*warning* this chapter does require a lot of thinking/paying attention to detail. i'm purposely trying to leave you a little confused at the end of it, but you don't want to leave yourself absolutely clueless. this is an IMPORTANT chapter, so please try to stay focused.
also please remember the majority of this chapter is just assumptions. some things aren't necessarily the actual truth.
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'Hot Shot'
"Harry," Molly's soft voice calls to me. Her hand gently strokes my hair, and she repeats my name again.
I bury my face in my pillow, pulling the comforter up over my body. I want to savor every last bit of sleep that I can get, but it's obvious that she's trying to wake me up.
Gently, she laughs, "Come on, get up."
I keep my eyes shut. Carefully, she rustles underneath the comforter and I can feel her sneaky movements. It's clear that she's trying to find a different way to get me to wake up. However, I don't give her enough time to come with a plan. I sweep over in an attempt to stop her. I wrap my arms around her, resting my head on her collarbone, and trapping her so that she can't bug me.
"We have to leave for the dealership soon," she reminds me. Her hands hook underneath my face, trying to pull me off of her, but she fails.
I don't want to be reminded of that. We might find something, but there's also a high chance that we won't find anything. That place is a mystery to me, and right now I want to sleep, rather than worry about what lurks in that building.
She tries to pull me off of her a second time, but failure inevitably resurfaces, "It isn't that hard to at least respond. Give me something to work with, H."
"Lay with me for a minute," I lazily mumble, keeping my eyes closed. I tighten my hands around her waist, slowly sliding further on top of her.
"If I do, I'm going to fall back asleep," she answers. Nonetheless, her hands travel back up, twirling the ends of my hair. "You already look halfway there yourself."
"'Cause I'm tired," I huff, exhaustion coating my tone.
"Well, I have something for you," she alerts my attention. "Do you want to see?"
"Do I have to get up to see it?" I keep my same position, not moving a muscle.
"You'd have to open your eyes," she responds.
"Then no."
"You're impossible!" she tries to sit up, but my weight holds her down, "At least let me get up."
"And pass up the chance to annoy you? No way," I tease, holding her down tighter.
She reaches her hand down, pinching my side. I jolt upward in discomfort and my eyes open. I quickly bat her hand away from me, hating the feeling.
"See, it wasn't that hard to open your eyes," she taunts back.
I roll off of her, back over to my side of the bed, "I'm jus' tired. We were out for a while last night."
We got back from my old house late last night. We stayed on the balcony for over two hours, talking and looking up at the stars. After we got down, we stopped, did Zayn's favors, and eventually returned to the motel. I took a shower for less than ten minutes, and when I got done, Molly was already asleep. It took me longer to get comfortable because I was so worried about today. My consequence for not sleeping is exhaustion.
"Can I at least give you my gift now that you're up?" she bargains. "Then I'll let you sleep for a little longer."
I sit up, "Alright, but I'm makin' you lay with me. Be prepared."
She pulls something off of the nightstand, tucking it behind her back, "It's not really an exciting gift," she down-plays it. "Just let me explain why I'm giving you it before you get too underwhelmed."
"Molly, you could literally gift me a piece of paper with your name on it, and I'd be satisfied," I assure her. "I highly doubt I'll be underwhelmed."
"It's not a piece of paper, but it does have my name on it," she cryptically answers. From behind her, she reveals the small locket I once gifted her. Surely enough, printed on the top of it is her name, exactly how I wrote it.
"You're re-gifting me my locket?" I tease. It's not underwhelming at all. Judging by the look on her face, I can tell that there's some clever explanation.
She picks up my hand, placing the necklace inside of it, "No, I just..." she pauses, trying to find the right thing to say. "Just promise me you won't open it, please?"
"What's inside of it?" I give her a hard time purposely. I look at its exterior, tempted to pop it open.
"Well, on one side is a picture of us from the photo booth," she answers. "And the other side is a surprise. You just can't open it until I tell you to."
"Which photo booth picture?" I inquire.
"The one where you're flipping me off," she shrugs proudly. "I felt like it really... captured your personality as a whole."
"You're evil," I wrap the necklace around my neck, clipping it on. "I like that."
