Sincerely

I found Huxley hanging out at a bar, he was a few drinks in but luckily not drunk yet.

“Huxley Fairfield?” I called from behind him. He turned to look at me and the officer from the SPD that I had brought with me.

The officer, like Lev’s boss, was pretty sure it was Deckard who had murdered Carlos so he didn’t understand why we were here. He thought Lev was just aiding and abetting a criminal, but I knew Lev, he wouldn’t just throw justice out the window for his feelings. I had spent enough time with him to know that. If he was protecting Deckard, he was most likely innocent. Meaning Carlos had even fewer enemies than we thought, namely one, being Huxley, his own son.

“Yes? What do you want?” he asked looking between me and the officer.

“You are under arrest for suspicion of the murder of Carlos Fairfield, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you,” I stated pulling out the cuffs and pulling his hands behind his back.

“What?” he exclaimed trying to turn around to look at his hands which I was cuffing.

“I didn’t kill my father, that damn android did,” he commented.

I ignored his rambling and pulled him away from the bar, past the tables of other patrons out into the street. It was a lot brighter outside the bar than inside. I placed him in the back of the patrol car the other officer had brought us here in.

“Are you sure about this?” the other officer asked.

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation before we both got into the patrol car to bring him back to the station.

When we got back to the station, the officer lightly dragged Huxley inside the station. Other officers were staring, disapprovingly might I add, but I had done a lot of things others would consider questionable in my career, justice was just as important to me as it was to Lev, and if what Lev said was true, Huxley wasn’t the one who would need justice, it was Deckard. Huxley had put himself in this position, and what he had done was horrendous.

“Do you want to call a lawyer?” I ask when we finally have him in an interrogation room.

I was doing this all by the book because Lev and Deckard were depending on me. If even one bit of this went sideways, Deckard could be the one in prison and not Huxley.

“This is all bullshit, what reason do you have to hold me?” he questioned.

“A few weeks before your father was killed, he was talking about changing his will because he didn’t want you to take advantage of the large sum of money you would be getting and just blow it on stupid things. You wouldn’t agree to sign off on the new will, so there’s a motive for killing him right there, before you can change the will and you lose your inheritance,” I comment.

“Usually, when androids kill, it’s very black and white, and evident. It’s usually for a justifiable reason, too. Like their owners were being abusive and they were trying to protect themselves. There was no evidence of the android being abused in the home, no blue blood or broken or replaced parts found or ordered,” I explain.

“Are you sure you don’t want a lawyer before we continue?” I repeat.

“No, I didn’t do this. You won’t be able to prove it,” he snaps at me.

“Very well,” I state.

“Where were you early in the morning of Jan 27th, 2053?” I asked.

“Sleeping, as most humans would be,” he states surprisingly calm.

“Where? You have no listed address, so where were you sleeping?” I inquired.

“Some motel, I’ve stayed at so many I can’t remember the names of them all,” he replied. “Call around, I’m sure you’ll find the one I was at. I didn’t have a lot of options after my father kicked me out. I was even on the streets for a while.”

“I’ll be back,” I hiss annoyed he wouldn’t just give me a straight answer.

I left the room, the officer who had to accompany me in arresting Huxley was looking through the one-way window at Huxley. I think his name was Creed Virgil.

“Why are you so sure he’s our guy?” he asks me as I come to stand beside him.

“You don’t know Lev like I do. If he says this is the guy, I believe him one hundred percent. He chased a guy halfway across the country with me to save two little boys, he lives to get others justice, and none of that would get thrown out the window for the feelings he had for them. I believe the android didn’t do this, we just have to prove it,” I state.

I had had to show Lev’s colleagues the note he left of course, otherwise, they would have wondered why I was going after Huxley and not him and Deckard. A lot of them questioned why he hadn’t come to them if he knew, I knew the exact reason, deviants weren’t seen as people, their feelings didn’t matter, despite them having them. I’d seen a few cases of android suicide, it was just as sad as a human killing themselves. What was sadder with them, was hardly anyone cared for them after they were gone, they weren’t given a funeral or grave site in their memory either. Their bodies were just discarded in a landfill somewhere, like trash rather than a living being. Even if it was in a different sense than us humans.

“You should see the sanctuaries some of the androids have built, it reminds me of the places that use to hide war victims that were trying to flee the country, I’ve seen those places, androids and people are being grieved for and grieving. Sadly, the world has come this far and we still don’t know how to treat each other and other living things, it’s a wonder we haven’t destroyed the planet yet,” I continue.

“Come on, we have to find out if he truly was at a motel and check their cameras to see if he left his room,” I comment receding back to business mode.

“Right,” Creed commented, looking back at Huxley. “Where should we start?”

