“What are you afraid of?” Sloane asked gently.
Dex worried his bottom lip with his teeth. His brows furrowed, and he rubbed at his eyes. He turned to face Sloane, and Sloane could see how hard he was fighting his emotions.
“What if they weren’t the people I thought they were? My dad was my hero. My mom, she was….” A tear rolled down his cheek, and he quickly brushed it aside. “What if everything I remember about them is a lie? What if it was all bullshit?”
“Dex….”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about this. About TIN, Shultzon, my joining the THIRDS when I did. Don’t you think it’s all a little suspect?”
Sloane stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s like everything I’ve done has led me here to this moment, to these exact events. I can’t explain it, but I feel like there’s something bigger going on. My first case with the THIRDS concerned Pearce, who happened to lead us to Shultzon, who ran the First Gen Research Facility where you grew up, and for some reason Shultzon deemed my parents enough of a threat to have them killed. My mom had some kind of file that no one seems to know anything about. What if everything is somehow connected?”
“What if it is?” Sloane asked, standing. He walked over to Dex and pulled him close. “That’s not going to mean your parents loved you any less. From what I’ve heard about them from you, from Maddock, they adored you, Dex. Whatever happened to them, whatever the reason behind their deaths, you were their son, and they loved you.”
Dex closed his eyes and nodded, allowing Sloane to pull him into his arms. Sloane held him, offering comfort. Family was important to Dex. It was the one thing he felt the strongest about. His family meant everything to him. It drove him.
“You’re afraid to find out the truth. Afraid of what it might mean for you now.” Sloane pulled back enough to plant a kiss on Dex’s cheek. “Listen to me. Whatever you find out, it won’t change how they loved you. It won’t change the amazing man you are, and it certainly won’t change how much I, Tony, or Cael love you. We’re your family, Dex, and we’ll be here to face whatever comes our way, right at your side. You’re the bravest man I know. You can do this.”
Dex nodded, a small smile coming onto his face. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am. I’m always right, remember?”
Dex laughed, and Sloane brushed his thumb across his cheek before kissing his lips. It was a sweet, tender kiss, one he wished could go on for much longer. When he pulled away, his heart swelled at the vibrant light in those amazing eyes.
“There you are.”
Dex smiled warmly, causing little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Hi.”
As much as Sloane wished they could stay like this all day, they had to get back to work. As if sensing his thoughts, Dex nodded toward the door.
“It’s okay. Duty calls. I’m good. Promise.”
“If at any point you’re not, you tell me, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Dex resumed his seat behind his desk, and Sloane took their office off privacy mode. He’d wheeled his chair back to his desk when Maddock’s voice came over his earpiece.
“Sloane?”
“Yes, Sarge.”
“Reynolds is ready for you. Interrogation room A7. Send Dex down to Hudson’s lab. He has some results for us.”
“Copy that. On my way. I’ll relay the information to Dex.” He disconnected with Maddock and motioned toward the door. “Reynolds is ready for questioning. Hudson’s got some results for us. Sarge wants you to pick it up from the lab.”
Dex gave him a nod, and Sloane left their office to head to the elevator. The interrogation rooms were on the first floor near processing. Cael and Rosa were out questioning the Reynoldses’ coworkers, friends, and family. The information would appear on the file as they filed it. By now Sloane should have a better idea about the kind of man Dylan Reynolds was and what might prompt him to kill his wife in such a brutal manner.
Reaching the assigned interrogation room, Sloane nodded to the two Defense agents from Unit Beta keeping guard on either side before he went into the room. Dylan Reynolds looked like he was barely holding it together. Sloane took a seat across from him. It was hard for Sloane to picture the man as a murderer, seeing him looking so shattered. He’d clearly been crying. His nose was red, his face flushed, his eyes bloodshot and puffy.
“Dylan, my name is Sloane Brodie. I’m the Team Leader for Destructive Delta, the team that brought you in. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“I didn’t kill her,” Dylan murmured. He appeared dazed, his head lowered and his gaze on nothing in particular.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Sloane drew his tablet out from his tac pants, logged in, and brought up the case file, along with Dylan’s personal file and his wife’s. Dylan was a college graduate. He studied architecture, had a good job, excellent salary, and no debt. His parents lived in Philly, wife’s parents lived in Virginia. On screen they looked like any other couple.
“I already told those other four or five agents. I didn’t kill my wife.”