"Just please don't open it," she repeats, lifting up my hand again. She tucks my palm into a fist, kissing my knuckles. "It's really important to me."
"I won't," I promise her.
My promise truly is sincere, but I think I already have an idea of what's inside.
---
The dealership is colder than I remember it being.
The hallway is longer, the air is quieter. I'm the first one inside, but I don't want to be. Zayn and Molly are behind me, Jess is still at the door.
"I open my shop in about twenty minutes," Jess calls from the door. "Don't come through this door, unless you know that zero customers are here."
"We've got it. Thank you," Molly waves her off. She speeds up her walk, leveling her pace out with mine.
All of the doors to each room are open, and light from each window brightens the gray walls. Pictures hang near my head. Ones of cars, ones of my parents. I stop to admire one them. It's a picture with both of my parents posing in front of the lobby. I took it.
Shaking my head, I continue to walk down the hall. Since we're coming in from the back of the dealership, everything is reversed. The lobby is furthest from us, but all of the offices are right here.
We walk past my mother's office first. I peek my head inside, looking at the memories I once forgot. Hers was always vibrant. Colorful rugs, fun chairs. Her desk is neatly organized and next to the door is a basket of old candy. She used to bring it around to kids in the lobby when their parents were shopping for cars. They would always venture down this hallway, find her, and beg her for more. It was the cutest thing.
"Remind me what we're looking for again?" Zayn's the first one to speak.
"Anything that proves my dad was guilty," I quietly answer, my voice echoing through the building. "He murdered those kids in this dealership with drugs, so if we can find something- or any proof of that, then that'd be a start."
"What drug?" Zayn questions.
"No clue," I shake my head. "Oh, and look for stuff connecting my parents to yours."
That's the main reason Zayn is on this trip: to find evidence proving my father framed and tossed his parents in jail. It benefits us both, so if we can find solid evidence to prove that, then we should be on the right track.
We finally make it to my father's office, and it's exactly what I was expecting. A desk shoved in the back corner, filing cabinets lining the walls. A couple of big, comfortable chairs to lounge in. My mother helped him decorate it, and I remember how happy he was to see the design she created for the space.
Now everything just looks useless and abandoned.
"I'll look through the desk," I volunteer. If there's something in there, I want to be the one to find it.
"I can check the other office," Zayn volunteers, referring to my mother's. "Then after about a half hour, we can switch."
"That works," Molly nods. "I'll check around the rest of the place."
Zayn exits out of the doorway, but Molly stays behind. Figuring she's going to leave, I sigh and sit myself down in my father's desk chair. I look around the area, trying to decide where to start. My mind wanders from the files stacked in the corner, to the picture frames lining the desk. I hate that seeing pictures of us together overwhelms me, but they do.
"You were a cute kid," Molly picks up one of the frames. "How old were you in this picture?"
I look at it. I'm knelt down in the sand on some beach with my hair soaking wet, my mother's sunglasses over my eyes, and a little drink in my hand. It's just me in the picture, but my father's shadow is in the corner, proving he's responsible for taking the image.
"Four or five," I squint my eyes, trying to determine my age.
She gently sets it back down, "I know I said I'd go check out the rest of the place, but if you want me to stay in here with you, I can."
"I've got it," I promise her, "but you can stay if you want. I won't stop you."
Please stay.
"I'll go check down the hall, and if I don't find anything, I'll come back," she suggests, reaching down. She places a quick kiss on my cheek, slowly making her way towards the door. She shoots me a worried glance as she leaves, biting back more of what she wants to say.
The second she leaves, I pick the picture frame she tampered with back up. I set it back in its exact position, and move on with my search.
Any sort of proof works. Proof that he has drugs, proof that he forged my handwriting, proof that he framed Zayn's parents for fraud, anything. I just need something proves he could've been guilty, and then at least I'll have a lead.
I search and search through his drawers first, but end up with nothing. Just a bunch of pens, notepads, records. No handwritten documents or anything. With little luck, I move over to his filing cabinet. I use the key from inside of his desk to unlock the drawers, and I start pulling files out. They're organized alphabetically, so I'll work my way through everything.
I start with the letter A, working my way through each little file.
File A, nothing.
B, nothing.
