Phantom [h.s]

Forty

I don't know exactly where I'm going after I leave Harry in my room. Somewhere to cool down. I don't like fighting with him, but some things needed to be talked about.

For instance, that fact that Ava was pregnant.

The way that Harry got so defensive puts me on edge. Is he hiding other things from me? Why would he feel the need to? If he wants me to help him, why would he keep things from me? Does he not trust me?

Clearly he trusts me, if he chose me to help him in the first place. That question is easily answered. However, I feel that the side of him that may be keeping things from me is a remnant of his personality when he was alive.

"Stop talking, Jane." If he wasn't numb, I would've slapped him.

I end up sitting on the top step of the staircase, resting my chin in my palm. I look up at the chandelier, trying to stop thinking about Harry.

I hear a door shut and footsteps before Harry comes and sits beside me on the step.

"You're right, I'm wrong," he says.

"That's not new," I say, looking away from him.

He lets out a light laugh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry, really," he says. "I should've told you about Ava and everything."

"Yeah, you should've."

"Look at me."

I sigh, slowly turning my head to look at him. He reaches out and takes my hand.

"We're a team," he says. "You're all I got now, and you're doing great. Just don't listen to anything I say ever because I'm a moron and we both know that."

I crack a smile and Harry laughs.

"All right," I say. "If we're a team, I have some work to do." I release his hand and stand up.

"Where are you going?"

"To speak to a suspect."

"Who?"

-

The door to Mel's Diner swings shut behind me and I ask the hostess for a booth. She smiles, nodding and leading me to a booth in the corner of the restaurant, handing me a menu.

Ian walks in a few minutes later, offering me a small smile as he sits down across from me.

"So, you wanna talk more about the case?" He asks, shrugging off his jacket and folding his hands on the table. The waitress comes by with a menu for him.

"Yes," I answer. "I just have a few more questions."

He nods. "Shoot."

I take a deep breath, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest. "What were you doing the night Harry died?"