Agent Kelly Tomlinson

Fifty Five.

"Honey, you've barely eaten anything tonight. Are you feeling alright?" My mom asked me from across the table.

We were sitting in a fancy Italian restaurant with Louis, Eleanor, Harry, and Lottie. I had barely spoken a word to anyone, not being able to concentrate on anything other than picturing Ryan shooting Marco in the head. Harry didn't pressure me into questions like it was a sixth sense of his to leave the subject alone. But I knew his curiosity was eating away at his insides and I was going to have to explain everything later.

"I think it's just a side effect from the pain medicine." I said. I moved my fork around in my salad, playing with my food until my stomach settled down enough for me to take a bite without vomiting.

"Does it still hurt?" Lottie asked.

"My arm does when I move it too much," I answered. "And my stitches are more uncomfortable now than anything."

"Harry, how's your mom?" My mom changed the topic and moved on to a lighter subject.

"She's doing well, thank you. I've booked a flight to go visit her next week. I'll let her know you were asking about her." Harry said. His left hand slid under the table to rest atop my thigh in a comforting gesture. It was like he could read my mind.

The security footage didn't make sense. If the man in the video with a barcode tattoo was in fact Ryan, why the hell would he want to kill Marco? He didn't rob his place, and as far as I know, he and Marco didn't have any bad blood between them. In fact, they were considered friends. So what the hell could have been the link between Ryan the murderer and Marco the victim?

I never thought of Ryan to be a ruthless killer outside of the job. He was always honest and loyal when he was around me. He had a love for the job and a love for his friends and family. The puzzle pieces just didn't fit together.

But then again, Ryan has been acting weird for the last couple of months. He's worn down, stressed, and easily agitated. He hasn't been sleeping and will ignore me for days at a time. He got a tattoo, the same tattoo as the killer's, even though body ink in the agency isn't allowed and he had a distaste for them anyway. I knew there was something bigger messing around in his brain to make him act negatively different, and I always planned on talking to him about it, but never would I think it would escalate to a situation like this.

Thinking about it made my stomach queasy. Ryan was the person I was supposed to trust the most with my life. He is the one I rely on to protect me and keep me safe when we're away on a case. But that can't be him. Not anymore. He doesn't step in front of a bullet for you, he pulls the trigger. He doesn't protect you, he hurts you. And he won't keep you safe, you're in danger. If I can't trust Ryan, who else can't I trust?

"Are you going to eat that?" Louis reached over the table and grabbed my bread stick before I could even react.

"Louis," Eleanor scolded.

"Honey," My mom narrowed her eyes at me. "Are you sure you're alight?"

I looked around the table at my family, my incredible boyfriend, and Louis's perfect half. I should have been happy to be here. I should be scarfing down this delicious meal and ordering dessert. But instead, I felt shaky and depressed. Angry and confused. And I wasn't going to feel good until I figured this out.

"No," I said softly and looked back up at my mother. Her face dropped with worry. "I'm sorry." I stood up and placed my napkin on the table. "I've got to go."