C, nothing.
D, nothing.
E, nothing.
F, nothing.
G, nothing.
But I stop at the file for the letter H.
Instead of the folder being filled with car records and other business requirements like the rest of them, its filled with a completely different set of papers.
It's filled with Harry.
The entire folder, from start to finish is filled with me. Pictures of me and him, drawings I made of us when I was a kid, achievements and awards that I got from school.
I pick out one of the little drawings and immediately feel a piece of my heart break. When I was younger, I always saw my dad as a giant. He was the height that I am now, but since I was a little kid, his height was all that I perceived him as. The drawing is messy stick figures with barely any color and shaky lines. His person stretches the length of the page and mine simply takes up one corner. I would draw pictures like this all the time and he loved it. I can't believe he saved them all.
I pull the drawer open some more, finding little letters that I've written to him before. It looks like he's kept every single thing I've ever written to him too. Cards I wrote when I was missing him, apology letters, birthday cards, simple two-word notes that I left on his door when I was out for the day.
Almost everything I've ever given him is in this drawer.
I take out a tiny picture of him and I from inside the drawer and stick it in my pocket. I need at least one memory to keep.
I get to the back of the H folder and I find a separate file tucked in the back. I pull it out curiously. Inside is a single paper. It looks like a
card. It reads:
"Surprise! If you're up for it, I'd love to legally sign ⅓ of the dealership over to you. That includes the repair shop and even a little bit of what I work on. I can find space to put in an actual office for you and you'd get to be involved in a lot of the business I work on-"
The card is unfinished. There's no more writing.
He was actually going to let me have a legal part of his business, and this card was going to be his way of announcing that to me.
I sigh, dropping the card back into the folder. I back away from the filing cabinet, quickly exiting the room. I don't know how much more of this I can handle. I need some fresh air.
I hook my finger around the collar of my shirt, fanning it out. I shut my eyes, trying to calm myself as I walk.
The second I turn the corner, I feel myself bump into someone. I open my eyes to see Molly. She can tell something's wrong, "Are you okay? Did you find something?"
"No, I didn't find anything," I shake my head.
"But are you okay?" she repeats.
"Yeah, I just needed to step out for a minute," I force myself to frantically nod. Before she is able to throw out anymore questions, I ask, "What about you? Did you find anythin'?"
She frowns, "Everything's either dusty or empty, so there wasn't much to go off of."
"Hey, guys," Zayn calls from the opposite end of the hall. "Come check this out. There's a whole ass fridge back here."
He's somehow managed to make his way into the room across the hall from my mother's office. It's the room where I would usually just hang out if I didn't have anything else to do. Some of my parents' meetings would take place in that room, but for the most part, it's just full of snacks.
We follow the sound of his voice and lead ourselves into the space. There's a long table, surrounded by windows and plants. On the other end is a kitchenette with snacks, a coffee-maker, and a fridge.
Zayn pulls the fridge open, laughing, "Look, three-year-old food."
"That's disgusting," I press my hand on the fridge, closing it before we get the chance to look inside properly.
"This place wasn't cleaned out at all. Nobody had the decency to take anything out," Zayn scoffs. "Did either of you find anything?"
"I didn't," Molly responds.
"I'm not finished yet, but so far I've got nothin' important," I sigh, venturing over to the table. I slouch myself down in one of the chairs, "If anything, I feel like the shit I've found proves he's innocent."
"Innocent?" Molly repeats curiously, leaning on the table adjacent to me.
"He just wasn't a bad guy at all," I groan, burying my face in my palms. "Which makes it so frustrating, because if I didn't do it and he didn't do it, then there's absolutely nobody else that it could be."
I look back over, and Zayn's re-opened the fridge again. He clearly is living in his own world, caught up on the damn food. I plug my nose at the horrid smell, but he peers inside, "I mean, look at this. Bottles of unopened water, old fruit, and a box of store-bought cupcakes. Jess should've at least came back in here and tossed these all in the trash. This poor fridge."
Molly blinks, standing up tall, "Wait a second. Cupcakes?"
"Yeah. The mini ones. They're cute," Zayn nods, shutting the fridge. My parents had those in there for longer than a month. They were supposed to be for an old work party, but nobody ate them.
