The Keepers (Niall Horan FanFic)

Chapter 17-The Secret [Pt. 2]

Impossible.

That's my first initial impression after I recover from my state of temporary shock. Niall Horan, halfway in a picture of a dead girl being rolled into an ambulance? No. Moreover, why? Why would Niall be in a picture of an accident that happened years ago?

Maybe, just maybe, he had something to do with it...

That voice is tugging at the back of my mind again, willing me to look further, to dig deeper. But dig deeper into what? What am I looking for, really? I don't know. Sure, I found half his face in an unrelated, unpublished picture. Something isn't right, I know that much. But how do you rule out the wrong when you don't even know where to start?

"Well, you can cross-reference his face, you ninny.  Wouldn't want to accuse the wrong person." I impatiently drum my nails against my desk and glance sideways at Fawkes, who's giving me a silent yet very distiguished look  that clearly says ameteur. "Don't look at me like that," I say, venom in my voice. "Or I'll take away your tuna for a week."

We stare at each other for a total of 5 seconds before my computer starts beeping and a woman's monotonous, robatic voice rings out: CROSS-REFERENCE COMPLETED. PERSON IN PHOTOGRAPH, NIALL JAMES HORAN.

Even though I already knew my gut feeling was right, my pulse quickens, my senses sharpen. Maybe I'll finally have something to show my employer, before he decides to pay me a visit again. 

I immidietly grab a yellow pad of paper and a pen and sit with my head on one knee, like I always do when I'm concentrating. I quickly write the following words in my neat, small handwriting: 

Reasons why Niall Horan's face in is that picture

-Kacey Murrs was a distant family member or friend

-Niall Horan was an eyewitness

-Niall Horan

I pause, the pen millimeters from the paper. It's not possible. There is no way, no possible little sliver of a chance that he could have...that he did...that he killed-

Enough. He didn't. There's no way a boy like that, so pure and so innocent, could hide a secret like that. He's an open book. I knew what he was as soon as I looked in his eyes, and-

Do you? A small voice whispers, feeling of ice and cold. Do you really know what he's capable of?

No. I don't. I met this boy a couple days ago, not the minute he was born. And if there's one lesson that you should always keep in mind when in the field, it's to never underestimate your target. That's how the best Keepers are where they are; people trust them too soon and too fully, never fully believing that one of their own would betray them for a price as little as 30 pieces of silver.

I grip the pen harder and complete my sentence, bracing myself for what could be the truth:

-Niall Horan killed Kacey Murrs

"Now, to find out which one of you is true..." I say, turning back to the computer screens. "Niall Horan and Kacey Murrs. Cross-reference database," I say, releasing the button that enables me to talk to my system. "CROSS-REFERENCE DATABASE, IN MOTION." It replies, leaving me to turn to my other computer to my left. "Alright, alright...where was Niall Horan before Kacey Murrs died?" I say to no one in particular, fingers flying as they type in Mullingar, Ireland, December 5th, 2010 into the search bar.

Immediately the Mullingar newspaper pops up, telling what I already know; my eyes moving down the screen, I stop, clicking on the next link:

Clover Pub's Recognition Party!

My eyes roll down the screen at top speed; I can feel it, I know it. Something's here, hiding in the words on my screen. Perhaps the secret that will hand me the boy himself...

I stop, dead in my tracks, examining the headline.

Senator Gordon Wilson celebrates old friend and colleague Aaron Peirce on 25 years of business!

Heart drumming, I scroll down the page, scrutinizing the pictures on the screen, looking for anything that might be a hidden clue or piece of information. There's people and ale everywhere, filling the place to the seams; having a Senator make an appearance at your pub is obviously a party-throwing ordeal.

There's Aaron Peirce laughing with the senator; women in green and white are all around, clutching beer mugs and laughing with one another.

If Kacey Murrs was really here...

The pictures. 

I click through the gallery, fingers and eyes flying, scrutinizing every detail, missing nothing. Remembering her face from her obituary and her outfit from the scene of the crime, I look for a green shirt and brown hair in the mass of beer-drinking people. Of course, there's brunettes everywhere, almost all of them dressed in green. There's got to be about 50 brunettes wearing green here. This could take me all nigh-

I stop suddenly, blinking my eyes.

"Oh my God..." I whisper, my breath seeming to disappear. I can't feel my fingers. I can't move my fingers, not even to zero in on what I'm seeing.

"...Impossible..."

But no, there's Niall Horan, obscured behind a brunette and a blonde, half his face in the shadows due to the flash. His face is bare, expressionless. Like he can't forget the person he came to drink away.

I examine his hands. His white knuckles grasp an almost-empty tankard that he holds at waist height, as if he wants to set it down. But I know. Oh Lord, I know. That an almost-empty tankard shouldn't be gripped with white knuckles if one was simply taking a couple sips at a time. He hasn't set that beer down once. In fact, I doubt that's at all his first...

No. No no no no no no no. God, no, Niall. You didn't. Tell me you didn't.

Silence is all that talks back to me. Maybe that boy is capable of hiding secrets far better than you ever gave him credit for...

My mind spins as I try and wrap my mind around it. I blink my eyes, trying to block the story as it unfolds in my head fresh and clear, as if I was there that night, a silent witness to it all.

Niall Horan at Clover's Pub...with an empty tankard...Niall Horan driving down the road in the dark, drunk...headlights...a collision...the tree...sobbing, from a woman-Kacey Murr's lifeless body on a stretcher, her blood still on the seat where she took her final breath...

I start to fall and grab the computer desk, barely hanging onto it as I scatter the contents of the desk until I find my pen.

Writing in shaky, shocked handwriting, I pull away from the paper and hold it up to the light.

Niall Horan killed Kacy Murrs