[b] Detective Brewer - Outside The Florence [/b]

Brandon was about to give up and go home when he saw the chief walk out of the bar "What the Fuck?" He asked to no one quickly bringing his camera up he started snapping pictures of the chief, he was going to have a pow wow with the chief and interrogate his ass tomorrow morning. Brandon having all he needed rolled out of his spot and started driving home, just in case he took back streets and went in circles to see if anyone was following him, not that it mattered because if the chief is in their back pocket all they would need to do is ask.

Eventually he made it to the motel that was his home, it was a dingy motel the paint on the walls was cracking and faded, there were holes in the wall from where Brandon had punched through the cheap dry wall, empty bottles of alcohol and ash trays full of cigarette butts laid scattered across the room, broken glass strewn about the floor. The place was a wreck, a reflection of who lived in it, the first thing Brandon did when he got home was head straight to the mini fridge that held a cold bottle of Rum, he didn't bother with a glass or a chaser he just drank it straight up and turned on the TV and laid there trying to forget.