clouds ; l.h/c.h

CHAPTER NINE

"I stole Darla's file."

Calum sprayed his mountain dew all over the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry Kaitlynn Holly I must've misheard you," gawked the frazzled boy in my kitchen. "you stole Darla's file. Darla's police file. An official government document. An offence punishable by—"

"I know who killed her."

"WHAT?!"

Calum was in shambles. I'd hit him with a double whammy at 10am in the morning after inviting him over on occasion of "Big News". When I'd imagined the first time a boy would be at my house, I never thought it would be because I stole a government document to investigate my bestie's murder.

"Or at least I have a hunch. A list of hunches, actually.And I need you to help me prove at least one of them right."

The boy sat down, glass o' Mountain Dew clasped tightly in his strong hands. He looked like he was gonna have an annerisum.

Finally, after a strained gulp, he spoke. "Kat. When you told me there was 'Big News' I thought you maybe wanted to talk about a new video game, or a band touring, or an Indian restaurant down the block with great curry. Not this. Anything but this."

I hopped to the opposite end of the kitchen island and grinned into his dread-soaked eyes. "C'mon Calum. Please. I need you."

I saw the expression in his eyes shift from shock to pity. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He thought I was trying to fill the Darla Hole in my heart with him. Stringing him along on some team bonding mystery to solve so I could act like my best friend wasn't six feet under the ground.

Well... maybe that's exactly what I was doing.

But Calum was so nice, and surprisingly gentle and funny and rather attractive. He was the only one at school who didn't look at me like I was something about to break. He treated me like a human being.

"Okay."

My mouth fell open. Within seconds I was jumping for joy, dancing my way around the kitchen. "YESYESYESYESYES!!! Thank you Calum! Thank you!!!" I enveloped him in a bear hug he quickly reciprocated.

"What's our first order of business, detective?" he chuckled from above me.

"Simple. We're gonna pay some friends of ours a little visit."

*  *  *

"Of course I didn't kill that nerd," Harry Styles scoffed.

"Oh really?" I narrowed my eyes.

Harry Styles was floating in his stupidly big pool on a stupidly big floaty lawn chair wearing stupidly big sunglasses. He was charicaristically unbothered.

"Yes. Really." He took a sip from his stupidly big martini.

I paced the pool's circumference. It was a beautiful sunny day, the perfect kind of day for an interrogation. "Because you were the only one with unlimited access to this entire house. You also claimed in your statement that YOU were the one that found Darla, not Ashton and Tahlia. They tried getting into the room, called you over because it was locked, and YOU walked in first, correct?"

"How does that make me a murderer, Holly?"

"Because barely any doors were locked that night. You own the house, you've got all the keys at your fingertips. Who's to say you weren't locking it, trying to cover up your dirty work?"

"So why the fuck would I willingly open the door?"

"To try and pose as innocent, of course." I crossed my arms firm across my chest, the file clasped tight in my hands. I continued to circle him, a shark surrounding it's prey.

The pretty boy scoffed. "Sure. If you had really read my statement, Holly, you would've seen my alibi. I was with Louis and the boys at the time the police say she died. Here, in the backyard. People would've noticed if I had dipped for a minute, no? Also, all the rooms on the third floor are locked. That's where my families rooms are. No guests or party activities were supposed to go beyond the second floor."

I pondered. If Styles was being for real, that means the real killer would've had to had access to the top floor of Harry's house, a key of some kind. A family member? A close friend? Or just someone who was good at picking locks? If the third story rooms were all locked that night, the killer must've seen it as a convenience. That means they didn't want anyone finding her...

My stomach began to turn at the thought. Why had they left her there? So secluded? We're they going to come back to her? Ravage her? Worse? Were they waiting for the perfect moment for the big reveal of the murder? Surely they knew somebody would figure out she was missing and go looking for her. She had friends.

Actually... scratch that. She had a friend. Singular. Me.

Whoever killed Darla wanted me to find her like that that night. This was no secret cover up gone wrong.

Which brings me back to Harry.

"Afraid your story still makes no sense, Styles. You made quite the show of leading me towards her. Why not block off the whole floor? Call off the party upon finding her?"

A shrug from the rich motherfucker. "I dunno. I didn't know what to do. I panicked. You were her only friend, I thought you deserved the right to be the first person to know."

Hmm. Was it all just a little too nice to be true?

"And another thing," the Brit slurred, sitting up at last and swiping off his sunglasses to glare at me. This was the first time he'd shown emotion throughout our whole interrogation. "Why the fuck would I kill her? I barely even knew her."

And there it was. The motive. My most difficult topic of the entire case. Harry had the convenience, but not the means. It seemed nobody did.

My one flicker of hope deflated like a baloon. I had grasped at straws for a chance of justice, and i'd ended up looking a fool.

A strong warm hand fell on my shoulder, and I looked behind me to see Calum rubbing my arm, eyes hooked on Harry.

"Thanks for you time, Mate," he quipped, then led me out of the backyard, headed out of Styles Mannor. It was weird coming back here so soon, but I had to swallow my heart for the sake of talking to Harry. The empty rooms made me queasy.

Calum was my emotional support dog. I needed him, not for any astounding detective skills I knew of him to have, but because I couldn't possibly do this on my own. Come back to the house, walk up to my classmates faces and accuse them of chopping up my best friend. I'd lose it if I was doing this alone, and Calum knew that, which I think is why he even agreed in the first place.

"I'm sorry suspect number one was a bust, Kat," he murmured, massaging my shoulders as we left the premises not quickly enough. We were back in his car before we knew it. "Who's suspect two?"

I grimaced at my makeshift murderer list.

"Nobody better than the first."