Meeting Malik

Dylan was seated in his office, caressing his aching forehead with knitted eyebrows. The joy of starting his law firm faded as soon as the responsibilities that came with it arrived.

Currently, he had to deal with 20 Shots cases, but to do that, Dylan needed to build a small but efficient team to handle legal, administrative, and investigative tasks.

For this, he needed a legal assistant, an office manager, an investigator, and a financial manager. Contrary to Clara's expectations, Dylan planned to keep her by his side as a paralegal.

Her contribution to 20 Shot's case was proof of her talent. Unfortunately, a firm can't be run by two people and Dylan didn't plan on interviewing dozens of people just to find the right person.

"We can't post job listings?"

Clara blurted out in shock as she watched Dylan rise to his feet and pick up the black trench coat he left on the desk.

"We are talking about recruiting core members of the firm..." Dylan shrugged while putting on his coat. "I'll find them myself."

Clara blinked repeatedly in confusion, wondering if her ears were playing tricks on her. She couldn't understand Dylan's intentions, but she didn't argue either.

Everything he has achieved so far came from his independent actions. With all he has accomplished in comparison to her, Clara understood she wasn't in a position to question him carelessly.

She would only speak up if his actions were damaging the company directly.

"What about the murder case?" Clara asked. "Dealing with this alone will be difficult for just both of us."

"We will manage, just like we have always done," Dylan responded dully while sorting through some files on the table.

He picked up a few documents and slid them into his briefcase. Dylan checked the time on his watch and sighed; he barely had an hour before Malik's questioning at the station.

"How can I help?" Clara asked as Dylan walked around the table and headed straight for the door.

He only stopped a step away from the exit and looked over his shoulder.

"How about you head back home and make us something delicious for tonight? A romantic dinner and a wild night with you will cheer me up after a long day of work."

Clara's face turned red, and she quickly avoided Dylan's gaze. She gave a shy nod and felt too embarrassed to say a word as Dylan left the office.

— Cook County Jail – Attorney-Client Meeting Room —

Dylan stepped through the heavy metal door, the sharp clang behind him echoing in the small, dimly lit room. The air smelled of cheap disinfectant and stale sweat, a scent he had come to associate with places like this.

Across the table sat Malik "Ghost" Carter, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, his wrists shackled to the chair. He was a bald man in his mid-twenties with a machete wound on his head.

Strangely he had no tattoos, just ear and nose piercings and shaved eyebrows.

{Yep, he did it.} Lich chuckled and Dylan rolled his eyes.

Malik leaned back lazily, studying Dylan with a wary gaze.

"So, you're my lawyer? Thought you'd be older."

Malik expected a response but got none. He watched Dylan walk around the table with a tired expression.

Dylan pulled out a chair and sat down, placing his briefcase on the table. He met Malik's eyes with a steady, unreadable expression.

"Before we start, listen carefully." His tone was firm but calm. "Do not, under any circumstances, tell me anything that can be used against you. No confessions. No unnecessary details. Just answer my questions. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah. I ain't dumb, lawyer man." Malik smirked.

Dylan opened his briefcase and pulled out a notepad.

"Good. Now, first question—where did the police find the gun?"

Malik exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

"At my crib. They found it when they raided the place during my arrest."

Dylan made a mental note of that. That meant the prosecution had no direct link between Malik and the gun at the crime scene. They'd have to prove he had it on him at the time of the murder, which gave him some room to work with.

"Alright," Dylan continued, tapping his pen against the notepad. "Next question—aside from you, who else had a strong motive to kill Victor Alvarez?"

Malik let out a low chuckle and leaned back.

"Man, a lotta people. Vic wasn't exactly a saint. He had beef with plenty of folks."

Dylan leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.

"Then I need you to think. Who, out of everyone, had the most convincing reason? Who's the one person people wouldn't be surprised to see take him out?"

Malik went silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he thought. Then, a slow grin spread across his face.

"I got someone," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Manny Cruz. That motherfucker's been talking wild on life, saying he was gonna catch Vic lacking. If someone was out looking for Vic, it would be them."

Dylan nodded slowly. That was the angle he needed. If Manny had been making public threats, it wouldn't be hard to shift suspicion onto him.

"That's good," Dylan said, closing his notepad. "Now, here's what happens next. I'll build your defense around creating doubt. But you keep your mouth shut. No bragging, no slip-ups. If anyone asks, you don't know anything. Understood?"

"Yeah, I hear you. Just make sure I walk." Malik grinned.

"That's the plan." Dylan stood up, gathering his things.

As he knocked on the door for the guard to let him out, he could feel Malik's eyes on him. A second later, the door slid open and Dylan walked out.

He checked his watch and realized he only had 15 minutes before Malik's questioning.

"Mr. Morningstar… It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

An unfamiliar voice rang in Dylan's ears, sending shivers down his pine