Crime (h.s. au)

Chapter Twenty

Harry

"Lieutenant Nicks took the day off. Something must be seriously wrong because this never happens so it's up to you to make calls," the Chief tells me, my head nodding.

I walk into my office and take a seat, running my hand over my face. There are so many questions I have about what happened last night, but I refuse to get them answered. Ava is not someone I will ever ask to talk, because she's the one who needs to first.

We stood in her hallway for what felt like hours, my arms holding her as if I needed to hold her composure together. The thought that my past made her act that way is minimal, and I chalk it up to her own story. She clearly doesn't talk about her past a lot, so perhaps it was uncomfortable for her to do so.

I pick up the phone and I dial the special victims unit, trying to see where they're at in the case.

"Officer Oliver," the woman says, and I introduce myself.

"Styles, good to speak to you. We were going to the hospital this afternoon to speak with Ms. Meyers. I will get back to you once we talk to her," she explains, and I nod my head.

"Thank you. I'll be talking with you," I tell her, hanging up the phone.

The day drags on and I find myself with small amounts of work, looking into a few cold case files. Most of them seem like dead ends, clearly, but my mind is so cloudy with my thoughts. It's a pretty slow day considering I have to wait until the special victims unit speaks to Katrina Meyers.

It reaches about five and I watch the door to the station open, Ava walking in. However, she's not wearing her usual suits, but none-the-less still utterly beautiful. She beelines for the Chief's office and shuts the door after.

My phone rings, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Detective Styles," I state.

"Hey it's Officer Oliver. We just spoke with Katrina and she doesn't want to speak with you, no offense. I was curious if you can give Lieutenant Nicks my information so we can speak with Ms. Meyers together. You can still work on the case, but I think she just needs to be with women right now. She's experienced substantial trauma," she explains, and I completely understand.

"Sure. She's not in the office today but I can pass your information along. Thank you for the help," I tell her, and she says goodbye before hanging up the phone.

I turn my attention to the computer and answer a few emails, swallowing the lump in my throat. My hand runs through my hair and I read through the email I received from the prosecutor in the Alexander Cross case.

My eyes flicker to Ava's office, seeing her quickly typing on her keyboard. There is a certain intensity to her features and I look away, curious to why she's working if she's taken the day off. God, I feel awful. I literally have no idea what to do.

She's independent; she's said so herself. Every time I ask if she's okay, or if she's alright, she just jokes about it. Women are an enigma, and she's the hardest one to figure out.

"Stop staring at the computer and come with me," I hear, Ava standing in front of me. I really was deeper in thought than I had assumed. But now, she's summoned me and now I'm really dumbfounded as to what's going on.

I get up and shut the computer off, grabbing my keys. She leads me out of the office and I follow her to her car, my mind trying not to think about what is going on. I'm not going to ask questions, and I'm certainly not going to talk first. This is all on her.

I fasten my seatbelt and she begins to drive, my hand resting on my thigh. My elbow leans on the window and I set my head on my hand, looking out at the street. She pulls up to the street beside my apartment and I glance at her.