Greetings, H.T. | Larry Stylinson

• investigation •

Rick sighed as he entered the older-looking house, walking past the vines growing up the outside-walls and grass almost higher than his knees.

Yes, he got that there was a body found here, facing the fact that this house was practically abandoned.

The smell, not the only thing that was talked about as horrified, was enormously noticable, especially when walking towards the livingroom - disgusting. It was muf, plain, rotten away and straight up gross, but as head-investigator, this was part of his job.

There were a few other men and women - some recognized, some new -inside, one walking up to him and saying, "We found blood on the basement doorknob and this little book underneath the first step of the chairs, it was tucked in somehow."

The man telling Rick this, was a small guy, hair shaven down and piercing blue eyes. He was holding up a small, leather-covered journal with slight bloodstains, yellow-shaded papers sticking out.

Rick took it from him, turned it around in sight and opened it with a single hand. "Thanks, James." He murmured while looking down.

Scrabbled poems were written on the pages, all seeming like some kind of diary, story-telling, and he wanted to read all of it.

For the sake of the victim.

He turned the pages quickly, every single one, knowing he would take the time to read it later on, but reaching the most essential - last - one, all there was to be found was a shredded stripe of paper to the innerside of the book.

"We need to find the last page." Rick told the small, James, in front of him, "Tell everyone to search for it."

It was only an hour later, clock ticking just past twelve, that one of the other investigators, a girl who just started out, came up to Rick with the page in her hand. "Underneath the body, burried in the gravel." She said, "It's wrinkled but readable."

Rick nodded and thanked her, walking outside and wiping the last bits of dirt from the paper.

There were cuts in it, it seemed to be eaten even and bloodstains were all over the top, but the words were clear as he lightened it up with the sun.

As Rick walked back into the house, he asked, "It's been three years since he's dead, how come that they've never searched here?" while walking up to James once again.

"Police received a tip by Louis Tomlinson, ex-partner," James walked up to an improvised desk to get a report from it, Rick following closely. "saying that he had seen Harry walking into the woods."

"But, if they didn't find anything, why didn't they go back into the house?"

James shrugged, "All doors were locked except for the front one, no one else having the key."

"They could've barged it open, or am I wrong on that? They did it when the couple moved in." Rick said sternly, "It's weird, this case."

James handed over the report, "We could always reconsider calling Tomlinson, he might give some answers?"

"Didn't he live here in the past as well?"

"Yeah, he did." The small man nodded.

"I bet he lied about not having the key."