HEY THERE, BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE.

I AM SCUM.

I KNOW.

BUT I UPDATED.

AlsoIrememberedthatI',.

Note: The lamest joke in this chapter is that the lamest joke in this chapter is hiding another lame joke and a plot point.

(PM if me if you think you think you figured that out. I'll tell you if you're right. xD)

Note pt 2: I literally wrote this and then put it up here. TELL ME if you see any grammar/spelling/other mistakes.

xxxxx

Maya glared moodily at the wall of her cell in the detention center. She didn't like it in here, never had, and never would. Although, she mused, she would probably hate it more if she actually had committed the crime, because then she would have gotten caught…

"Miss Fey?" a gruff security guard interrupted her. "You have a visitor."

Oh? Maya perked up. Nick must be making a lot of progress on the case if he was coming to visit her again so soon! She bounced off of the bed and followed the guard to the visitor area.

She was startled and slightly crestfallen to see, not Nick, but a woman exuding t he essence of a reporter. Pencil tucked behind one ear, hair in a sleek bun, crisp two-piece suit, and probably a pair of heels on her panty-hosed feet. Maya took the seat on her side of the glass, trying to put on a semblance of a pleasant expression.

"You are Miss Maya Fey?" the woman asked, eyes glittering keenly. She had a deep, soothing voice. Maya nodded mutely. "Excellent! My name is Clover Fields; I'm a reporter with the Los Angeles Times."

"Nice to meet you," Maya replied politely.

Clover took the pencil out from behind her ear and flipped open a notebook that she procured from a purse Maya had not noticed before. "Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

"No, that's okay." What else was she going to do?

"So, what is your relationship to Phoenix Wright? It seems you get into trouble quite frequently, and he is always the one to get you out of it."

Maya turned pink. "W-well, you see, I'm his partn- his business partner! I help him run the office and solve cases."

The reporter gazed at her with level eyes. "Mm-hmm. Go on."

"There's nothing else!" Maya protested, growing pinker.

A smirk from the reporter's flawlessly lipstick covered mouth. "Of course."

Maya glared at her through her blush. "Any other questions? Ya know, that are actually relevant to the case?"

Clover laughed. "But I'm not investigating the case; I'm investigating you!"

"That's, uh… creepy," Maya muttered, taken aback.

"But if you want to talk about the murder, that's fine," Clover sighed dramatically. "Did you actually do it?"

"Of course not!" Maya asserted. Her mood wasn't getting much better.

"Alright then, where were you?" The reporter was looking very closely at her, almost like she was studying her, trying to memorize her actions.

"I was in the bathroom," Maya told her tersely.

"Hmm, okay. So you heard the explosion?"

"Uh-huh. I think Mr. Watts yelled something before it, but I didn't hear."

Clover was scribbling furiously in her little notepad. When she looked up, she had her mouth open to ask another questions, but a loud ringing stopped her. She swore and fumbled with her purse, eventually drawing out a cell phone.

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Alright, I'll be there. See you." She flipped the phone shut with a sigh. "I'm terribly sorry, Miss Fey, but I have to be at a meeting. It was good talking to you."

"Ah, you too," Maya replied. She watched the reporter leave, feeling a little strange. Oh well. The security guard came to escort her back to her cell, and Maya followed, lost in thought.

What kind of a name is Clover Fields, anyway…

xxxxx

Nick picked around the blast site, distracted by the presence of the odd Japanese family. He had felt a little something in the magatama when the boy had introduced himself to Pearls, but he hadn't wanted to press it. The kid seemed perfectly undisturbed now, investigating the crime scene along with the detective. The girl was standing off to one side, watching the kid with a look that jumped from alert curiosity to wistful nostalgia.

…

Okay, maybe he should press the kid for some details. No child that young investigated crime scenes with a teenage girl watching him like a bizarre love struck puppy.

He strolled over to the boy and crouched next to him, inspecting the same remnants of documents on the charred desk. After a moment, the boy looked at him with solemn eyes.

"Ah, hello," Nick started, losing his train of thought as the boy's sharp look melted into childlike innocence.

"Hi Mister Lawyer!" the kid said.

"Uh… Mr. Wright is fine," Nick corrected. "What's your name?" He surreptitiously slipped his hand onto the green gem in his pocket.

"Conan Edogawa."

KASHUNK-SHUNK-SHUNK-SHUNK-SHUNK

F-Five psyche locks? Just on the name?

"F-five?" Nick stammered weakly, too shocked to control his mouth.

"I'm six, actually."

Instead of disappearing, the psyche locks seemed reinforced. Nick gaped at the child. What kind of secret could a six-year-old be hiding that merited that amount of willpower?

"Listen, Conan, I don't know what you don't want me to know, but can't I at least know how old you real-"

Conan's eyes shot open. He grabbed the attorney's arm and dragged him over to the other side of the room, keeping an anxious eye on the Japanese girl.

"Listen Mr. Wright, I don't know how you know about my condition, but you absolutely cannot mention it to anyone else, and especially not Ran, do you understand?" Conan hissed in a voice that did not belong to a child. His eyes were glittering in deadly earnest.

Nick was taken aback. "Uh, y-yeah, okay. Sure."

Conan released a sigh and allowed Nick to reclaim his arm from the boy's grasp. "Sorry. But it's literally a matter of life or death." His eyes darkened with pain and sorrow. "I don't want Ran to get hurt…"

The two were silent for a moment. Conan broke the silence.

"Well, since you know about me, I hope we'll be able to work together to catch this killer!" His eyes flashed again, but this time with a fighting spirit Nick recognized from everyone dedicated to finding the truth. He grinned. It didn't matter what the kid was hiding, not as long as they were able to catch the killer.

"You got it."