“Huxley doesn’t have a lot of money so we’ll start at the more rundown motels near the city center and go from there. I hope they’re all up to code with cameras or our job will have just become a lot harder if we can’t prove he was or wasn’t in his room,” I reply.

We left the station and made our way to what was the skid row of Seattle, a little motel called Quiet Veil Motel, I already didn’t like the name. It sounded like it’d harboured criminals. There were homeless people passed out outside on the edge of the property, but that was pretty typical of any big city. Creed seemed to ignore them, but when one clearly high or intoxicated lady stumbled around the corner, spooking him, he froze in place, I had to pull him out of the way, by his wrist, so the lady didn’t stumble into him. The lady groaned and shuffled on past barely even acknowledging us.

Creed was leaning against the wall of the motel trying to compose himself when I looked back at him.

“You okay?” I ask, concerned.

“Yeah, I hate places like this,” he hisses quietly shaking it off.

I didn’t know much about Creed, they had just stuck him with me so I wasn’t stepping all over the place on my own, he didn’t seem that opposed to exploring other leads, and he reminded me of an older version of Lev, willing to listen but heavily guarded himself.

We continued on our way to the front office of the motel and entered. There was an android sitting at the front desk going over paperwork. She looked up when we entered.

“How can I help you?” she asked sweetly.

I pulled out Huxley’s mugshot from previous arrests and put it on the desk.

“You seen him before?” I ask.

“No, but I’ve only been here for about a week, I could check our records with his name to see if he’s stayed here before. What are you looking for exactly?” she inquired.

“His name is Huxley Fairfield, he’s under suspicion for murder, we need to know if he stayed here the night of January 26th into the morning of January 27th,” I explained.

“Sure, let me check,” she replied getting up and going over to a filing cabinet.

She pulled it open and started looking through files, probably for the particular day and check-in and check-out records. Most nice places have a computer system for all that but this place clearly didn’t have the money for that, I was surprised they had an android at the front desk instead of a real person but then again with their clients maybe no one would take the job out of fear.

She pulled out a piece of paper, glancing at it as if analyzing it before coming back over to us.

“He didn’t stay with us the night of the 26th but he was here on the 25th,” she replied laying the paper down in front of us, we kicked him out because he was late with his payments,” she stated pointing out his name and the note that said forced removal beside it.

“Thank you, what time was he removed from here?” I asked.

“About noon, he was intoxicated so we had a hard time waking him,” she continued reading the report. Her indicator spins, turning from blue to yellow and back again.

So, he might have gotten fed with not having money and spent the next twelve hours planning how he was going to kill Carlos or found his next place to sleep. I would bet on the first option.

“What’s the next nearest motel or hotel?” I asked.

“Oh, he’d been making his rounds at all the near ones, he’s gotten banned from a lot of them, I doubt many of them would let him in unless he had cash on hand to pay in full for his stay,” she commented.

That give me an idea, we needed to find where he stayed after the night of the murder. If he paid in full, in cash, he most likely had stolen money out of Carlos' house, no one was interested in looking into that house, the man had lots of money, so much, only he could keep track of it. So, would the police be able to tell if any money was missing? Probably not. We could track the money by serial number and see where it came from.

“Thank you, if you think of or find anything else, don’t hesitate to contact us,” I stated handing her one of my cards.

“I will,” she commented in return.

I and Creed slipped back out of the motel’s office and made our way back to the car. As we rounded the corner, we spotted the patrol car and this guy was shuffling around it and looking at it like it was a foreign object. I noticed quickly he was carrying a huge bladed knife.

“Hey, buddy, what are you doing?” Creed called to the man.

The guy snapped around, his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. His hair was crusty and greasy.

He didn’t say anything, he just lifted the knife and charged toward us, Creed was directly in his path.

I attempted to pull him out of the way but the man’s knife made contact with his forearm. I was expecting to see red blood pour out of him but it was blue. Creed pulled away quickly, pulling his sleeve down to hide the wound while I disarmed the guy and cuffed him.

Creed was an android, I wondered if the boss knew or if he’d hide his identity with a fake ID like Deckard was doing.

“You okay?” I called to him once the guy was sitting safely locked in the back of our patrol car.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks,” he commented hiding his arm.

The wound was superficial but it still had to be treated.

“Do you need someone to look at that?” I ask pointing to his arm.

“No, he didn’t draw blood, he was close though,” he retorts.

“Let’s just get him back to the station before he does though,” he adds.

“Sure,” I reply watching him get in the car.

I glance around to make sure there were no other witnesses before getting into the car. No one was around, I guess that was good. I hoped Creed was hiding among humans for a noble reason, like Deckard.