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STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN -- APRIL 4
2:00 A.M.
Brian

Ten minutes feels like a couple lifetimes when you're sitting outside a blood-covered hotel room waiting for someone - anyone - to come tell you that one of your best friends - your brothers - isn't really dead.

My mind raced through possible explanations for the massive amounts of blood in the room, but none of them made sense except the one answer I didn't want to be the right answer. I glanced at Nick. He was rocking himself back and forth, mumbling. I reached an arm over and patted his shoulder as reassuringly as I could muster with my own nerves shot to hell.

The elevator dinged and a moment later a troop of three cops and a dog entered the hallway. Two of them were wearing gloves and funny suits and one - a leggy woman in a dark charcoal suit with dark brown hair and thick, Clark Kent-esque glasses - was holding a camera and a folder stuck to a clipboard.

The two suited up guys walked past us and into the hotel room. Legs stopped in front of Nick and I. Nick looked up... and it really says something that his face showed no reaction to the tight skirt and muscular thighs that he was staring at.

"Officer Heidi Lennon," she greeted us, reaching out a hand to me.

I stood up and shook it, "Brian," I said, "Brian Littrell."

Nick stood up. "I'm Nick," he said, striking out his hand - she didn't take it. She turned and stepped int othe hotel room, turning on the camera and taking the lens cap off. Nick raised an eyebrow, turned to me and mouthed the word bitch.

I followed Officer Lennon into the hotel room and watched as she snapped a series of photographs, moving quickly around the room as the two suited men began collecting small samples of blood to test. Nick was wringing his hands. After a good thirty minutes or so, Officer Lennon came over to Nick and I. "Is there somewhere we can talk in private?" she asked.

I nodded and led the way down the hall to my hotel room. Leighanne had stayed in the U.S., since the trip to Sweden wasn't supposed to take very long and I was by myself in the room down the hall. We stepped inside and I flipped on the light switch. Lennon quickly perched herself at the small mahogany table and rooted through a small bag that sat on her hip. She pulled out a note pad. "I just have a few questions for you both..." she said, "And then we can get this investigation under way."


**********
Nick

"What is A.J.'s full name?"

"Alexander James McLean."

"Any aliases?"

"I'm not sure. He has a mother and a fiancee."

Officer Lennon stopped writing. "What?"

"What?" I repeated.

"I didn't ask about family. I asked about aliases."

The look on my face must have said it all. Bri cleared his throat. "Bone, FrillNeck, Skulleez, Johnny No Name, Jizzle."

"Dump Truck," I added.

"Dump Truck?" Brian and the officer said at the same time. I couldn't help but smile thinking about the incident that had produced that name. "Long story.

A story that the chick cop obviously didn't want to hear. "When was the last time you saw your friend?"

Brian and I started to share a look.

"I'm going to have to ask you not to do that."

It was like she had slapped me. "What?"

Officer Lennon's pantyhose were seriously on way too tight. She lifted her glasses, pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed. "For the integrity of haste, I'd rather not have to interview you individually this time, but I can't have you doing that."

"Doing what?" It was a sad day when even Brian was confused.

"Collaborate silently through a look," she said.

"We do that?" I asked.

In a happier circumstance I would have made a comment about superior jedi mind skills, but it didn't feel right.

Nothing felt right.

"I last saw him in the lobby," Brian said. "With Nick."

I could feel the woman's gaze. I ran my tongue over my lips, noting that there were several cracked spots. I needed chapstick. I needed to raid Howie's chapstick. It was a sad day when your own band mate could give out tubes of lip protection to strangers but not to someone who was almost blood. He was--

"Mr. Carter?"

I sucked my tongue back into my mouth. I suddenly felt too big for the small chair I had sat down in. I stretched out my legs and wiggled my foot.

"We went to Taco Bell," I said. "We had a smoke on the way there and ordered a shitload of burritos. AJ," a lump rose in my throat. "he asked me to meet me back in his room around twelve-thirty. He wanted to see if farts really do catch on fire."

"Not that again," Bri groan. I was too afraid of getting yelled at by the chick to look at him. I heard him shift slightly. "You weren't going to come get me?" Now he sounded hurt.

"Well, I--"

"After you came back from Taco Bell," Officer Lennon continued. "Where did he go?"

"Back here," I waved my hand."Back to his room. I think."

"You think?" She gave me a condescending smile. "Mr. Carter, this isn't some silly crime show on TV. We don't get cases solved on gut feelings or hunches. We get things done with facts. And if you can't give me the facts, well," she gave me a steely gaze.

"The person who did they to your friend will never be found."

"So you think that really was AJ's blood?" Brian's voice cracked towards the end. Officer Lennon didn't crack. I decided right then and there that she was void of sympathy.

"We rule nothing out. At the moment everything's clouded under a heavy veil of suspicion. Everything...and everyone."