Under the stars || James McVey

chapter seventeen

Katherine’s POV

“Katherine, how wonderful to see you again.”

I walk two steps further into the foyer, my breathing seemed to have increased rapidly and I was struggling to keep myself calm. Struggling and failing completely.

“Katherine dear, don’t just stand there. Come in and join us,” I could see my mother was trying hard to stay calm herself, trying for me, I believe.

I shut the door with a slam and ball my fists at my sides, trying to keep my voice neutral. “What are you doing here?” My voice shakes along with my body as I walk further into my house. They’re just standing there, my mother, brother and of course, our guest.

“I have a few matters I’d like to discuss with you.” His voice was calm and collected, as always. His attire was familiar, with the charcoal grey business suit and faded blue shirt. His hair was a little shorter, not in his blue eyes anymore, but still held some dark curls.

I look between all three of them; my brother’s scowl lay permanently on his face as he stared at the man facing me. My mother looks a little flush and twiddles her fingers subconsciously, while the young man beside continues to stare at me with the same sympathy and sadness he did five months ago.

“What matters? What’s going on?” I ask frantically. I didn’t like the fact that he was in our home again, let alone wanting to talk specifically to me.

“Katherine,” he starts, taking a couple of steps towards me. “I’m going to need you to take a look at a couple of photos for me, ok?” Photos, was he serious? He seems to notice my confusion and places a hand on my shoulder. I look at it and then back up again, his face now wearing a solemn frown, his eyebrows creased and his hazel eyes reflecting a little sorrow. “Katherine, we’ve had a confession. We need to know if this is the person who— from that night...” He stops short and corrects himself, only taking his eyes off mine for a brief second.

Confession.

“Why now? Why, after all this time, would someone come forward now?” My brother steps in and pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. My head had started to spin and I was feeling rather faint.

“We’re not sure. Nothing adds up, we have nothing but his confession and the finger print match on the lamppost near the scene.” The dark haired man explains. He’d taken a couple of steps back and still looks at me with worry. “Katherine, we need you identify him. I can’t quite comprehend how hard this is for you, and I’m sorry that I’ve had to bring this up again, but I need your help.” He takes a deep breath before pulling out a folder from his messenger bag. He hold up a picture and looks for my approval. “Katherine, is this the man from that night?”

I study the mug shot carefully. The man had short caramel hair that was barely a couple of inches in length; his eyes were ice blue and cold. His face was angular and stern, with an eyebrow piercing in his left eyebrow, and a ring piercing in the right side of his lip. Nothing about him screams familiar but he still gave me the shivers. It wasn’t until my brother whispered my name in my ear that I snapped out of my trance and realised I’d released the waterworks when I taste salt on my lips. I quickly wipe away the odd couple of tears trailing down my face and look the suited man in the eye.

“I’m sorry Detective Wilson, but that’s not him.” I say to him, my voice still shaky.

“Katherine, take a long hard look, are you sure?” He speaks up, shaking the laminated paper in front of him.

“It’s not him,” I repeat confidently, before excusing myself and running up the stairs as fast as I can, letting the tears now fall without delay.

It could never be him. No matter who confesses, it will never be a him.

It was a her.