I was woken up that morning by a call from the police station.

A million thoughts ran through my mind the second I saw the number flash on my phone, causing me to shoot up in bed and snatch it off the stand. I was panicking before the phone even hit my ear; all I could think about was if something happened to my parents, or if Cara had managed to get herself in trouble before it was even noon.

"Hello?" I asked, nervously twisting my comforter between two fingers, breath held as I waited for a response. 

"Emmy?" Griffin's voice flooded through the other side of the phone, relief evident in his tone, "Oh thank God, I was afraid you wouldn't answer." When I didn't answer that, Griffin continued quickly, "I'm not in jail, I swear. I'm not even technically in trouble."

When I had been picturing who would be on the other line, Griffin hadn't even been on my mind. As far as I knew, Griffin was still saying with Grant while he recovered from his accident, so I couldn't imagine why he was calling me. Correction - I couldn't even begin to fathom why Griffin was calling me from the police station.

"Emmy, please answer. I think I'm only allowed a certain amount of time on here."

Through barely parted lips, I mumbled out, "I thought you said you weren't in trouble."

"I'm not, I swear," Griffin said, tone filled with a sense of urgency that only made me more nervous, "I had come up to the station earlier because I, uh, had a few questions. They said I was being, um, you know, like, aggressive and told me I had to leave. I took the bus up here, though, and I'm out of money and don't have a ride home."

All I had gotten out of Griffin's mumbles was that he had gone to the police station (I was confused on what kind of questions he could have possibly had) and now they were forcing him to leave for aggressive behavior. And sure, judging by what I knew of Griffin's personality, that seemed completely plausible. I just didn't understand why he called me.

"Can't your dad or Grant come get you?" I asked, instantly feeling bad when I heard Griffin sigh on the other side, "I'm not trying to be rude, but - "

"If you don't want to pick me up, that's fine. I wouldn't be mad. I just called you because I haven't got anyone else who would come for me."

Griffin said it innocently. He didn't say it like he was asking me to pity him or feel bad, but like it was an honest fact. Griffin genuinely didn't have anyone else to come for him, and he was telling me that. And that made my heart practically break in two.

"What station are you at? I have to get ready, but I'll be there as quick as I can."

Griffin listed off the information to me and I took a deep breath, promising I'd be there before hanging up. I knew that when I picked Griffin up today, I would make sure it was different than all the other times I drove him or picked him up. I wasn't going to just pick him up and have an awkward, silent car ride. I was going to get answers.

If Griffin was constantly going to be asking me for rides or calling me because, apparently, he didn't have anyone else, then he was going to give me answers. I wasn't going to pick Griffin up from the police station without, at least, knowing why he was there. I deserved that much.

I got dressed quickly, grabbed an apple off the counter, and spent a good five minutes searching through piles of papers to find my keys. As I was trudging down the steps, though, I couldn't deny the heavy weight of nerves I felt.

-

I walked up to the front desk at the police station, fingers nervously twisting together as I shot the lady in front of me a tight smile, "Hi. I'm here for Griffin Cutkosky."

The lady - who's name-tag read Nicole - seemed relieved to hear my words. She sent me a rather sincere smile and clicked a few things on her computer before looking back at me, "Oh thank God. That boy doesn't shut his mouth," Nicole turned in her seat and cupped her hands around her mouth, "Cutkosky's ready to go!"

I watched in surprise as a police officer and Griffin emerged from another room, the officer's hands on Griffin's shoulders as he led him over to where I stood. Griffin's eyes connected with mine and he sent me a tight smile, shrugging off the officer's hands and walking over to the other side of the counter, next to me.

"All right, Griffin," Nicole said, grabbing a clipboard and attaching a piece of paper to it. She handed Griffin a pen and put the clipboard on top of the counter, "Just sign this and you're free to go."

I stared at the paper and squinted, trying to read what the top of it said. I briefly wondered if Griffin had gotten in serious trouble and that's why he had been led out by a police officer and now forced to sign something, but he smiled tightly at me and pushed the clipboard my way.

"It's fine," Griffin said, handing Nicole back the clipboard and the pen, "It was just a sign out sheet."

After awkwardly waving goodbye to the police officers and Nicole, I led Griffin outside and into my car. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes; I kept one hand on the gearshift, though I didn't change the gear from park, and Griffin kept playing with his hair, ruffling up the dark blond strands. We didn't speak.

Eventually, sick of the tense air and knowing I wasn't ready to ask any questions yet, I pushed the gear into drive and went off slowly down the street. Sitting in the car, filled with tense air and awkward stares wasn't a good place for me to start questioning Griffin about what happened. I didn't want him to feel attacked.

"Thanks for picking me up," Griffin said, pushing his seat back and stretching out his legs, groaning lightly, "I promise this is the last time I'll bother you for a ride."

