SECRETS IN THE OPEN

(DONALD)

It wasn’t only my office that was unusually quiet, the whole station was; I had just finished addressing the others on who detective Samantha Wills really was, she wasn’t just Dawson’s partner, and now everyone knew that. I had a strong feeling Dawson wouldn’t like what I had done, but who cares; I am the boss, and they deserve to know. That way, they’d be able to show him the respect and sympathy he really deserves. I knew Dawson would stop at nothing to find the perpetrators of the crime, it was the real reason I called him in before he did something stupid.

I had known Dawson for a very long time, I knew how much he cherished his sister, he kept that fact secret because of her protection, but unfortunately; it seems nothing could protect a detective.

My door swung open, without a knock, startling me; I raised my head and my eyes met with Dawson’s, it was blazing with anger and betrayal. He must have discovered that I had leaked his long kept secret.

“I thought it was time Dawson, they deserve to know, so they’d be able to sympathize with you,” I tried to calm him down, but my words failed.

“I do not need sympathy sir,”

“Call me Donald,” I quickly corrected him, the same thing I had been doing for the past seven years, but he wouldn’t just stop.

“You should see the eyes of everyone in the station as soon as I walked in, I resent being pitied,”

“Calm the fuck down Dawson, no one is looking at you with eyes of pity; they’re all sympathizing, you should accept their condolences,” I fired back at him, moving closer on my desk as I spoke with so much enthusiasm.

Luckily, my yell did calm him down a little, he walked over to the front of my desk and pulled a chair and fell into it, gazing at me with disappointment. I heaved a sigh of relief and opened the cabinet underneath my desk, bringing out a bottle of scotch. Dawson and I had had drinks, during good and bad days; today was especially different, but it doesn’t stop us from having the scotch.   

“Why did you call me in?” I heard Dawson’s voice, it was now calmer, but filled with urgency.

I concentrated on filling the two glasses in front of me with golden colored scotch before I responded to his question. When I was done, I slid one of the glasses to his end and took a sip. He picked up the scotch but didn’t drink it; rather he just stared at the liquid as if it was some strange substance he hadn’t seen in his life.

“I’m taking Samantha’s case away from you, another team of detectives will investigate her murder,” it was a difficult decision I had to make, investigating a murder when you’re packed full of emotions would only lead to the worst cases. One might even end up killing a suspect, someone who didn’t commit the crime, and judging by Dawson’s temper. I thought it was the wise call to make, but the problem was, will Dawson ever listen.

The look on Dawson’s face said it all, the instant rejection of my offer; he placed the scotch down on the table, he hadn’t even taken one sip.

“You and I know that won’t happen sir, there’s no way you’d make a decision like that. This is my sister we’re talking about here, I have the right to investigate her murder,” Dawson's response was rather calm, but I knew he was suppressing the boiling larva inside of him and the more I disagreed the more it’d sprung up like a volcano.

“I am the only one who has the right to delegate duties around here Dawson,”

“Then delegate it to me.”

“Your emotions are in the way Dawson, I can’t risk that; you'll have to take some days off, while these detectives find who murdered your sister,” I reprimanded, and that gave way for Dawson’s outburst.

He stood up and banged my desk with a loud yell.

“No, Donald!! If I’m not on this case then, I’d resign right here and now.”

That was the first time in seven years that Dawson called me by my first name, it wasn’t in the sweetest of situations but it did seem better than the honorific “sir” all the time.

No one had the audacity to bang my desk the way Dawson just did, but I had to give him the benefit of the doubt that he was going through a whole lot at the moment, it wasn’t easy to lose the only family in ones’ life.

I gulped down the remaining scotch in my glass with my eyes glued to the fuming Dawson, he was still standing and his broad chest was going up and down. It didn’t seem fair, what I was doing, but it was the right decision to make, however; Dawson wouldn’t agree to it and that would lead to my second plan. Something I never intended to use, it was part of the things Dawson hated, but he’d have to choose between this and that.

I signaled him to sit back down on his chair, as I relaxed in mine. It was really hard controlling a man like Dawson, what he said just now; he was really damn serious about it. If Dawson resigned, there were high chances he’d keep searching for his sister’s murderers without the help of the police, he was a detective after all. And it’d be fatal, if the LAPD lost a detective like Dawson at this point. He was a very important asset.

“There’s only one solution if you must investigate this murder yourself,”

“And what might that be?”

The question came immediately, Dawson was willing to do anything in order to investigate his sister’s murder, but what I am about to say to him might hit him differently.

The only way to make sure Dawson wouldn’t do anything during the investigation is to monitor and keep a close eye on him, and that would mean….

“I am assigning you a partner,”

I said the words and stared at Dawson’s reaction…