It was hours later before Wyatt finally walked into the police station and checked in with the oh-so-very-pleasant front desk clerk. He ignored the stares as he took the offered seat in the hard chair and waited patiently before he heard, "Mr. Palmer, this way please."

Detective Jones led Wyatt down the hallway to a small conference room with two chairs separated by a stainless steel table and an older model TV on a wheeled cart. Detective Jones pointed Wyatt to one chair while he took his seat on the opposite side of the table. He set a pad of paper and a pen down along with a remote control. "I wasn't sure if you were going to show up or not, if I'm honest. I'm glad you did, it saves me the trouble of having to track you down and bring you in."

Wyatt raised a brow as he took a seat in the straight back metal and plastic chair. "I was under the impression my statement was voluntary. I always intended on coming in, on my own. However, when I was leaving my apartment, something happened to a friend of mine and that took precedence. Considering I've already given you two statements, then had to give another just hours ago for that attack, I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible so I can get back to the hospital to check on him."

Detective Jones had his pen in his hand and he nodded once, "Yes, Sa...Miss Marino mentioned Mr. Blackwell's incident when she was here earlier. I was under the impression you were not one to speak to reporters, so I was surprised when she mentioned he had been at your place before his attack. I hope they catch the person or persons responsible." He tapped his pen against the notepad, "Now that you are here, I need you to watch the video again, see if you recognize anyone or see if anything jumps out at you, then you can give me an official statement for us to have on record."

Wyatt had sat there blankly when the detective mentioned Rhonan's profession. He was certain there were other words that followed but he barely heard them over the buzz of his heartbeat in his ear as his stomach dropped to his toes. That had to be a guess on the detective's part, something to trip Wyatt up and get him to confess to something he didn't do.

"Mr. Palmer, are you ready to begin? Mr. Palmer?" Detective Jones rapped his knuckles on the table loudly, causing Wyatt to jump.

Wyatt blinked and nodded slowly, "Yeah...video...statement. Can we get started already?"

Detective Jones watched Wyatt carefully, likely looking for any hint of reaction as he picked up the remote to turn on the television. The out of date tv buzzed when it came to life and then the detective hit a series of buttons on the remote to get the video to load up. Wyatt turned his attention to the television and leaned forward to watch as his dining room came into focus. People were moving around, eating and having fun, then the sudden flurry of activity began. Someone tripped and moved closer to the victim, damn near sitting in his lap. There was a flash of silver before the needle sunk into the fatty folds of the older man's neck. Detective Jones rewound the scene and played it again, this time in slow motion so that every frame remained on the screen for several long moments. "Anything jumping out at you, Mr. Palmer? The people? Method of execution?"

Wyatt narrowed his eyes at the detective. "This is the second time you've asked me that, why would you believe that I know anything about any methods of murder, Detective? I gave you my statements, willingly, let you into my restaurant, and gave you access to my staff, my records. We have given you full cooperation, so if you want to accuse me of something, please stop with the games and just come out with it, then I can get my lawyer here to handle things. Someone was murdered at my restaurant, I've had threats left on my car, on my door at my home, in the victim's pocket, hangups both on my cell phone and at the restaurant, and someone I was with was just assaulted at my home. I'm tired and I want this to be solved and over with so I can go back to my quiet and uneventful life." Wyatt directed his attention at the small camera set up on the desk, "I, Wyatt Palmer, do not recognize any of the people in the video beyond being customers in my establishment. I do not recognize the killer, nor do I know the victim." He gave a rundown of the events of the night and then shot the detective a glare. "Will that be all or do I need to call my lawyer down here after all?"

"Did you say you had threats left for you other than the one in the victim's pocket? Care to elaborate on those, Mr. Palmer?"

Wyatt thought about it for a moment and then shook his head, "With you, no, I don't believe I care to elaborate. If I feel that it's important, I will contact the officers who were at my place today as they seem much more willing to actually listen to me. May I go now?"

Detective Jones sighed and nodded, "We'll be in touch if we find anything. I'm not your enemy, Mr. Palmer, just remember that."

Wyatt pushed to his feet a little harder than necessary, causing the chair to wobble behind him, "Then stop treating me like I am and figure out who is responsible for all of this. I suggest you stay away from Sarah until you do. I'd hate to think you were using her for information."

"You mean like Mr. Blackwell and yourself?" The detective raised a brow in a silent challenge, "Have yourself a good day, Mr. Palmer, we'll be in touch."

Wyatt spun on his heels and left the station without so much as a backwards glance. He called a car service again, despite hating to do so, but Sarah still had his car which left him no other choice. His plan had been to go to the hospital to visit Rhonan, but now he wasn't sure that was a good idea. First he needed to check into what Detective Jones had told him. If Rhonan was a reporter, then Wyatt would simply cut all contact with him without a second thought. As much as he desired the other man physically, Wyatt wouldn't put up with being used or be with someone who only pretended to be interested in him for information. Not that Wyatt was all that interesting, at least not on the surface. If Rhonan started digging though, he would have the potential to ruin Wyatt's entire life.

