Chasing Freedom

Pawn by pawn, they will all fall

Harry POV:

I forcefully threw down the phone with a loud thud, before resting my head in my hands on my police desk, lowering my head to stare directly to the wooden surface of that desk. I frustratedly brushed my hands through my brown curls, while loudly sighing in defeat.

"You clearly seem to be a morning person," the chipper tone of Louis chuckled, alerting me of his arrival. I didn't need to look up and check if it was him. Just by the obnoxious chipper voice, I could tell it was him. Only he could be this annoyingly awake in the mornings – no one else in the precinct got on everyone's nerves with his obnoxious energy level this early.

His energetic mood in the mornings always brought out this murderous side of me where I wanted to silence him so I could wake up in peace. It has come to the point a few times where I almost strangled him to dead for sounding to happy in the morning. I mean which sane person can be happy that it is morning? No one in their sane mind could, that's who!

I wasn't the only one who felt this way, judging by the many grunts and groans that erupted the moment he set foot in the building. My colleagues must've viewed mornings as sacred as I.

It's not like we all hated the Louis, because that wasn't the case. He was actually quite liked among us officers, because he was one of the only detectives that treated us as equals. There was mutual respect between us, mostly noticeable after lunchbreak when most morning slumbers were slowly dissolved by then. He might've been a bit of an eccentric figure, and someone you wouldn't peg to be a detective – yet he was one of the best here and one that garnered my respect when he kept me on the Camila's stalker case.

I heard him softly place something on the desk besides where I had lowered my head, but I couldn't be bothered to even look up to check what it was. Besides I didn't need my eyes to know exactly what it was. A strong whiff of freshly hot coffee entered my nostrils, giving me enough clues to what it was.

Even without the smell I would be able to tell that he brought me a cup of coffee, because it was one of the other reasons why Louis was liked in this precinct. He always brewed enough coffee at the coffee table a few feet from my desk for the entire precinct, as soon as he came into work. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was the only one awake enough to operate the machine without breaking it.

"Okay, something must really be bothering you, if you haven't even taken a sip of your coffee yet," Louis observed, his voice coming from closely next me. "Tell me what's going on?"

I reluctantly lifted my head up, slightly tilting it in the direction of his voice to meet his face, which was filled with concern. "Our It-guy just called back with information about Camila's laptop, and it's another dead-end," I grumbled, pointing one finger to the phone on my desk.

"What did he say?" Louis curiously inquired, his blue eyes softening in understanding. He knew just how important this case was for me, and how close to home it hit. Every other detective would've pulled me off the case with this kind of involvement, but I was grateful he kept me on board.

"Something about having no evidence of a breach, so there is no signal to trace and no trace is no way of tracking him," I sighed in defeat, rubbing my temples between my both hands.

"But how did he get access to the camera of her laptop? I mean he must've gotten in somehow?" Louis mumbled barely audible, seemingly deep in thought, while leaning his back against the front of my desk. I couldn't help but notice him pushing his glasses back up his nose with one finger. It was one of the signs he was thinking over some theory that was brewing in his brain.

"I asked the same question to our It-guy. Turns her stalker must've had his hands on her laptop beforehand to give himself access to her webcam. The log of which IP-addresses had remote access to her webcam were conveniently refreshed and wiped clean hours before the laptop was turned in. He has once again covered his tracks, always staying on step in front of us," I angrily growled before translating my frustration by slamming my fist on the desk.