When I parked my Camry, I couldn't help but sneer. Of course, Calvin would live here. If he was spending all of his money on various drugs, he couldn't afford proper housing. Dingy rowhouses lined the streets, accompanied by cars that were older than I was. A dog was barking somewhere, a child screaming from within one of the houses, a siren wailed nearby. No wonder he had threatened Dex, no one would want to live like this when they knew their brother was raking in cash, or at least sitting comfortably in his career and within his hobbies.

I could almost hear Dexter lecturing me about coming here by myself. Many people had this illusion that Canada was a safe, peaceful place. The reality was that every country, every city, had dark corners where crime and devious behavior festered. And this place was definitely an inky spot on Calgary's reputation.

Still, I was no little girl and, in this life, I was going to face a lot more evil than a couple druggies could offer. I shut off my car and stomped up to the appropriate door as if I owned the place. After rapping out three hard knocks, I braced myself for what would be on the other side. The last time I had seen Calvin, he had been red-faced and crying at his mother's funeral. Losing a parent was no easy burden and one couldn't blame a child for trying to escape the pain. But one would have to blame an adult for their actions. He was not that sobbing kid anymore.

The puffy cheeks would be replaced with slurred speech and the inability to move his body as if it were truly his own. He could be moody and volatile, or sleepy and disengaged. Would he be a shell of the man he was supposed to be?

The door creaked open. My shoulders rolled back; a copy of the blurry letter clenched in one hand.

Clear brown eyes stared back at me, widening in surprise.

I had to blink a few times before I was able to trust my eyes.

This was Calvin. This was Calvin? The whole speech I had planned out died on my lips. All of the accusations and condemning facts dried up in the back of my throat because this no longer made sense. At least, it didn't make sense in the way I expected.

"London?" Calvin said, while I stood there mutely.

It jarred me back into reality, back to the doorstep where I stood. "Hi."

"Uh, what are you doing here?"

Well, I had been coming to accuse him of a dozen things, but seeing filled out shoulders, a full set of teeth, and clear eyes, I suddenly wasn't so sure.

"Can I come in?" This couldn't be a dead end. There was no way. I would find something damning. Even the cleanest, most buttoned up people could succumb to the powers of drugs and addiction. Just because he looked half decent didn't mean that he was walking away from this.

"Uh, sure." He gave his head a little shake. "I mean, yes. Sorry, I'm a little surprised to see you here is all."

I gave him a smile I hoped looked genuine and squeezed my way past him. He had verbally invited me in, so it didn't technically matter for legal reasons that he was using his body to keep me out. Before he could even get a word in, I kicked off my shoes and began prowling through the home that an optimistic realtor would call "quaint and convenient."

"Uh, is Dexter with you? Should we wait for him?" Calvin hinted.

"No, I came alone," I stated. I felt like I was blatantly examining the room now, not even trying to be discrete. Nothing convicting on the limited counter space. No little baggies on the damaged kitchen table. The living room was too sparse to hide anything.

"Oh, alright. Is everything okay?"

I finally turned to face him and I watched as his eyes locked onto my hand. Yes, I got him. "Looking for something?" I taunted. Of course, he was. He saw the paper in my grip and he knew, he knew he was done for. How could he possibly think that he was going to get away with doing this to his own brother?

Cheeks flushing red, he couldn't meet my eyes. I felt my sneer returning.

"Sorry, I kind of thought that you showing up here meant something."

"Meant what, exactly?" I pressed. This was too easy.

Though he was almost squirming in his own skin, he managed to meet my sharp gaze now. A sheepish smile touched his lips as if this were all a game to him. "You're just like your mother, aren't you?"

It was a hell of a lash that normally would have been a compliment. My spine stiffened. "Yes."

He let out an awkward laugh. "Well, fine, I was looking for a ring. When you first showed up, I thought it was because you were here to tell me that you and Dexter were getting married."

The air rushed out of my lungs in a single breath. Dex and I, married? The thought should have made me roll my eyes and scoff. It would have two years ago. Now, I thought of my best friend standing under an archway, wearing a neat tux with his eyes locked on his bride. With his eyes locked on me.

I shook my head. "No, no marriage," I sputtered.

