Hard Evidence - h.s

4. you dont call any of the shots

Harry

I pushed open the front door of Veronica's town house and stood back to let her enter. Wordlessly, she slipped past me and went straight into the kitchen. I heard  her drop her keys on the tile counter.

I really shouldn't be here. Not in her home with all her personal shit, making me think of her as a person that I cared for and not the victim in one of my cases. My first instinct had been to have Georgie take her home, but then I remembered she wasn't too happy with him at the moment. Plus, I taking her home gave me the opportunity to check out her house just to make sure the suspect hadn't decided to come here to finish what he started.

Something in my gut was telling me that she needed me right now. Not some unknown officer, but me. Harry Styles. Am I delirious? I haven't felt needed in years—well, I've avoided it, actually, ever since my partner Izzy was gunned down in front of me. Sure, I took a bullet myself that day, but I had lived. She hadn't.

My hand instinctively reached for the back of my neck. My fingers landed on a scar, a raised reminder of how fast someone I loved could be taken away from me and why I was better of alone. No matter how good it felt to discover I could connect with a woman like Veronica, I'd never risk another loss.

Speaking of the devil, Veronica made her way back to me, eyes still haunted. My gut squeezed like a vise, but my finger resting on my scar kept my mind on business. "Thanks for bringing me home," she mumbled. "And if you hadn't come along—" A violent shudder wracked her body.

"You're welcome," was all I could muster up. I felt like I should've said something more, but I couldn't bring myself to. Instead, I shut the front door and took in the apartment's white walls and shiny hardwood floor. Moving boxes lined the far wall and minimal furniture filled the small living space. Fire had destroyed her home last year when a drug dealer tried to burn out the woman Veronica was protecting. This town home was so not Veronica, her walls would radiate color.

"So, when will your house be done?" I asked, timidly wiping my feet on the small welcome mat.

"How do you know about my house?" I watched her bite her lip with eyes big.

"Georgie's my partner now, remember?"

"Right." She frowned and hugged my jacket tighter.

Sorry, toots, hugging my jacket tighter wont keep me out of your business.

Partners shared a lot — Georgie and I were like an old married couple in so many ways— and I knew quite a bit about Veronica's life. Honestly probably more than she'd likely want the man who'd once rejected her to know.

I didn't press her any more about the house though. The sooner I did my check and got out of there, the better for the both of us. "Okay, um, I'm gonna do a quick walk-through of the house then take off so you can rest."

"Y-you think he came here?" Her voice rose in alarm.

"Nah," I said nonchalantly, trying to calm the renewed fear sparking in her eyes. "But it'd be a good idea to make sure. You stay here."

I didn't wait for her permission and went down the hall. I made sure to check each room, each window, to be sure the locks were secured and the blinds closed. As I headed back to Veronica, satisfied at the security of her town home so far, my cell phone rang, making me jump.

"What's up, Georgie?" I answered, passing by the kitchen and seeing Veronica making coffee.

"The suspect got away."

"Fuck," I said under my breath. "What happened?"

"Does it really matter? He's gone, Harry."

"Then it's up to us to bring him in!" The optimism in my voice was forced. Unless the scene provided any strong leads, I couldn't really be sure if we'd catch him.