She paces over to the fridge, double-checks, and then walks back. I can tell that something's going through her mind. She isn't just shocked that there's cupcakes in the fridge. She's realizing something.
I stand up, trying to figure out what she might be thinking, "What?"
She walks to one end of the room, gathers her thoughts, and starts to walk back, "This is going to sound very stupid, and probably isn't right, but in those cards you wrote to your mom, you said that right before she left, she ate a cupcake. Right?"
"Yeah?" I raise an eyebrow. I know she's going somewhere with this, it's obvious, but I'm trying to make sense of it.
She smiles, like something's finally clicked in her brain, "We've been looking at this all wrong."
"We have?" Zayn crosses his arms. He looks at me, trying to see if he's the only one that's confused.
She exits the room, and both of us scramble to follow her. As she walks, she explains, "The day your parents died, they were going to a meeting. And the person they met with gave them those cupcakes. Don't you get it?"
"Explain a little more," I follow her back into my father's office, trying to get the pieces to click.
"The person that murdered all of those kids drugged them," she points out. "And those same drugs were found in both your parents' systems after the crash."
"Yeah, but didn't his dad already say that he was going to take those drugs before he got on that motorcycle?" Zayn points out. "I don't see where you're going with this."
"Yes, but drugs were also found in his mom's system. They were both drugged, not just him. It makes me think that the letter isn't telling the full truth," Molly tries to explain. "I know this is confusing, and it probably isn't making sense, but all I'm trying to suggest is another possibility."
"What's that other possibility?" Zayn continues.
"My dad's not guilty either," I realize what Molly's trying to say.
"See? It makes sense. Both your parents were drugged, they were going to some mysterious meeting, the handwriting in the letter didn't add up to his, there was little explanation, and from everything I've heard, he seems like a great man," Molly lists. "It wasn't you and it potentially wasn't him. I think it was whoever they were meeting with that day- the drugs were in the cupcakes."
"I'm confused," Zayn shrugs. "What you're saying makes sense, but... there's so many little details. I need a second to figure all of this out."
I've already figured it out.
My dad, in his letter, claimed that he was going to take those drugs and get in a motorcycle crash so that his death would be guaranteed. However, one part of the case that never made sense to investigators was the fact that my mother was also drugged. He never mentioned anything about giving them to her, but now it makes sense to me. There's a possibility that someone drugged both of them and forged that letter... using cupcakes.
"I'm not saying it's true, but it's a possibility that someone killed them and framed you," she points out, talking to me. "Since we haven't found any good leads to prove that your father's guilty, maybe we could try and look for evidence to prove that someone else is. It's a different approach. It's worth a shot."
I stare blankly ahead, finally letting it settle in. My father could be innocent. For the last three years I've been shaming myself for missing him, but maybe he was never even the bad guy.
"Well, we don't know who they were meeting with," Zayn announces.
"I think I have an idea," Molly quietly mutters, "but it's a little far-fetched."
"Say it," I encourage her. I stare into her eyes for a moment, and she seems almost too unsure to even listen to me. Quietly, I add, "C'mon, we don't have much to go off of. Whoever you have in mind could give us a lead. It's worth a shot."
"The purpose of your parents' meeting was to hopefully build a second dealership in another town, and they were keeping the details private because they believed the guy was unreliable," Molly slowly explains. "I got to thinking about it, and as crazy as it sounds, what if they were planning on putting a new dealership in... Kouver?"
My eyes widen, "There's... there's no way that's a possibility."
"So you think it's someone in your town?" Zayn, who clearly is having a harder time trying to figure out what's going on, inquires. "That doesn't make much sense. That could work for any town."
She brushes her hands back through her hair, "No, I think it was Eric Reeves."
Landon's dad.
Even though it hasn't been proven yet, this is a theory I'm somehow believing. Maybe it's my own personal hatred for the family, but either way, I'm intrigued.
I quickly drop to my knees, opening the filing cabinet labeled with the letter R. I scan through it, rushing to grab out the right folder. I spot one with his name on it, Eric Reeves, and yank it out. I toss it on the desk, forcing it open.
Molly leans over me, reading through the different papers.