"I mean, I just thought that you guys have been friends forever and that it was kind of the natural progression of things. Everyone thinks that—"

"It doesn't matter what everyone thinks," I blurted.

"Alright." Calvin raised his hands in surrender, his cheeks reddening even more somehow. "So uh, why are you here then?"

All of my structure and accusation failed me. the evidence that I had, though sparce, was strong, but evaporated. My mind was completely derailed. "Dexter was threatened a while ago." There was not a single ounce of aggression or assertion in my voice. It was like I was really updating a troubled brother; not like I was goading him into a trap.

But when Calvin visibly paled, something in the pit of my stomach told me that this was not what I had so quickly assumed it was.

"Jesus, is he okay?" Calvin whispered. He carefully moved out of his little kitchen, pulling up a bar stool as if he didn't trust his legs to hold him through this anymore.

"He's managing," I said. I would not give him any more information then needed, waiting for him to perhaps provide more information than a distant, uninvolved brother should know.

"What kind of threat? Has anyone acted on it? Do you know who did it?" Calvin glanced at me and when I said nothing, he let out a curse. "I thought everything was going good! I thought he was finally living his dream!"

"Have you had contact with him?"

"No." His knee started bouncing.

"When did you contact him last?"

"A few months ago," he admitted.

"So then how would you know about anything going on recently?"

"I saw it in the newspaper," he admitted. I watched the corners of his mouth turn up in a grin. "Seeing my brother on the front page in front of that car with his girlfriend, that was something else. It was like everything was finally right in his world."

"The girlfriend thing is a cover so that I can keep an eye on him. It's irrelevant. Let's back track a little bit, the last time you talked to him, what was your conversation like?"

"London, is this an interrogation?"

"Don't worry about what it is or what it isn't."

"Well it's not like he wouldn't tell you. I called him and asked him for money."

"Money for what?"

"Money for drugs, London. Cocaine. Is that what you wanted to hear? Did you come here so that you could take me to fucking jail while I'm trying to get clean?" he demanded. The gentle balance between us shattered. "Is that how you're upholding the law?"

My own defense system shot up. "Dexter received a threat. Do you really think that I'm worried about you shooting up behind a dumpster?" I snapped.

Calvin flinched as if I had unloaded a violent slap upon him, and when the words tasted sour and judgmental, I wished I hadn't said them at all. I had a job to do, not a prejudice to confirm.

"So why are you here?" Calvin said, voice low and far too calm. After he studied my face for a moment, he went still. "You think I did it."

"I can't rule out any possibilities," I said flatly. "Cops operate along the lines of 'innocent until proven guilty' while agents are more on the other side of things."

"I wouldn't do that to Dexter," he defended. "He's my brother, for god's sake."

The softness in him made it hard to push on. But I did. Because it was who I needed to be in that moment. "He's your brother who might have gotten sick of you calling him for drug money. He's your brother who might have said no to you and you just couldn't handle it."

"London, I didn't fucking do it."

"Maybe you just wanted to get out of this shitty house, to a nicer part of the city."

"Fuck you! I worked hard for this house. Do you know how hard it is to get a job when you have a criminal record? This is what I can afford. This is what using got me, but I'm still proud of how far I have come." He slowly rose to his feet. Neither of the Aquino boys were particularly tall, but seeing the frustration and, worse, the hurt, made me want to shrivel up. "I might have fucked up. I might have made some mistakes and tried to handle loss the wrong way, but I would never do that to Dexter. I love him."

"Then who would?" It was nothing more than a whimper.

"I don't know, that's your job, but you're here, wasting time going after low hanging fruit as if it makes you a big hero. No wonder you and Dex aren't actually together. He would never tolerate this shit."

The part of me that had spent Saturdays in the Aquino's basement for family movie night wanted to apologize. If I had let that part of me take over, I would have tried to wrap my arms around Calvin and told him about my mom and that I was worried about his brother and that I was trying to do my best, but failing. I would have said that I was wrong, and he was right, that I was an asshole.

Instead, I shook my head to right myself. "Can you submit a sample of your handwriting?"

"You can have whatever you want, London, because I didn't do it. But I would like you to get out of my shitty house now," Calvin ordered.

I had no choice but to comply.

~~~Question of the Day~~~

If you could design a theme park, what would it be like?