CHAPTER XXVII. EVIDENCE
A few hours later and Harry was driving his car back home, only this time I was in the passenger seat beside him. I had ran inside to dress, wrapping up warm in a heavy jumper and jeans, before we decided to leave. His hand was positioned over the material of my thigh and his cologne filled the air of the vehicle, I felt suddenly free. I had to trust Harry. Out of everybody, he was the one to connect with me on such a personal level. I wouldn't get that again; our relationship was too personal for secrets. At least, that's what I hoped.

'What are you thinking about?' Harry interrupts my thoughts, his thumb making circles over my leg and igniting butterflies deep at the pit of my stomach. His usual look had returned to his face, his typical smirk pulling at his lips and he seemed like Harry again; the Harry I had grown to love. Love. It seemed satisfyingly strange to admit.

'About you.' I state, noticing how his lips had drawn into a confident smile. I nudge his arm playfully. 'Oh, you're happy about that?'

'What about me?'

'How I trust you.' I tell him and his hand moves from my thigh to reach for mine. His fingers intertwine through mine over the gearstick. I watch the road as we drive, the sun now casting bright rays of red beams onto the ground. In that moment, I wanted us to turn around and drive somewhere far away from here. To run away from everything that had happened in Bridgemont Valley, to run away from the secrets we had kept and to run away from investigation as a whole. But I knew we couldn't do that. It was too good to be true; but were Harry and I ultimately too good to be true anyway? 'There's something else too.'

'Spill it.' He instructs, his hand still latched to mine.

'Are we definitely going to work?' I begin and he raises an eyebrow. 'I don't mean it that way. I just mean, it's 1986, we're two teenagers from opposite sides of the spectrum and that makes me doubtful. You're so high class, what would your father think of us if he knew who I really was? That I'm not a rich doctor, I'm a working class girl who's obsessed with literature.'

'I wouldn't want to fall in love with anyone other than a girl who's obsessed with literature.' He reassures me, glancing to the road ahead in thought, before opening his mouth once again. 'Don't worry about my father, he's just naturally strict; he was brought up that way and unfortunately, I can't change him. It will be alright, everything will be alright.'

'I hope so.'

'I know so.'

We both head into his home once his car is parked, feeling the winter air instantly. I shiver as I wrap my hands around my arms, Harry's arms doing the same over my shoulders. 'I don't think I like winter. I like summer, where the sky is pretty and the weather is tolerable.'

'Me too, baby.' He agrees, I flush from his use of nickname, unlocking the front door and allowing me inside first. His hands hurriedly close it before heading to the thermostat, already finding it turned on. 'Someone else is here.'

'Who?' I ask, still frozen in the hallway but feeling relief in the heat.

'Marcia?' He calls one of his maids but nobody answers. A footstep catches us off guard as we both turn to lay eyes on Harry's father, stepping in from the kitchen and into the dining room. An off-white apron was slung over his shoulders, and his eyes flashed with surprise before melting into a friendly gaze. At least, I thought it was friendly. He turns to me as an emotion of worry registers over his face, but makes sure to cover it swiftly.

'The maids have finished their shift. It's just me.' His father's low voice booms between the four walls. Harry shrugs his winter coat from his shoulders, hanging it up over the marble coat rack. 'What are you kids up to?' His eyes find mine before soon catching Harry's.

'We were going to watch a movie.' Harry answers for me, stepping further into the hallway towards his father. His father nodded in reply before glancing into the kitchen.

'Well, you two just get on with it. I'm just going to clean up in here.' He points towards the kitchen and I scan his figure. His hair was balding at what seemed a rapid rate, his hair disappearing at the edges and even from random spots within. It had decreased a lot since I had last saw him. The colour of his face had slightly drained too, changing from a reddish pale to a ghostly grey. Maybe he was just stressed with work?

Harry's hand wrapped around mine as his father left back for the kitchen. He gently led me over to his sofa, us both falling backwards against the plush material. My hand smoothed over the fabric, feeling it's expensive texture and finish. My parents wouldn't be able to afford Harry's sofa, never-mind his home.

I wondered about being brought up in a rich home as Harry stood up, moving to search for a VHS movie tape to watch in the cabinet under the television. A loud slam of a cupboard vibrates through the walls from the kitchen. The memory of Harry and I being here on the night of finding Blake arrives to my mind, how he had made a pass at me and we had argued. He had changed so much since then and I found myself thankful for how mature he had became. I guess finding Blake had matured both of us before our time.

A movement from the hallway catches my eye and I peer over to find Harry's father, moving hastily from the kitchen and towards the stairs. However, he misses the staircase and heads to the left side of them, disappearing into an undiscovered corridor. Harry's home was full of places I hadn't seen, it was huge compared to mine; but I found myself grimace at the idea of being alone inside such an enormous space. As these thoughts raced through my mind, I was distracted by something on the floor; left behind in Harry's father's trail. I felt Harry join me on the sofa again, reaching for the remote and switching on the television; but I couldn't shift my eyes from the dark red spot on the wooden floor. It seemed that it had dripped from his father as he had stepped away.

Adrenaline seeped through my veins, along with panic and fright and disbelief, as I tried to make out what the substance was. Was it... blood? No, it couldn't be. He couldn't be involved in anything like that, he was a vacuum-cleaner inventor.

