21 Murders | Harry Styles AU (discontinued)

III. Puppet Master

puppet master (noun): a person, group or country that covertly controls another

Harry's POV

As my knuckles meet the wooden door's hard but smooth texture, I can't help but debate if this whole idea is really something worth bringing to my father's attention. He has always been very hesitant to welcome outsider help, so I know for sure that this will either cause him to laugh at my ridiculous idea or pat me on the back with a proud grin for even entertaining the thought.

When I hear nothing from the opposite side I begin to tap my boot on the glossy floor, until suddenly, the door is pulled inward and I stand face to face with Des. His sharp uniform if ironed without a trace of wrinkles and his stone expression reminds me to stand straighter.

Starting back to his seat behind the dark cherry wood desk, he asks in a coarse voice, "what are you doing here, Harold?" Scattered papers lay on the surface of his desk along with a full cup of coffee and multiple folders with confidential stamps on the front. One single picture frame sits turned away from view, and I know exactly what pictures resides inside.

"You know the surviving victim, Noelle Robinson?" I ask, taking a seat on the leather chair.

"Of course. What about her?"

"She has given us a proposition."

Des' head shoots up with a stern look on his face, causing the wrinkles around his mouth and the bags under his eyes to harden. The movement of his hand jotting down sharp cursive halts in its spot, ink bleeding in a large circle.

"What might this said proposition be?" his eyes darken. "You know how I feel about things like this. If Ms. Robinson has agreed to answer our questions, I see no further use in her presence. So before you ask me what you are about to suggest, think what might answer will be."

It's like he can read my mind. My lips huff out a warm breath as I sit up in the stiff chair and rephrase my question. "Her offer was to help one-on-one with the case. Before you shut the idea down," I raise up a finger, "think about how much of an advantage this would be. Who could help more efficiently than the only survivor herself?"

"Are you insane?" Des flattens his palms on the counter, staring wide-eyed at me. My skin crawls under his heated glare but I stand my ground, not faltering eye contact and sticking with my word. "How could you even suggest such an idiotic idea, Harold? Did I not raise you to have common sense?" he degrades, carelessly. "What is she supposed to do: wander around the office and play lost puppy while you work? That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard."

"It isn't a stupid idea," I raise my voice, hands clenching the chair's arm rests to restrain myself from standing up and looking down on him like he does me. My voice sounds tempered but calm all at once. "The idea would only be unsuccessful if it caused the psychopath to vanish, which it won't! She is safer here with me anyway, and as for her roaming around, I'd take full responsibility in making sure nothing went wrong."

Des scoffs, "and what makes you think she isn't working for the killer, hmm? We haven't done any extensive background checks on the girl; she could be just as conniving as the son of a bitch that kidnapped her! She's probably in on it, Harold. If you weren't so blind you could see that being the first and only survivor without any mental damage whatsoever is a sign that she is lying. And you're playing right into her idea."

"Like you said, we haven't done any extensive research. Why would she purposely hurt herself and end up in a coma out in the forest near death if this was all a hoax?" I state matter-of-factly. "She was clueless when she woke up! Nobody would do that to themselves, and to get what? Attention? Jail time?"