Delinquent - L.S.

Twenty One

Des and Anne were yelling at one another, though it wasn't anything Harry noticed anymore. It all just faded into the background. White noise, so to speak. He didn't even hear them at this point, he didn't really hear anything. Harry was sitting on the couch, slowly rocking back and forth. He was crying, though it wasn't a normal cry. There was no gasping and no sniffling nose and no contorted facial expression; his face was emotionless and he was silent. Tears just fell down his cheeks and they were falling fast. His hands were shaking violently and he was suddenly very warm. Harry was nauseous, though he hadn't vomited, and he felt like he could faint at any moment.

His only friend was murdered. And the prime suspect was the boy who Harry was beyond infatuated with, dare he say falling in love with.

Anne crouched down in front of Harry, resting her hands on either of his shoulders. "Harry?" she cooed. "If you know anything about Louis' whereabouts, you need to tell us."

"He didn't do it," Harry managed to croak out, throat feeling dry and raw. "I know he didn't."

"How do you know that he didn't? Were you there?" Cowell asked sharply from across the room.

Harry shook his head, "No."

Cowell crossed the space to stand before Harry, Des and Anne following suit. "Let me tell you something, Harry; we need three things to convict. Motive, opportunity and means," the detective said matter-of-factly. "We have a motive. Here's what I think went down; I think your little boyfriend got into some sort of argument with the deceased. Maybe Cheryl didn't want him there, maybe Louis didn't want to leave. Maybe he lost his cool. Neighbors heard raised voices so it all lines up."

"That's not what happened! Louis wouldn't force himself on her, he doesn't even like her. And he isn't like that," Harry defended, feeling himself start to lose all composure. "Besides, you have no proof! That's just a theory!"

"Next, opportunity," Cowell ignored him.

Harry urgently protested, "You're not listening-"

"-Control yourself, Harry," Des interjected with a snarl.

"Please cooperate, Harry," Anne begged quietly, eyes nervously flickering around the room.

"As I was saying," Cowell mused pointedly. "Opportunity; an eyewitness claims to have seen Louis fleeing the scene just before the boy was discovered."

Harry was taken aback. "What? A witness? Who?" he asked quickly.

"And lastly, means," the older man continued right along, ignoring Harry once again. "Ms. Cole suffered a hard blow to the head with a blunt object before being dumped into her pool."

"Oh my god," Harry's voice cracked. He got to his feet and quickly ran to the closest waste bin, throwing up the contents of his stomach. He was sweating and crying even harder as he kneeled over the trash can. Cate quickly came to his side, rubbing soothing circles on his back and helping him get up onto his feet. She coaxed Harry back to the couch and eased him into a lying position, which he didn't really like but chose not to fight.

"We will find the murder weapon next. Given Mr. Tomlinson's long history and previous violent behaviors-"

"-He lived on the streets alone!" Harry cried out. "He wouldn't have survived if he wasn't tough! You can't use that against him!"