'I'll go get us a blanket, baby.' Harry states once the television is flashing with images, but his tone seemed more like he was questioning. His eyes find mine, flashing with seriousness, but I force a smile his way and he leaves to head upstairs.

I'm left alone with only the sound of the television before me and the overwhelming thoughts in my mind. Things were becoming clearer to me and I wished they would stop. Harry's father couldn't be a suspect, surely not? But, he's the only other person other than Harry to live here; the only other suspect for Nico's murder. He was on a business trip, but couldn't he have returned just at the right moment? I thought about the knife in the cupboard, the thick crimson substance inside of the tub containing it; then, the memory of his apron and the spot of blood. My hands push myself up from the sofa and I trail over to it, crouching down to observe it; it looked exactly like blood, it had to be blood. I felt like the room was spiralling around me as I rapidly stood from my crouched position. My hands flew to my head in disbelief as I took in all of these new clues, all pointing towards Harry's father.

I thought about the first time I had met him.

His hand reached out to me and I felt this was a good time to scan him properly. As our hands connected in the handshake, his blazer sleeve budged up and revealed the white shirt underneath it. My eyebrows furrowed as I noticed red dots all along the sleeve. It seemed that Harry's father wasn't prim and proper after all.

'Oh, just some ketchup.' He was quick to confirm after I had noticed. 'There's a hot dog stand where I work and I just can't resist.' He chuckles and I do too, in order to fill the otherwise awkward atmosphere. 'Anyway, you kids get back to doing what you want to do. I'll be upstairs working if you need me.'

I thought about his frequent business trips.

'Do you feel better?' I ask Harry. It was the morning after finding Blake, straight after he had used the pay phone to anonymously call the police.

'Do you?'

'Yeah.'

'I guess I do.' He glanced toward me with a little grin pulling at either side of his mouth. 'Can you come back to my place?'

I raise an eyebrow at his request.

'I don't mean like that.' He began, 'My dad left on a business trip yesterday and I feel a bit too spooked to be alone after what happened in Rocky Trails. I'll invite the others too.'

Why was his father on a business trip when Blake was murdered? Why was he on a business trip when Nico was murdered? Was it to cover up his tracks? My hand flies over my mouth and tears escape from the barriers of my eyes, as I realise I knew better than anybody else who the main suspect was. I knew, with every fibre of my being, with every ounce of my mind, with every hint of my intuition, that Harry's father could be the killer.

'What's wrong? What's happened?' I hear Harry's voice and peer up to find him drop the blanket onto the floor, his foot stepping directly over the spot of blood as he joins my side. His arms go to wrap around my shoulders but I hold him firmly at a distance. His eyebrows furrow and his crimson lips draw into a straight line.

'Harry, I'm so sorry.' I stutter out, sobbing uncontrollably and feeling hesitant of what to say. His father was his only parent left, and here I was accusing him. But something made me suspect him, these clues weren't coincidences. Deep down, I knew it. 'I'm sorry.'

'Sorry about what?' He loses contact with me, his arms falling to his sides as his eyes flash with worry and concern. His face grows serious, more serious than ever, as he awaits my answer. My mouth opens and a look registers over his face, and I could tell he was suspecting me to admit being the killer myself. I even thought, in some fucked up way, that it'd be easier if that was the case.

'Harry, your father...' I feel like I can't breathe. Harry grows defensive, stepping closer to me in haste.

'What about my father, Andy? What about him?' He questions, his hand running through his hair and his breath growing ragged.

'I think your father is the killer.' I peer to the ground to await his response. Silence fills the air for a few seconds, causing me to eventually peer up to him and take in the complete betrayal in his features.

'What the fuck, Andy?' He raises his voice and I gesture for him to keep it down, worried that his father may hear; wherever he was. 'You don't get to do that! You don't get to bring the only person in my family into this! He hasn't done anything wrong! Don't do this, Andy!'

'I'm so sorry, Harry.' My voice is so silent compared to his and I feel weak against his words. Sorry didn't have much meaning anymore, it had been used too much between us, whether that was to our group of friends or to Blake's family at the funeral. Sorry didn't mean shit now.

Harry interrupts my thoughts by punching the dry wall beside the front door and I flinch. His knuckles are red with blood as he turns away, back to me, with disgust radiating from his expression.

'Get out.'

'Andy, get out.' It takes me a few seconds to realise he is speaking to me and my heart feels as though it had split open, just as Harry had done to the front door. He tried to steady his breathing, as he held it open.

'Get the fuck out of here! And don't come back!'

'No, Harry, you aren't thinking straight.' I move closer to him and he grimaces, but I knew he wouldn't hurt me. My hands find his arms, running my touch over them in desperate comfort.

'I'm not thinking straight?' A mock laugh runs into the air between us and I wonder how Harry's father hadn't heard us yet. I lose all common sense as I launch at Harry, holding his face between my hands and trying to touch his lips with my own; a desperate attempt of reconciliation. But he, still softly, shoves my grip away and looks to the floor; waiting for me to leave.

My tears still run from my eyes as I step out into the deathly bitter air and fall to the step, perching there. I hear his door slam shut behind me as my head falls into my hands and I cry and cry and cry, finally realising that things were never going to be stable after all.

(Sorry about taking so long with these updates - I'm going to try and improve my updating schedule. Hope you're still enjoying!)