Robert had returned home late at night after the final patrol. He checked the door, hoping it was left open for him. His mother hadn't closed it.
Someday someone's gonna break in.
He opened it slowly, making as little sound as possible.
He was feeling confused inside at what he had experienced that day. So, so many mystery. So very mysterious.
And what were the Winters hiding from him? They always talked about people he had never heard of and then would cut themselves off mid-conversation as if he were a kid that won't understand a thing.
Why won't they just say it? Am I not trustable...?
He opened his shoes and stepped inside. He checked his mother who was sleeping with a low snore, her condition better than before. She had been ill for a couple of weeks and her recovery was slow. He knew his father took care of her but...
He looked at the glass by her table. Empty. He filled it with water from the jug on the side and then closed the glass with a small plate. She could drink it whenever thirsty.
He then went out of the room and walked to his father's room all in the dark. He checked on his father. His room looked...okay.
Guess no temper today.
His father took care of his mother but always felt angry about it. He would not show it directly but when he was alone in his room. Robert couldn't count how many times they had to repair his furnitures. The man never hit his wife but his actions hurt her deeply. But Robert couldn't complain.
The man was a good father but not a good husband.
But he couldn't care about all the things at once—family, friends and crimes. The events that happened that day still troubled him. He closed his father's door.
My mind is so messed up.
He laughed at himself pitifully as helpless thoughts burst in.
I am their good friend. They will tell me sooner or later. Then I'll help them. I'll help them when they give their consent. I am their friend after all. I shouldn't force.
His dead officer's words lingered in his mind, the ancient voice clear in his memory, "Policing is not merely chases and cuffs, it is the quiet discipline of choosing duty over sentiment, where the heart may hesitate but the law rarely does."
Being forceful comes under my duty, doesn't it? I am being sentimental, aren't I?
He decided to have a warm shower. Showers cooled his head. Really effective.
It did.
When he came out of the bathroom with a tower wrapped round his waist after 5 minutes, he was no longer troubled by those thoughts.
He walked to his room then picked up a comb and went in front of the mirror. He looked at his reflection—his well-built figure and then his eyes went to his short wet hair.
He combed his fair silverish hair. Odd colour, he thought. His mother had mentioned that his great-grandfather had the same. Well he felt fine with it. He felt it looked good on him.
As long as my hair isn't greying from the stressful thoughts, it's fine. Hah, what am I thinking? Who cares?
He laughed at himself silently. He looked at his reflection. His smile turned to a frown. His eyes widened.
A person clad in maroon stood still, watching him while leaning on the window glass.
Robert's hand that held the comb now held it tighter, ready for self-defense. His body automatically took a fighting stance, his face completely serious. Then something else stuck his mind. He dashed towards the door.
The intruder dashed after him, getting hold of him the moment Robert had opened the door.
"Close it", the guy hissed. Robert still had one hand on the door knob and the other was being held. The hand on the door knob still had the comb. He swung the hand back towards the intruder's face.
The intruder flinched and stepped back, pulling him with him and making him lose the fighting balance. The intruder realised it was not wise keeping him close so he pulled Robert and then pushed him hard towards the bed.
Robert fell on the bed but got ready to get up again.
"No, no, no, stay down, no! Don't wake them, they are okay. I haven't hurt anyone else whom you are so worried for."
"Who- Why did you break in?" He muttered.
The guy smiled. "Many call me the maroon-guy. No, no they don't. Seriously. Only one little liar does. Doesn't matter. I like that name. But I would like to tell you it's origin."
"I am not interested." Robert snapped.
"You will be. But you would need to do me two favour, detective." The guy spoke and threw a blanket at Robert to cover himself. Robert wrapped it around in a second.
"The first is th-"
"Nobody gave you the permission to talk." Robert snapped. "I don't need to fulfill favors for something I have no need in."
"I'll prove to be really useful. After all, I know everything. I can answer everything." He gave a grin, his dark messy hair falling over his eyes.
Robert raised a brow then nodded for him to continue.
"First favor, you need to confirm that there came no other people dressed in an uniform as mine."
Robert frowned at the question, realizing he must have trapped himself into something really deep.
He gulped then nodded in confirmation.
"Great."