21 Murders | Harry Styles AU (discontinued)

XVII. Intervention

intervention (noun): the action or process of intervening

Noelle's POV

A few days had gone by at the department and all the previous findings were being put under observation. The notes that we brought into ops were being decrypted and analyzed by a team of experts- known by the names of Royce and the geek squad.

Mendy's laptop was also being brought back to life after finding the lid completely smashed and the screen cracked right down the center. It was certain that the killer of the young girl hanging in her closet had been on his toes and two steps ahead of us.

He hadn't found the notes, though, which gave us a sliver of hope. The young girl was identified by the name of Marie Meeks and had been apart of a program that Siena University had put together to get young high school students that were looking for college scholarships, to get a better look at the college itself. She didn't actually attend the school, which was a different case seeing as though this killer only went after girls who did. The only indication that linked this case to my own, was the number carved to her forehead.

It was like this man was playing with us and toying with our limited knowledge. He was a wild cat, tossing his prey in the air for fun as the younger cats would watch with hesitant eyes, and this was exactly what we all knew.

The tight knots in my neck were growing at an unbearable rate, the stress of the endearing afternoon ahead of us putting me on the edge of my own self stability. Today was the press conference, and all that had happened was hitting me right smack-dab on the forehead.

"You look nice,'' Harry voiced from the doorway, my eyes meeting his in the mirror in front of me as I was staring at the professional black dress I was wearing. He was clad in his full uniform, the only missing piece being his shirt. I could tell he loved the pride that came with wearing the uniform and that gave his smile a little glint of added happiness.

"Thank you,'' I muttered, turning around to face the human form of himself. His one foot was propped on it's toe and his arms were crossed, muscles indenting the skin like clay. "You look very handsome yourself."

He gave a light smile in thanks. He must've felt how on-edge I'd been all morning, saying nice things and giving me my space that was desired greatly. As if the weight of the world was riding on my back, the tension between us was getting to the point where silences were now awkward. There was some hostility with him the past few days and I'd yet to crack it. Harry was just so tense and stiff and it made me anxious as well.

"We should get going. Estelle is waiting on us,'' Harry then spoke up again, stopping the train-wreck in my mind. With a small nod, I gathered my coat and slipped into my heels.

I followed through the dull hallway and picked at my freshly cut finger nails. Thanks to the event, Harry had made it clear that what I was supposed to look like was professional and modest; the black dress that ended right above my knees and women's suit coat finalizing my look.

I'd worn this exact outfit once to a retirement party the college held for a professor. We were all informed that attire was a main part of the event and so, I had gone out and picked out one of the most modest, gruesome outfits I could find. Only now, the occasion I was wearing it for wasn't joyful or exciting. It was terrifying and far beyond any joyfulness.

Harry swipes the keys off the kitchen counter and pulls on his official shirt, buttoning the buttons with one hand as he unlocks the gated elevator shaft. We step in, quietness being the only companion between us, and the long ride to the lobby starts.

-

As Harry pulled up to the convention center, I couldn't help but let my jaw drop at all the cars parked along the grass and flooding into the street. The second we arrived, everyone's attention focused on us and swarms of news reporters were greeting us beside his car.