Justice Served

32 | 4578

Chapter Thirty-Two
Jayce Mirella

The shorter man wore a casual white t-shirt, grey shorts, and brown Birkenstock's with his loose brown curls in a disarray.

The surprise shows on Vincent's face. "Rhys Chandler? What are you doing here?"

Rhys smiles kindly; it was fake. "Dimitri sent me, he got busy with some things back at the office. Since I was already heading this way with Jayce, I decided I'd do him a favor."

I watch Vincent nod in understanding as he looks at me then back at Rhys.

"Thanks, man," Vincent says. "What did I leave at the office?"

Rhys pulls the pen out of his front pocket, holding it out for Vincent to take. Knitting his eyes together in confusion, the shorter man takes the black pen from Rhys as he looks at the pen.

"I'm not sure this is mine?" Vincent admits, unsure.

"Really? Dimitri said you left it back at his office before your leave of absence," Rhys shrugs.

Rhys Chandler, on top of other things, is also a good actor. I expected nothing less.

"Oh." Vincent pauses then looks up at Rhys. "Thanks then, I guess."

Vincent's right-hand touches the door in preparation to say his goodbyes, I panic internally but Rhys swoops in with ease.

"So, how are you? It feels like I hardly know you which is strange considering how we work under the same company. I feel like we should catch up, talk." Rhys suggests. "Unless you're busy of course."

Vincent hesitates for a moment as he looks between Rhys and I. It takes a silent minute or two before Vincent begins to open his door wide for our entrance.

"Sure, why not." Vincent forces a smile.

Rhys responds with a fake smile of his own as he steps into the home with me in tow. Vincent leads us to his roomy living room.

"I don't know how my wife will react to me bringing in a murder suspect." Vincent laughs with good humor meanwhile I glare at the asshole. Murder suspect my ass, the only murderer in here is him.

Vincent takes a seat on the brown armchair to the left side of the room while Rhys and I sit together on the light brown couch that faces his large flat-screen TV. My eyes scan the brown and black mixed table in the center of the room littered with papers and empty bags of Doritos and Cheetos, the thing my eyes gravitated and latched onto was his iPhone 8 that was laying only a few inches beside the empty bag of Cheetos.

As Rhys continues to make useless conversation with Vincent, I glance around the area Vincent sits in. I take in the man's surroundings until my eyes zone in on a picture frame of Vincent and his beloved blonde wife that's been nicely polished. With a clear target in mind, I turn to look at Rhys tapping on his arm to grab his attention.

"What day does the twentieth fall on?" I ask Rhys, giving him an inconspicuous look that Vincent doesn't understand nor notice but Rhys gets automatically.

Somehow, it's like Rhys and I can just read each other's facial expressions and understand each other right away. We're in sync.

Rhys looks at Vincent. "What day does the twentieth fall on, Vincent?"

"Um..." Vincent trails off unaware of what I was planning as he reaches for his phone. Holding it at an angle I anticipated he'd hold his phone in given his posture and domineer, my eyes are trained on the reflection that the picture frame projects. I'm able to see his phone screen through the reflection on the picture frame as he presses the four-digit code in.