he wanted to hug him at that. “He’s a witness, one of the Blue’s found him half-naked in the pantry. He was clean, no a drop of blood on him or any defensive wounds. The only thing was his DNA was on the victim.”<br/><br/>That caught his interest “DNA?” He asked brow cocked. That would be a red flag by any stander of that measurement of what was suspicious in a murder.<br/><br/><br/>This is when Janie stepped in cocking her head at the door. “Seamen. Looks like they were having a little fun and then something happened where he ended up with just his shirt in the pantry and D’loy missing a lot of skin and a few appendages.”<br/><br/><br/>A very terrible impulse caused through him to make a pun, a very dirty pun and it was all he took to not to blurt it out. A man is dead, now isn’t a time to make a joke about having one last ride. Probably wasn’t very funny either. It was made even easier when his brain latched on the name D’loy.”<br/><br/>“D’loy, D’loy? That loud mouth son of a bitch that we’ve pulled in on at least six different cases of first-degree assault and extortion?! That D’loy?!” No one could blame him for not being able to recognize his face in those photos.<br/><br/>“Yup, have fun, Murphy. Remember protect and serve even guys that work for McCall's little ‘private business’” He could practically feel the air quotes around private business. Great, that’s just made this into a four-ring circus. Maybe some god will take pity on him and this guy will give him names and addresses to where D’loy’s murderer is and he won’t even have to dance around McCall.<br/><br/>This was going to be a long day.<br/><br/><br/><br/>It was hours later that Cameron found himself with sweet, beautiful flavored coffee in hand. It a sweet, heady tastes on his tongue as he brought the stark white to-go cup to his lips. The heat nearly leaving his tongue and mouth raw, but it was a sweet feeling all the same as the taste of pumpkin spice and cream mixed with the rich, smoky taste of coffee. Oh, this was heaven. A moment that was his and he would greedily snatch at it with both hands. A lit cigarette in one hand and sweet, sweet life-giving coffee in the other.<br/><br/><br/>These last few hours was like pulling teeth from where early morning had bled away into late afternoon. The platinum blond had been murderous on his nerves. The detective could barely coax his name from him. Even his profession, a male escort, pricey from how he talked about it too. Though that made sense. He was dressed in the clothing that his colleges had been able to find. Tight jeans and a white button up, leather jacket was thrown over the back of his chair and shirt half buttoned. Muscles pulling the fabric taut with every move, but his skin that was likely a healthy tan before was paled only the way that unspeakable horrors could lay upon a man. Though those clothes, no matter how downplayed were a designer, the jacket for sure for the label he was able to glance when he picked the coat up for him when it had fallen when Cam had gone to refresh the young man’s coffee.<br/><br/>With a good deal of effort, smiles, and jokes. Even with just sitting in there at times to let the man center himself, music playing. That was how he broke through the shell shock. The young man had told him the song was god awful and to change it. It was a hell of a lot better than him just staring into his coffee. After that, he was at least able to pull a name, profession and even get some small details. Like how D’loy was a frequent customer, standing appointment twice a week that he paid handsomely to keep him on retainer for the same time and days. Wouldn’t say which company he worked for. Though he at least had enough sense to say he didn’t kill the man. Too good of customer to make it worth it, he had attempted to joke. Though every time he tried to direct the younger man towards particulars of the murder he would shut down. Curl in on himself and just stare at his drink.<br/><br/><br/>He had been about to release the blond to go home when the man threw himself into hysterics. It was the first time a witness had literally latched on to him, to say he was a little thrown was an understatement as the man begged, pleaded that he didn’t make him leave. It took some coaxing for him to even say that ‘he’ would find him. It was most he’s gotten all night. Even if it was just the gender of a possible suspect. It took some effort and everything his degree in psychology granted him to calm him down enough to get him to let his iron grip go and to get him off the floor. He had set him up for the night in the bunkhouse with an officer to come by periodically to check on the man. He couldn’t lock him up but throwing him in one of the extra rooms that were set up for when some officers stayed overnight, was the best he could do for him. He needed more, a lot more before he could put him in protective custody, but that at least he could work around before having to report to his superiors.<br/><br/><br/>It only made him wonder what he could have seen to instill so much fear into one man.<br/><br/><br/>Though Camren’s moment of tranquility was shattered in the span of a single sentence. His body locking up as he wrapped his lips around the butt of his lit cigarette. His back ridged as he sat up from his slouched position as he sat on the bench. He had hoped to enjoy the fall air before he went to the lab. Though that hoped was dashed with the sound of a familiar voice.<br/><br/>“Detective Murphy, I have a few question if I may!” A voice like butter, something every reporter needed, and it were one that this man capitalized on. Loose, ebony curls, styled perfectly, his skin dark and smooth, not even a hint of lines at his mouth or eyes despite being a good ten years if not more then the startled brunette as the man in the blue suit took the bench seat beside him, mic at the ready as his cameraperson stepped out into view, red light flashing away on the heady machine. Mark Philips. A local investigative reporter for the city’s channel six news, and a pain in the department's ass.<br/><br/><br/>To say he was surprised was an understatement. He sat frozen for a few moments as his cigarette hangs loosely from his lips, smoke curling from the red glowing tip. When it dropped it had him slapping urgently at his lap to stop the ash and embers from marring his pants. This only made him regret loosening his tie and dropped his jacket on the back of the wood bench before he had sat down what could have only been fifteen minutes ago. He wanted to welcome the cool breeze happily, now he couldn’t even imagine how he looked in just his dress shirt and vest, black tie loosened around his neck and his hair tousled free of it’s once matriculate brushed back place by his own fingers from when he had been lost in thought. Did this guy always have to catch him when he wasn’t ready?!<br/><br/>“Mr. Philips now isn’t-“<br/><br/>“Mark, please detective.” He said, with all the false commodity that nearly made Cam want to gag. He knew from the first-hand experience that this man was anything but pleasant, let alone a friend. Perfect teeth, so white it nearly put the white shirt he wore under his blue suit to shame. “My resources say that you are the new lead detective on this case. You have had a near perfect success rate since you joined the homicide branch of your department, but I have to ask, what if any progress are you making on the D’loy case. He’s had quite the checkered past with local law enforcement. Did they not deem it important enough to assign this case to someone more experienced?”<br/><br/>“I’m not at liberty to say, if you would like to know about any current cases, please call the Department PR rep.” He recited, a well-practiced line that Joe had drilled in his head from day one and this man five years younger had ambushed them outside a crime scene.<br/><br/><br/>“ Then how about the man that was escorted from D’’loy’s home earlier today? Is he a suspect or a witness. Do you have a description to work from? If you have anything that we could tell our viewers at home to keep an eye open for, I’m sure they will feel all the safer when they lock their doors tonight.”<br/><br/>This is was brought Camren to his feet to glare down at the man. “This is over, if you do this again, I will sue you for harassment Mr. Phlips.” He said putting his hand over the lens, before stomping away dropping his coffee as he went.  Mark’s words a drone that only deepened his scowl.<br/><br/><br/>“What secrets are our supposed protectors of the public keeping? It personly leaves this reporter concerned, keep yourselves tuned for more updates as they come. Stay safe and sleep tight, back to you John.”<br/><br/>Who the fuck called the hyenas?