clouds ; l.h/c.h

CHAPTER SIX

Why.

That's the big question, isn't it? Why would someone kill Darla?

Nobody particularly liked her, but nobody particularly hated her either. When you get to that weird sweet spot on the lower end of the social ladder, people don't really care enough to pay attention to you, let alone plot your murder.

'But what if it was an accident?' kept playing around in my head. I swallowed my heart, knowing it was wishful thinking to hope that someone didn't mean to ram a knife through her chest and leave her there without telling anyone.

And that brings us to the how. How were they able to corner Darla and off her without anyone hearing? Granted, the music was blaring, and the people were loud, but really? A cold-blooded murder, right under our noses? C'mon.

These were the thoughts swimming through my head as I trudged through town to the police station. Never thought I would want to be there again, but that conversation with Luke got me thinking. I'd had my time of swimming in this awkward new reality; now I wanted answers.

As I stepped through the front door of the station, I immediately spotted the officer who had interviewed me the night of the party, right there at the front desk, collecting a folder from the receptionist.

"Officer..." I began to call out, until I realised I couldn't actually remember this guy's name. "...bestie."

The fat man turned and spotted me trying for a grin. He gave me the White Person Smile That Isn't A Smile.

"Miss Holly. Just the person I wanted to see, actually." He walked over to me as a lump formed in my throat.

"Oh? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

He cautiously looked down to the file in his hand, then back up to me. "Walk with me."

He led me down a familiar corridor, turning me into an office which I assumed was his (I learnt his name was Officer Burke, judging the plaque on the door) and he sat me down, spreading the folder out on the desk for me to see. The first thing I noticed, clipped to a statement sheet that looked like me, was a photo of Darla. Not even a nice one, like one from her birthday last year or the one she always said made her look frumpy from Year 10 grad. It was the snapshot of her peaceful body strewn out against the gust bed of Harry Styles's party. I hadn't been able to get this very image out of my brain for days.

The fat man leant back in his chair, interlacing his fingers across his Santa Claus stomach. "There's been a development in Darla's case. It isn't much, but it's something." He leant forward and flipped the contents of the skinny case file to the back page, showing a statement from Abigail Breslin.

"Oh my god it was so scary," it began. "I saw Calum Hood going into the second floor at around, I dunno, quarter past 11? He came back down pretty quickly. He looked really frazzled, not gonna lie."

I cynically peered from the statement up to the officer. "Are you serious? Calum Hood?"

"This puts him at a sweet spot to commit the crime in the time between when you and Darla fought to when you eventually met up with Cal-"

"No, bullshit, stop right there," I said, standing up. Calum was the one person who'd been sweet to me throughout this whole thing, there's no way he could've done any of this. "I don't know what Calum was doing on the third floor but I promise you he was not with Darla. Do you even know if she was up there by that point? Where are all the statements about her whereabouts, hm? This is all just wild accusations!"

Officer Burke gave me a sad look through his bushy greying brows. "Miss Holly, please, I understand you're confronted by this. This is nothing more than speculation at this point, I just wanted to tell you the updates."