Missing: The boy who disappeared

Chapter 9- A Suspect?

A/N
I sincerly apologise for the long delay in updating. The kids are still on school break, so ive been really busy.
This is a 13.3k word chapter and there's lots to unpack.
Also, eek, I see Louis Tomlinson again this week.

🚨

Underneath a growing cold overcast sky, Harry and Louis pulled into the police station parking lot, navigating through a maze of cars, the tires crunching on the gravel.

Louis steered the car expertly, a well-practised routine evident in every turn. Louis rolled into a parking spot, choosing it with the precision of someone who had done this countless times before.

"Only two reporters out the front, so that's good at least."

Louis processed Harry's attempt at comfort by fixating his eyes on the steering wheel. Harry intended solace, trying to assure Louis the good news of not having to navigate the tumult of the press. Yet, to Louis, the notion of "only two reporters" resonated differently—it felt like a subtle admission of waning interest, a silent acknowledgment that the world was slowly forgetting about his missing son.

No one was really caring anymore.

"Yeah, this entrance keeps us under the radar. It's not meant for the public, but Garcia insisted I use it when the media chaos first escalated. Until they lose interest completely, I'll stick to this route. They tend to give up after about ten minutes if they don't catch a glimpse of me. Here's hoping they'll clear out soon."

Exiting the car, they approached the entrance, where Louis instinctively led Harry through the back door.

As they made their way down the corridor, Louis exchanged nods with officers passing by, a silent acknowledgment of familiarity. Harry trailed behind, absorbing the surroundings – a symphony of office sounds, distant phone conversations, and the occasional shuffle of paperwork.

As they made their way through, Harry observed, a somber realisation settling in that Louis knew this place like the back of his hand – the routine, the faces, the unchanging process. An overwhelming sadness struck Harry then as he realised that Louis had repeated this ritual daily, yet the outcome always remained the same.

They arrived at the check-in desk, Louis nodding to the receptionist, who acknowledged him with a practised smile.
Louis efficiently provided the necessary information as they both watched the receptionist's fingers move promptly across the keyboard. Harry's glance towards Louis revealed a stoic expression, his eyes reflecting a history of navigating these familiar bureaucratic channels.

Louis deciphers from the melancholy expression on the lady's face that today brings no deviation from the usual.

"No news, I presume?"

In response, the lady responds with a gentle, sorrowful smile.

In this space of routine and monotony, Harry recognized the toll it had taken on Louis. Each practised step, each familiar face, painted a silent picture of a man who had grown accustomed to the unwavering disappointment of “no news.”

Descending down towards the primary front entrance, Louis approached the domain of where to find Reign or Garcia.

The abrupt transformation in atmosphere from being subdued near the rear of the station to the bustling at the front, became vividly apparent upon their entry into the chaotic scene.

This part of the station was filled with frenetic energy, due to an incident near the supermarket that turned the station into a hive of movement. People hurried around, engaged in animated conversations, their voices blending into a collective hum. Amidst the commotion, Louis discerned the familiar figure of Detective Reign. Weaving his way around, Reign approached with purpose when he noticed Harry was present.