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Jake mirrored Holt’s body language, crossing his arms. He stared through the one-way mirror at the middle-aged man in the interrogation room as Holt flipped through the case file one last time.
“We know he did it,” Holt said. “All we need now is a confession.”
Jake tapped his foot impatiently. “How do we get this motherfucker to admit it?”
“Language, Peralta,” Holt chastised.
“Sorry, Captain. I’m just on edge.” He made a face at the man on the other side of the glass, baring his teeth. He dug his nails into his arms. “I say we just go in there and be up front about it. No need for a sneaky strategy for this piece of-- dog poop.”
Holt nodded. “I agree. Let’s go.”
They entered the interrogation room. The man looked up at them, clearly trying to hide fear. Jake felt no sympathy for him.
“Just confess already,” he said with no preamble. “We all know you did it, Johnson.”
“I didn’t do it,” said the perp, and Jake wanted to scream.
“Yes you did,” he hissed.
“There is copious evidence against you,” said Holt. He leaned forward, arms on the table. “It would be best for you to cooperate.”
“My son was a piece of shit, but I didn’t kill him,” the man said. He crossed his arms. “He deserved it, but--”
“You killed him and you know it, you motherfucker!” Jake screamed. Holt stood up straight.
“Peralta!” he snapped.
“Shit,” Jake sighed, pressing his palms into his eyes. He could not fucking cry right now.
“My office. Now,” said Holt, walking briskly out of the room.
Jake was alone with the perp for only a moment before he couldn’t stand it anymore. He glared at him on his way out.
-----
“What was that about, Peralta?” Holt said, and Jake couldn’t look him in the eye.
“I’m sorry I yelled.”
“Yes, correct! Be sorry!”
Jake grit his teeth. “I got worked up. It won’t happen again.”
“You need to learn proper conduct, or--”
A knock on the door interrupted Holt, and Gina walked in without waiting for an answer. “Amy wanted me to give this to you,” she said, handing Holt some papers with one hand while typing on her phone with the other. “Byee.”
The door closed behind her, and Holt took a moment to look at the files, distracted from yelling at Jake for at least a moment. Hooray for Gina.
“New information about our case,” said Holt. “The perp’s other children have come out with more allegations of abuse. We have confirmation that the abuse wasn’t just targeted at the son he killed.”
Jake might actually puke.
He looked up at the ceiling, blinking hard, digging his nails into his palms. “Oh, man.” He flopped onto Holt’s couch and buried his head in his hands. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.
“Peralta?” Fuck. Holt was difficult to read, but that was definitely concern in his voice. Jake’s breath hitched.
“Fuck, Captain, I just…” He felt Holt sit next to him. Welp, sad monologue time. “My dad used to, used to be like that, and I can’t--I can’t deal with--” He took a shuddering breath. “Gina used to say he was gonna kill me someday,” Jake said quietly.
Holt said nothing. Jake wiped his eyes.
“When the perp said his son deserved to be murdered, I-- I freaked out. I’m sorry. It won’t--I won’t do that again,” he finished.
He felt Holt’s hand on his knee, and Jake looked up. Holt’s face looked exactly like it always did, but there was something in his eyes that made Jake want to collapse into his arms and sob. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Peralta,” said Holt. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s not your fault.”
Jake was having a really hard time not crying. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“I’m taking you off this case,” continued Holt, and Jake sat up straight.
“What?”
“This isn’t a punishment,” Holt said, putting up a hand to shut Jake up. “You’re clearly not in the headspace to be able to work on it without causing harm to yourself. Take the rest of the day off.”
Jake took a deep breath and looked back down at his knees, unable to keep making eye contact. “Okay. Thank you.” He stood up. “Bye, Captain.”