Thud. My phone fell from my hands. The news of my mother killed, that couldn’t be true. That could never be true. “Styles? Styles.” Anderson’s voice came through the phone. I didn’t dare pick up the phone.
This was worse, much worse than when Genevieve had left without a word. I picked up the phone and hung up. I didn’t want to talk to anyone because I figured they already heard the news.
My phone rang, over and over. Jesy’s name appeared, then Louis and Carter’s. I get that my friends were concerned about me. I didn’t want to accept their apologies. They didn’t know my mom. They’ve never met her and they never will.
I entered my apartment, slamming the door shut behind me. Who could’ve done this? I couldn’t think. I couldn’t sleep that night either. My mind was wide awake, swimming with images of my mother.
I couldn’t look at her picture, knowing that I would cry. I will not break down. I will find whoever is responsible for killing her. Whoever it is, must have something against me? But who?
Did I have enemies? I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure. Right now, I was focused on one thing and only that one thing. Genevieve. She must know something, right? Oh god, if I found out that she- no. She would never do something like that, not to me.
I have never hurt her in a way to drive her into doing something like that. I still love her, even though she left me. I still cared for her. How to reach her was the problem. France, that’s where I should look.
I packed my bags, bought a ticket, and got on the first flight to France. I arrived there asking if they knew someone by the name of Genevieve, but no one heard of her. Where could she have gone off to?
I didn’t have any leads. She never told me where she was going when she left. I took another flight home. Maybe someone in London knew where she’s seen her last. Receiving the same result, I gave up.
I went home to Holmes Chapel, curious to know if the news of my mom’s death was true. When I arrived there, reality began to set in. The entire neighborhood was outside my house. The police, the detectives, everyone.
People saw me approach their direction and immediately said their condolences, but I ignored them. “You can’t go in there.” The police officer said.
“She’s my mom. I want to see her. I want to see how she was killed.” I said, keeping my voice from quivering. I wasn’t going to let anyone hold me back, even if I had to fight my way through. I was going to see my mom, no matter what the circumstances were.
Entering through the open front door brought back the memories of growing up with my older sister. Gemma! She must know something about who the killer could possibly be. I passed all the pictures that were on the shelves.
Pictures of my mom smiling. How could anyone do such a terrible thing to such an innocent person? What was the reason for killing her? Where was my sister in all of this? Did she know about our mom?
I took out my phone and dialed my sister’s number. I paced back and forth in the room, waiting for her to pick up. Five rings, it eventually went to her voicemail. I left a message and hung up. Why wasn’t she picking up?
I exited the house and just as I got in the taxi, my phone rang. “Gemma?” I picked up the phone without looking at the caller ID. “No, Jesy. I heard the news about your mom. Are you ok?” Jesy said.
“I appreciate that you’re concerned about me Jes. I’m just fine. I’m determined to find out who killed my mom.” I told her.
“You know we’ll have always have your back.”
“Thanks.” I told her, then we talked for a few more minutes before I hung up the phone. I was staying in London for a few days, only to find out if anyone knew a person who might’ve killed my mom. So far, there was nothing new.
Every so often I would check in with the agency to know if they heard anything, but they came up empty as well and told me they’d keep me informed. Would Ethan know something? I hardly saw him since the news was announced.
I quickly dialed his number and after two rings, he picked up. “Harry, what’s up?” Ethan was one of the few people who called me by my first name. Carter, Anderson, and many of the other agents called me by my last name.
“Have you heard anything new about my mom’s killer?” I asked.
“We’re still on the case, but we’ll let you know if anything comes up.” He hung up. After my stay in London, I flew home. I met up with Jesy and Louis in the coffee shop. “Have you tried talking to Ethan?” I asked.
“He’s always come up with excuses like: ‘I’m busy’ and ‘I have a meeting.’” Louis answered.
“Yeah, and when we are able to talk to him, he never really gives us a definite answer. It’s usually the same response.” Jesy added. “He’s been seeing this girl too, but he never really talks about her. He’s keeping secrets from us.”
“Do you think he’s working with someone else, someone one who’s against us?” Louis glanced over me, wondering what I think about all of this. I trusted Ethan’s word even though the others knew him better than I did. I always felt like Ethan and I were the same person.
“Doubtful. He works for this agency and owns a business. I honestly don’t believe he could be working as… I don’t know, some double agent of sorts.” I said.
Jesy took a sip of her coffee and shrugged, “You can never be too sure about certain things Harry.” I just nod and take a sip of my drink. I wanted to disagree with Jesy, but she was right. Sometimes you can’t be too careful about other people.