Wyatt slid into the backseat of the car and sat back, pulling out his phone so he could do his own research into Josiah and Rhonan Blackwell.

By the time the car pulled in front of his building, Wyatt was feeling sick to his stomach. The detective had been telling the truth. Rhonan was a reporter. Or at least a journalist major who graduated top five percent of his class who had his eyes on reporting it seemed. Wyatt had found a number of little articles that revolved around cases his grandfather, Detective Josiah Blackwell worked. He was glad the car stopped in front of his building rather than pulling through the garage, Wyatt didn't think he would be able to face the sight of blood on the concrete from where Rhonan was beaten. Not while his brain was bouncing like a ping pong ball at the information he had just discovered. He tipped the driver and left a quick review of five stars for lack of conversation after slipping from the car and walked through the lobby of his building to the elevator. His phone rang while he waited and MountainView hospital showed on the screen. He programed the number before he left so he could easily call for updates. He pressed decline and stepped free of the elevator before walking to his loft.

Wyatt let himself in, locking the door and setting the alarm before he leaned against the door and let out a slow breath as he slid down the door to the floor. He bounced his head off the door and cursed himself for being so damn stupid. He should have known anyone who seemed interested in more than sex from him was after something more. Usually it was money or favors, neither of which Rhonan asked for. Instead he did something no one has done in a long ass time. He'd shown interest in Wyatt as a person. He pretended to give a damn. Both him and his damn grandfather. Wyatt had to wonder how much they knew. If they were only interested in the murder that would be one thing, but if it went deeper, Wyatt's life as he knew it would be over. He lifted his phone and again went to the website with Rhonan's information and credentials on it. Every moment he stared at it, he felt that sharp pain in his chest. He was so fucking tired of this life. Tired of second guessing everyone, but even more tired of having to do just that. His phone rang again. This time he let it go to voicemail, adding to the countless other calls that came in while he was at the police station. He thumbed through the texts, ignoring all except the one that came in from Rhonan. It was a stock photo of a sundae with the words, 'Don't forget your dessert'.

Wyatt sighed. He was at a lost as to what to do. His mind told him to delete the messages and block the number, but there was another part of him that wanted to talk to Rhonan and see if he would come clean. Unfortunately his track record wasn't all that great and he didn't know which side to listen to. Instead of texting Rhonan back, he called Sarah since she was the closest thing he had to a friend.

Sarah listened to him as he told her everything that had happened at the police station, from Detective Jones attitude to what he had learned about Rhonan. She defended the detective, which told Wyatt she was more than just mildly interested in the man. When it came to Rhonan though, she seemed conflicted. She waffled between trying to ease his mind when she asked if he and Rhonan had spoken about the case, but then quickly planted seeds of doubt again when she brought up the parking garage meeting and then meeting him at the club later that same night. These were the same roads Wyatt's thoughts had taken him but he was surprised that Miss Optimistic, believer in all things true love, was so quick to plant those doubts rather than trying to reassure Wyatt he had nothing to worry about.

Wyatt let out a heavy sigh. Sarah didn't know everything about Wyatt's past or what he had hidden so of course she'd focus on the murder. "Yeah, we talked about it a little, he was there that night after all. As for the garage, he said got twisted around and stumbled on me by accident, then he just wanted to see how I was doing after everything. And I was the one who found him at the club, not the other way around. He was already there by the time I showed up. But what if it is all a big scam with him?"

This time it was Sarah who sighed, "And what if it's not, Wy? Sometimes coincidences are just that. Maybe you should give him a chance to come clean. Then you can see what he knows. If he gets weird or tries to make up some bullshit, then you run the other way. I've known you for years, Wyatt, I've never seen you like this over a guy, not even when that dickhead Mitch was trying to fuck you over."

Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose, "I thought...it felt good being with him, Sar. But what the fuck do I know. You know I have no luck with this shit."

"That's because every guy you pick up is a complete tool who just wants to collect your money. Give him a chance to explain himself. See what he knows at least. You owe yourself that. If nothing else, you deserve the truth."

They sat in silence for few long moments and Wyatt thought she was going to hang up on him. His voice was quieter now that some of his anger had dissipated, "You really think I should try to talk to him?"

"Yes, Wyatt, I do. Go down to the hospital and see him. That way he can't hide behind the phone and you can get the truth."

"Thanks, Sar. I'll talk to you later."

"Later, Wy."

Wyatt slid his phone into his pocket and pushed to his feet. His phone went off again as he walked to the kitchen to grab a drink. Even without looking, he knew it was Rhonan. But he also knew that Sarah was right, this was something that needed to be handled face to face.