Griffin seemed pretty calm at the moment (and, considering how fast his moods changed, I knew this was a good thing) so I let off the questions that had been piling in the back of my mind. 

"It's not a problem picking you up, but I don't like being left in the dark," I said, keeping my eyes on the road, refusing to look over at Griffin. I could feel his eyes practically drilling holes into the side of my head, "I think I at least deserve to know why you were at the police station. I came to pick you up, you owe me an explanation."

At first I wondered if I was overstepping my boundaries. For a quick second, I wondered if I even had a right to question why Griffin was at the police station. I almost apologized - almost took back everything I said and told him not to worry about it. But then Griffin spoke, and I swallowed down any and all of my doubts. I deserved to know.

"You do," Griffin agreed, scratching the slight stubble on his jawline. Letting out a loud sigh, Griffin's fingers tightened into fists, "I never knew the name of the first arriving officer to my mom's murder. It had all been a blur that night, and I was young. When I told you I came down to the police station because I had questions, that was it. I came down to find out his name."

I slowed the car to stop at the red light and turned to Griffin, all my attention briefly focused on him, "And they wouldn't tell you?"

"Classified information. Privacy reasons, they said. I got angry and that's when they told me to get a ride and leave," Griffin's thin lips twitched up into a wry smile, blue eyes colder than before, "I found out his name. They have a plaque on the wall of officers who have done - I don't fucking know - something to deserve a plaque. I saw the name Ruslan Gudkova and then his face and knew it was him."

I couldn't imagine why Griffin wanted to know the name of the first arriving officer to the murder scene. I didn't know much about police officers, but, as far as I knew, the first arriving officer just assessed the situation and called in for backup. Assuming that Griffin wanted more information about his mom's case, I doubted Ruslan Gudkova had much to offer him.

When Griffin didn't say anything, I spoke again, "What, do you want to thank him for arriving first?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Griffin's eyes going wide. His jaw went slack, face morphing into a look of surprise, "Are you kidding me?" he laughed humorlessly, "No, I don't want to buy him a bouquet of flowers and thank him. I want to question him." 

I thought that getting answers from Griffin would make me picking him up easier and feel less like he was just using me for rides. But I was wrong. The more Griffin spoke, the more confused I managed to get. The more he spoke, the more I began to wish he would just close his mouth. I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around why Griffin would want to question the first arriving officer, but I had already started asking these questions and I couldn't stop. I desperately wanted to understand Griffin's mindset.

"Do you want to ask him questions about the, um, case?" I asked, already knowing I was treading on dangerous waters. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Mrs. Cutkosky's murder case was a soft spot for Griffin.

"I don't remember much, but you know what I do remember? Officer Gudkova was at my house less than five minutes after my dad made the call to 911. That screams one thing to me: suspicious. The average police respond time is seven minutes in our area - I looked it up."

I barely had time to process what Griffin was saying before I spoke, "Maybe the officer was already close to you."

Griffin's mindset - his suspicions - about the first arriving officer was nerve-wracking to say the least. I already knew Griffin was paranoid about everything that was going on, but the fact that he was becoming to become suspicious of the first arriving officer was something else. His paranoia was blooming into something different; something that made me nervous. 

"Could be," Griffin agreed, staring out at the road with harsh blue eyes, "Or he could have been close because he knew a call about an innocent woman being murdered would be coming in soon."

I knew what Griffin was insinuating: Officer Gudkova could have had something to do with the murder of his mother.

I didn't know what it was like to have a parent murdered and I knew I couldn't have even began to imagine what Griffin was going through. This, though, the paranoia, suspicions, and questioning of innocent people was something else. This wasn't Griffin reliving the grief over his mom's murder or suffering through the terrible incident again. This was him playing police officer, trying to figure out the case himself.

I knew enough about psychology and Griffin Cutkosky to know that this wasn't a good thing. Paranoia was never good, and when that started rising into full-blown suspicion for innocent people it only became worse. The police never should have told Griffin they were re-opening his mom's case, because now they've only intensified Griffin's desire to know who could his mom.

Despite all of that, I still felt bad for the boy sitting next to me. I couldn't imagine what he was going through - waiting each day for the police to find the man who murdered your mother, knowing he was still out there. I couldn't understand the fear that Griffin was living with, and that piqued my sympathy for him.

"I know this all sounds crazy," Griffin admitted, cracking his fingers slowly, one by one, "but it's all I can do for my mom now."

And because I couldn't understand what Griffin was going through or what was going on in that head of his, I nodded.

"I understand."

</ from here, things are really starting to heat up! I hope you all haven't forgotten about an oven that was left on a few chapters ago ;) also, I know there's a looot of plot and small details to this story, so if you have any questions, feel free to drop them below!

love you guys, thanks for the support :-D