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This was likely a poor idea but it needed to be done. Jeremiah was simply tired of all of the small annoyances that were happening lately (pens gone missing chief among them). Things he knew could likely be explained with one name:

Sunny.

Not that he had proof but he would not doubt it. He had, after all, made her not happy with him. The detective lieutenant was plucking up a wrapped box as someone knocked on his door.

"Detective Lieutenant?" a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes?" It was one of the officers that worked the street.

"I brought in a young girl who was talking about Michael Mitchell. She was talking to herself about him being, uh, dead ..."

"What?" The box was slid into a pocket and he was hoping that it was not who he thought it was. "Where is she?"

"In one of the conference rooms? I didn't want to put her in one of the interrogation rooms, sir."

Thank bloody ******** for that, Jeremiah thought. "Thank you. I'll go talk to her but next time?" Jeremiah's eyes went hard and looked to the officer.

"Yes, sir?"

"If you, for any reason, think you have found someone that has information related to that case, call me." His eyes were flinty, even if his voice was even. Still it had that tone that meant there was no arguing. "Especially if this just turns out to be another one of the many rumors or gossip that have gotten around."

Most of which had some kernel of truth.

Office door closed behind him, Jeremiah made his way to the conference rooms. He did briefly pause to get a can of pop and a bag of chips on the off chance that it was not who he thought it was.

There were few coincidences lately.

Catching sight of a familiar dark hair and-

Bloody hell. Really? Jeremiah couldn't smooth a hand across his face, not when he was already opening the door, but he wanted to. Especially because of the fact she had the other chair balanced.

Not even missing a beat, because what else was he going to do with them, the chips and soda can were set down on the table in front of her. Minus the part where he noticed that she was writing with one of his work anniversary pens.

One of the ones that had gone missing. (It was to the point he was going to have to buy his own because of how many had gone missing.)

He couldn't even stop himself. "Really Sunny?" It was not an angry voice, it was exasperated and just a little tired.

Pepsi is terrible.

"I didn't sell my soul," Jeremiah replied immediately, then just closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Right, so he was a big dumb jerk. Good to know. He would add it to the list of things he was.

"I am certain that by pilfering my pens you're losing inches of moral high ground by the second."

"Or something," he agreed. Jeremiah's shoulders rolled and his eye, just barely, twitched.

"I'm actually doing my job." The detective lieutenant stayed still even if he wanted to pace the room. "One of the officers overheard you talking about Michael Mitchell being dead and brought you in for questioning."

Which was- Jeremiah suspected but had not yet gone to Heliodora to confirm that that was the friend she had lost. No, it was something Algie and himself were planning on doing within the next couple of days. It was a weight in his stomach that he would not be able to shake until he had answers.

Ones he would likely not like.

"So what I want is to know if you can tell me anything about that." Since she was here but ... It would require some kind of trade or deal which unsettled him. Especially after everything.

"There is no recording." An instant response. "You're not-" Then he stopped as she continued on, face paling considerably. The sick weight in his stomach got worse, that perpetual chill spiking.

Jeremiah had no response, nothing he could say. Instead he stared at Sunny, his lips pressed into a thin line. Straight for the throat, wasn't that what Alg had said? Yet this played perfectly into his own fears.

His phone rang, still not quite able to get words out. It was pulled from his pocket, Jeremiah blinking as he read who it was. Chris?

"I'm aware. I didn't bring him home, now did I?" After all, Michael had been home and he had helped send him back thinking it was the right thing to do. Hadn't been to look- Jeremiah shook his head and answered the call.

"Hullo? Chris?"

Whatever color had been left in Jeremiah's face left. Blue-green eyes turned to and focused on Sunny a moment before everything clicked back into place.

"You're on the beach, Chris? I'll be right there." A pause. "I can stay on the line until I get there." His breathing was even. That calm that came over him in situations like this. "Just make sure to take deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth."

Jeremiah's gaze flicked to Sunny, eyes gone dark as he stared at her.

Jeremiah's phone buzzed with a text and he pulled it away briefly from his face to read it.



A slow breath was released, a short resposne back typed in before he was putting the phone back against his ear. "I'm not, I promise." Promises were never made lightly. "Just stay there, make sure no one approaches, alright? I'll be right there."

The next words were said as he stared hard at Sunny. "It isn't your fault, Chris, it's mine." Even if really was not in the end, his own- No, this was not the time or the place. A bluetooth headset was pulled from his pocket and slipped on, the speaker briefly muted as he did so.

"You've made your point," he told Sunny, "so you are free to leave and I have to go." To help Chris, to bring Michael home to his parents. He had not saved him, he had done the exact opposite.

Two long strides brought him next to Sunny. The box from earlier, the one he had picked up before heading this way, was set down in front of her. It was definitely wrapped in brown paper, her name written on it. Inside was an entire collection of pens (glitter and otherwise). Done just because he wanted her to stop taking his damn pens.

He would not even bother to say goodbye, not this time. Jeremiah turned on her and headed out the door.

The speaker was unmuted. "I'm on my way, Chris."

There was only a moment's pause, Jeremiah's shoulders stiffening before he kept going.

Of course he would own it. To do anything less would not be him and, after all, there was no turning back.