The idea that the truth is the best thing to speak, is ingrained in us from the very start of our development, and that lying is inherently bad - that too. But what about saying nothing at all? Many of our parents would say that if you know the trut...
Deep down I knew I shouldn't be here, I knew that before I left my house, it would probably end badly, and get me in a lot of shit, but somehow that didn't stop me.
I locked myself into my study and called Stan -Head of Criminal Intelligence, MI6- I rarely use him for anything, to be honest, I have my own group of investigators for doing background checks and things along those lines, but this, this was different, I needed an outside source. You see Stan and I went to school together, since nursery all the way through to university, we even studied the same thing as a degree, law. I needed information with the assurance that it would be confidential and definitely couldn't be traced back to me. Got what I needed, hung up and deleted the conversation from my call history.
I waited until my cleaners were gone for the night and then slowly snuck out the backdoor and round to the garage, I didn't need to be sneaky about it really, I could've just walked out, it is my house after all, but I felt the need to act suspicious, which probably shows how much I shouldn't be doing this.
And that's how I ended up driving along the busy London streets at 6 am towards his house, I had no idea what I was going to do, nor what I actually wanted to do. Wanted to talk to him, to find something out, but I have no idea what I'm actually trying to find out. I pulled up after about 20 minutes driving, not that far away from my offices, looked on my phone then looked at the house numbers, I don't know what I was expecting to be faced with but it definitely wasn't this
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Fuck off is this his house, no copper can afford a house like this unless he was taking backhanders, which I highly doubt based on how he acted yesterday. I mean he might be a DCI but something about this is just off, the whole thing just screamed 'upper-class twat' The kind of house I would buy to be completely honest, which just proves even more how this can't be his house. I'm no estate agent but half a million, at least.
I figured there must have been a slip up in the files somewhere on Stan's side, I put my phone back in my suit pocket and as I turned the key in the ignition the door opened, out stumbled two men, very drunk I might add. One was the detective from yesterday, the one that brought me in for questioning, I didn't recognise the other guy though. I wasn't worried they would spot me, they were engaged in other activities, namely pushing each other up against the car sitting in the driveway, they needed to calm down, holy fuck, they needed to take a break from practically eating each other's faces to breathe.
The entrance to the house swiftly opened, which caught all three of us off guard, I jumped and they pulled away from each other, then out he walked, the prick who thought he knew everything. He handed the dark-haired guy a phone, the two got into the car they were previously making out against and pulled out of the drive, they drove straight past my car, I ducked down, just to be cautious. In the haste to keep my eyes on their car at all times, I failed to notice Harry walking back up his drive, turning off the security lights and standing at his porch looking directly in my direction. Fuck.
