Agent Kelly Tomlinson

Eighteen.

The early September evening air in London was chilly to a girl wearing spaghetti straps and a dress that barely covers her ass. Ryan offered me his security jacket and after I said no to it, he draped it around my shoulders anyway.

I didn't text Louis where I was going. I was still pissed at him for discussing my life with Ryan of all people, someone he didn't even like. If he wanted to say something, he should have came to me first. Although I can appreciate the concern, I would have felt better for him to talk to me. Another reason why I was mad was because he didn't handle it well either. He literally ignored me the rest of the night. A little dramatic is what I would say, but whatever. I was over it at the moment.

As for Harry. I hope he had fun with that blonde beautiful bimbo from the club. Maybe it would deter me away from any sort of feelings I might have for him. Ugh. The word feelings in that context makes me want to gag. I can't have feelings for Harry Styles. No way. I'm Kelly freaking Tomlinson. I don't have feelings.

Ryan and I followed the police sirens and the roars of fire truck engines to a gated block in Central London, where many wealthier families lived. Louis and Harry lived a couple streets down.

People were gathered everywhere. Police, firemen, EMTs, reporters, bystanders, and neighbors. Everyone in uniform reminded me to send a text to Brianna, asking if she could meet me here.

After showing our badges, Ryan and I walked up the driveway to a very large mansion. The side of the home where the garage was had been majorly damaged. The sides were black and ashy. Firemen were still working to make sure it was secure to walk through before detectives could enter. Other than that, the remainder of the house looked to be in tact but there was one other factor to this report. Who was missing?

"Agent Kelly." Sargent Davis approached Ryan and I. He looked me up and down, taking note of my outfit, which he obviously disapproved of. Lucky for me, he didn't say anything of it.

I was immediately reminded of the phone call I had gotten from my father and felt a strong desire to clock him across the face for telling on me like a five year old.

"Sargent." I greeted through clenched teeth. I didn't bother introducing him to Ryan. Ryan was already aware of Davis and his behavior towards the agency. I wasn't going to waste my breath for the bastard.

"This one is up your alley." He said, not bothering to show a care in the world about who my partner was.

Our alley! I wanted to scream. This is both of our city!

"How so?" Ryan asked for me after watching my face slowly turn red, and it wasn't just from the glow of the police lights.

"Amelia Jacobis. 18." Sargent Davis led us through the house via the front door. Inside was large and open. Our voices echoed through the walls. It looked more like a hotel lobby than a home. Built more for the appeal than for the comfort and coziness of a family home. "She lived here with her mother and father, Patricia and Cole. Her bedroom shows signs of a struggle. Knocked over pictures, messy bed sheets, and over tossed dresser. The girl put up one hell of a fight."

"And she's missing?" I asked.

"Nowhere to be found. Her mother said she's never had a history of sneaking out. She was supposed to be sleeping at home tonight. She had a big tennis match scheduled for tomorrow. Her mother was vacationing with her sisters in Bermuda."

"What about the father?" I asked.

Sargent Davis grew solemn and stuffed his hands into his front pockets. "Cole Jacobis didn't make it. From what we can tell, gun shot wound to the head. We believe he was on his way to his daughter's room when the explosion went off. I'll take you to him."