Chapter Two
I look over at Peter, while he evaluates each of their pictures. We decided to question them one at a time because they’d feel less obligated to agree with their bandmates.
“So, who first?” I ask Peter.
“Liam,” he says. “From what I can tell, he’s going to be the most honest. Harry’s too feisty. He won’t say anything unless we tell him his other bandmates already trusted us with the information.”
I nod. As much as he gets on my nerves, we can put that aside and work together. Plus I have to grudgingly admit that he is the best agent in our field.
“Bring in Liam,” I say into my jacket, where a mouthpiece is hidden.
On cue, the door buzzes open and in walks Liam, his shaggy brown hair falling into his worried eyes. He sits down at the table, across from us, and Peter nods at me to sit down.
“So, Liam, we just want to know a couple things. Where was Niall the night of the incident?” Peter says, calmly.
“Erm,” he replies, shakily. “I dunno, really. At midnight he told us that he was meeting some friend downtown London. We thought he was just taking his time, but when no one was getting an answer from him, we decided to call the police.”
“Okay. And have you been receiving death threats from someone?”
He shakes his head.
I am looking at his eyes and I know he’s lying. He looks terrified and scared.
“Liam,” I say, quietly. “We know that you’ve been receiving death threats by someone. And even if the note tells you not to tell anyone, you need to forget about that. Because you can trust that anything you say will not leave this room.”
“I – I can’t.”
“Why, Liam?”
“Because I – I just can’t risk it.”
“Look, Liam, no one can hear you now. You’re safe. We have the means to protect you.”
“But,” Peter adds. “We can only do that if we know everything. If we’re missing a bunch of information, there’s very minimal things we can do to keep you safe.”
“No. I can’t. I just – I can’t,” he says, standing his ground.
“Liam, please.”
“No, I won’t do it.”
Okay. That was all we were getting out of him for now. We would use other ways later, but right now I just wanted to see what the boys would divulge.
“Alright,” I sigh. “That’s all. You may go.”
He gets up and we watch as he buzzes open the door and disappears. Into my collar, I say the next name:
“Bring in Zayn, please.”
The door buzzes open almost immediately, and in walks Zayn.
He gives a small, tentative, tight-lipped smile. I usher him and beckon him to sit down.
“So, Zayn,” I tell him. “Where was Niall when he was taken?”
“Erm,” he flinches. “He said he was heading to a club with a friend. I dunno. And then, erm, he just didn’t come back. So we called the police.”
“And is it true you’ve been receiving death threats after the fact?” Peter intervenes.
“No.” He shakes his head almost too quickly.
