shadow [h.s.]

e l e v e n t h

The morning came softly, creeping into Harry's small window like a sliver of sunlight from a half-cracked door. Harry was awake first, seemingly studying my face and twirling a section of my dark, black hair in his fingers.

"We slept together," he commented in a flat voice, not too happy, not too regretful.

I swore and sat up. "We did."

I looked at Harry, locking gazes, and then started laughing. He followed suit, both of us trying to hold back the laughter but couldn't, because who slept with a murderer? 

Apparently I did.

We ended up lying back into the soft duvet, turning the TV on to watch Reba. We laughed and ate Skittles at 8:00 in the morning, which ended up in me eating all the green ones and Harry all the red ones, and fighting over the yellow, purple and blue. And all the while, I just didn't feel regretful. I wish I had, because maybe then I would've been able to sort out my feelings. But I didn't, I felt peaceful and happy. Maybe it was because I was still half asleep, or maybe it was because I had convinced myself we were just friends, but it felt okay.

It felt good.

It felt right.

-x-

After I had showered and gotten dressed, we ate breakfast and I picked at my Cheerio's. Harry stared at me from across the table. "Do you have work today?" He asked in a raspy voice; still worn from unuse for 8 or 9 hours.

I smile. "Thankfully, no. It's my day off." 

Harry blinked and flickered his eyes across the room. "So, you going to take me back to Bentley?"

I stopped between spooning the Cheerio's into my mouth and reaching for my glass of milk. "I honestly didn't think about that," I confessed. Harry seemed so ethereal to me, so uncanny. So unmurderous.

"Maybe I could take you with me to the crime scenes," I said after I drank more milk. "I'm going to every one except for my father's. To look for clues, y'know." I smiled. "The like."

Harry's eyes looked frightened, a little worried. "I don't know-"

"Look, Harry," I said, frustrated. "You're not answering any of my other questions. I'm going to have to solve this by myself." I banged my spoon down onto the table. "Can you honestly tell me you're a murderer?"

Silence reigned. The tension in the room was so thick you could've spread it on your toast as jam. Harry looked tense and worn out.

Finally, he moved. He rested his head in his hands and shook his head. "No, I can't."

I could barely dare to breathe. This was the first question Harry had actually answered, and he had answered as I thought he would. I studied him carefully. He looked exhausted; tired and worn out from keeping his secret.

"Why didn't you just tell me that?" I demanded, leaning forward and lowering my voice as if someone was listening.

"Because," he continued, sighing. "Would you have believed me?"

Our gazes locked from across the table; green and blue. I knew I wouldn't have believed him. And neither would've Mr. Denton or Leighton. It was only after that fateful day at the library I realized Harry had been innocent.

"Listen," I said slowly and softly. "This is dangerous, okay? If I go into the NYPD today and say you're innocent with absolutely no evidence, they'll fire me and lock you up for the rest of your life." My eyes hardened onto the table. "We'll go to the crime scenes today and get some evidence."

"We?" He asked, voice cracking.

"Yes, we. I'm not doing this by myself." I winked playfully and Harry smiled, laughing.

I grabbed my purse and briefcase, switched the lights off and motioned for Harry to follow me down to my Nexus. It wasn't until we were at the car that Harry spoke. "Sky?" He asked. "Do you agree with me?"

I turned to face him. Our cards were both on the table; hearts on our sleeves. This was the moment where I could boost Harry's ego or tear it down with a single word. The moment where trust played a significant factor in our relationship.

"I've believed that you weren't a murderer since the day I saw you hand that little girl her balloon, Harry," I explained softly. "And I don't know why, but it's just," I paused and raked a hand through my hair. "Something about you. You're not a murderer. You're a sweet, caring boy whose gotten tangled up with the wrong people at the wrong times." I smiled. "At least, that's my theory."

Little did I know how true that theory was.

-x-

DETECTIVE SKYLER JACOBS; CASE 1145 NOTES / EVIDENCE

Marilyn Gaunt; 789 49th Street, Manhattan

body still outlined on floor. building otherwise empty. neighbour (Patrick Jones) mentioned Gaunt was a local newspaper woman. found journal with flower print underneath sofa. taking this in to study.

Jennifer Hellespont; 560 49th Street, Manhattan

body still outlined on floor. dusty- very ununsed. apartment complex. curtains all closed. questioned landowner (Bette Keaton). she mentioned Hellespont was the librarian for the local school. very religious woman- crucifix on wall, Bible and journal found underneath sofa. journal has the exact same print as Gaunt's. taking the journal in to study.

Kelly Marshall; 408 49th Street, Manhattan

body still outlined on floor. relatively clean. blood stain still on ground. rather expensive, old antiques decorating apartment. (Harry broke a vase while mimicking Rose from Titanic, but I will replace it.) we found a job application for a teaching position at the local school on her desk, along with the same type of journal found in Gaunt's and Hellespont's apartments. taken to study.

Kitty Jones; 229 49th Street, Manhattan

only subject who wasn't killed in their own home. house is relatively neat; typical of young, middle-aged librarian. CD's of The Fray, Ingrid Michaelson and the 1975 were found in her player. the exact same make and model of journal as found in Marshall, Gaunt and Hellespont was found on Jones' dresser. taken in to study.

OFFICIAL DETECTIVE REPORT; SKYLER JACOBS, CASE 1145 - VERIFICATION ID 4459930

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A/N : wow ohmygosh this is so late, sorry. please vote and comment!!