"My dad kept tabs on everyone he was in business with," I explain. "And he has a folder for Eric, so that further proves they communicated."
Molly lifts a paper out of the stack, slowly bringing it into my vision. I look over, and it's like we've hit a breakthrough.
"A contract," I take the paper from her hands, reading it. "It's a contract for an agreement," I throw out fragmented sentences, "Between my parents and Eric," I scan some more, "to build a dealership on some extra land in Kouver... and in turn, attract more people to the town." I slam it back down on the desk, "Him? They were meeting with him!"
I feel nothing but frustrated.
"Holy shit," Zayn's demeanor shifts. "There's no way in hell. Why did you think of him, Molly?"
"I went to his house, remember? When I was checking his office, he was baking. Which reminded me of the cupcakes. And... his handwriting," she explains. "It's cursive. It looks exactly like Harry's."
"So he could've written the letter Harry's dad left?" Zayn figures.
"But why hasn't Eric said anything to me?" I toss my hands up, pacing with worry. "I've been living in the same town as him for the last three years."
My parents' killer has been taunting me ever since I ran.
"Maybe he doesn't know it's you," Molly points out. "He's an older guy, and you said that not a lot of people knew your parents had a son. He could've accidentally framed you, rolled with it, and never given it a second thought."
"Or he does know, and just hasn't said anything because it could throw attention on him," Zayn provides an alternative point.
"But why would he kill them?" I worry. They were great people. Amazing people. I get that Eric is a terrible person, but if they already had a contract printed for a business deal that would benefit him, then why the hell did he kill them?
"He's money-hungry, jealous... the list could go on. The only way we'd find out is if we confronted him," she answers. "But I'll admit, that's probably not the best legal approach."
"Fuck, it definitely was him. I just remembered something," Zayn finally let's his thoughts process. "My parents were rivals to his."
"He could've framed them for fraud to take out his competition," Molly finishes his thought. Her face drops, "And Niall."
"What about Niall?" Zayn crosses his arms.
"His parents, they went bankrupt around the time that Harry ran away!" she braces her hands on the desk. "He's been taking out multiple families right in front of our eyes. I can't believe nobody has realized this."
The only way we're going to get the full story is by talking to Eric. His motives and what actually happened, only he knows that. Both Niall and Zayn's parents are still alive, but clearly clueless, otherwise Eric's name would've been brought up a lot sooner. My parents had to've known something. That's why they're the only ones that are dead.
"We have to organize this all better," Zayn points out. "All of these thoughts can't just be thrown around in a courtroom. It's making my head spin and confusing the shit out of me."
"I'll put it in simple terms," Molly sighs, gathering her thoughts. "Find some paper."
"Yeah, okay. Let's organize our thoughts better," Zayn finds a piece of paper. "Maybe we can get a better picture of this whole situation."
They both kneel down on the other side of the desk, communicating back and forth on different points of their discovery. Molly scribbles things down and talks to Zayn, adding more and more points that they want to organize.
All I can think about is how this actually makes sense. Even though we don't have Eric's motives, whatever they are, they're stupid. My parents didn't deserve to die, and I didn't deserve to be framed. It clearly is a pattern, though, if he has been doing this to multiple families, then there should be a lot of evidence.
Sadly, I got the worst end of his crimes.
Through my worries, I realize something else. A thought comes to mind almost lightens my heart, in a dark way.
"Harry?" Molly's voice causes me to look up from my thoughts. She stops writing and looks up from the paper, "Are you okay?"
She obviously knows it's a stupid question to ask. Clearly, I'm not okay. Yes, it's refreshing to finally have a lead, but it's also a lot more confusing. At this point, all we have are our thoughts and not much solid evidence or motives. We lack a lot of detail and if any of this were to be told to someone, they'd be outright confused.
Instead of adding to the stress of the situation, I smile and share the thought that's bringing me a little bit of optimism, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just realized somethin', that's all."
"What is it?" she stands up.
"If my parents went through with that business deal, then I would've moved to Kouver three years ago," I quietly melt my gaze into hers. "We would've met no matter what."
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if you're confused, i can answer questions! but a lot of things will be answered later so dw!!
i didn't want them to find everything out this chapter. there's no fun in that ;)