Almost as if the storm last night hadn’t happened, the morning was exceedingly clear.

The crisp blue sky hone down brightly upon the black tarmac, the road slowly giving in to nature. Bit by bit, the concrete ahead became more and more uneven, eventually turning into a path of dirt and gravel. On the side, grass and flowers flourished; only a mile away from the cities, nature still bloomed.

Harry sniffled. He sneezed into his handkerchief - the wife always insisted he carry one. She understood how sensitive his nose could be. He grimaced, the bright light blinding his vision. His car rumbled, tiny rocks clattering against the metal hull. He watched patiently as the numbers on the GPS grew smaller and smaller.

A small wooden house peered into view. It was a lovely place, as a more effeminate person would put it. Small details touched every last corner of that house. The wooden walls were painted and glossed enthusiastically. Engravings filled each nook and cranny, giving the house an antique, rustic feel - in essence, it felt cared for.

There was already a car in the driveway. Harry sighed and stopped his car on the roadside. He grumbled as his feet landed on watery mud, the dirt sticking to his soles.

His eyes wandered to the postbin. ‘Miller’, an edgy font labelled.

He trudged towards the porch, leaving behind a trail of mud. A small roof protected the porch from sunlight. A small table centered that porch, a single foldable garden chair placed against. Two other chair leaned against the wall, a visible layer of dust and cobwebs gathering upon it.

Harry clicked the buzzer. A soft, electric hum responded. He noticed that the mattress was already dirty, small bits of mud drying in the cool air. He waited patiently, glancing through the window occasionally as time passed.

Soon enough, a grumpy voice shouted. “Coming!” It said. A series of hasty footsteps followed.

The wooden door creaked open, revealing a frowning man. A towel crowned his head. “Hello.” He said, his brown eyes questioning Harry. “Do you need something?”

“Just here for a visit,” Harry responded, staring back into his brown eyes. “May I come in?”

“What’s this about?” George’s gaze sharpened.

Harry sighed. He’d done this routine a million times before. “I’m detective Harry Jackson.” He said, pulling out his badge. “I was hoping we could have a chat.”

George wordlessly studied the badge. “...You haven’t got a warrant, do you?” He asked.

“I don’t.” Harry nodded grimly. “But I believe it’d be better for the both of us if you would comply.”

“Come in.” George finally said, roughly shoving the door open. “Wipe your shoes off, please.”

Harry stepped inside. The interior matched the cozy outside perfectly; Harry immediately felt that he’d seen such houses a million times before - in fiction, that was. He’d never seen a house so warm in his entire life. Everything from the brick fireplace to the classy wooden furniture felt so fitting.

He also noticed silence in that residence.

George gestured towards a beige couch. Harry sat himself down. George quickly shuffled out the room, only to return with two glasses filled with water.

“I’m sorry.” George finally said. “Look, it’s rather early in the morning, and I wasn’t expecting any visitors.” He paused. “Especially not the cops.”

Harry stopped glancing around. “No problem, ...Mr. Miller.” He said. “It’s almost noon, though.”

“Haven’t had a good night’s sleep.” George said, pulling the towel off his head. “Just woken up, you see? What’s this all about, Detective?” He asked, looking at Harry intently.

“I think you’ve an idea, Mr. Miller.” Harry sighed. “It’s about your friend, Alister.”

“He didn’t do it.” George quickly stated. He stared at Harry with confident, clear eyes.

“Well, you’ve gotten do the topic quickly.” Harry said. “Well, I don’t like all this formal stuff either. Let me get to the point, George. Do you know where Alister is?”

George stared blankly for a while. “...No.” He said. “Ain’t got a single clue.” He wiped a drop of water off his brow.

“You sure ‘bout that?” Harry asked, his hand reaching for his pen. “Ain’t got a clue, you said? No idea where he might be, either?”

“Nope,” George shook his head. “Not a single one. Just know he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You’re very sure of that, aren’t cha?” Harry asked, studying George’s expression. “What’s made you so convinced?”

George answered quickly. “I’ve known him for a while now, Detective.” He said. “I don’t know what others might’ve told ya, but he’s not that kind of guy.”

“I see.” Harry said, tapping with his pen. “So you have no idea what he’s up to?”

“Yeah.”

Harry silently stared at George, whose face did not so much as twitch. “Aight.” Harry said, breaking the ice. “Why don’t you tell me something else, then?”

“What’d you want to know?” George asked.

“Tell me about Alister.” Harry said. “What type of guy was he?”

George scratched his nose for a second. “...He’s a good guy.” He said. “I’m not sure how else to say it, really. A real solid dude.”

“So I’ve heard.” Harry said. “Anything specific?”

“He’d always help whenever you need it.” George said. “Remember that time he helped me beat up those fifth-grade punks. We were like, nine?” He smiled. “We got our asses beat, but it was worth it.”

“What for?”

“Those kids stole a classmate’s lunch money.” George reminisced. “I wouldn’t stand for that shit. Alister backed me up. Hell, he was the one who started it.”

Harry chuckled. “So you kids do that often?” He scribbled some notes.

“Yeah, well… Used to.” George replied. “Until college, sure. Had some fights here and there.” His eyes looked away. “Not so much recently.”

“Around two years ago, correct?” Harry asked, listening intently.

“Well, it’s been slowing down for the last five years, I’d say.” George tilted his head. “Haven’t been hanging out as much since. But the last two years…” He paused. “I’ve got nothing more to say, really.”

Harry clicked his pen shut. “Alright,” He said, standing up. “That’s all I’ll get from you, it seems.” He stretched his hand out.

George grabbed his hand firmly and shook. “Look, George, I might be back.” Harry said, watching the other’s expression. “Here’s my card. Call me if you hear anything.”

George frowned. “Can’t make any promises, Detective.” He said. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out yourself, but I’m not sure I can help you.”

Harry smiled softly. “The honest type, huh?” He said. “I’ll be honest here and say something too, then.” An intimidating glare sparked in the detective’s eyes. “George, if you’re hiding anything - just know that we’ll find it out.”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

George shrugged nervously. “Who, the cops?”

“Whoever needs to know.” Harry said. “I’ll make sure that happens.” Harry stepped outside. “Goodbye, George. I hope we don’t have to meet again.”

“Likewise.” George said, watching Harry walk slowly to the car.

Harry clasped his boots outside to shake the dirt off before entering his car. He leaned far back into his seat, sighing as he gripped the handle. Sometimes, the honest ones were the hardest to deal with. George obviously was hiding something - what that was, Harry didn’t know.

He noticed some odd-looking markings on the driveway. A trail of mud. It was unbroken and thin, thus definitely not made by human feet. No animals could produce such a trail either. A bicycle, perhaps?

Harry sneezed. He rubbed his nose with his handkerchief. In any case, he needed to leave.

----------------------------------------

Alister twiddled his thumb anxiously.

A movie was playing on the television, but he paid that no heed. Instead, his gaze focused on the window. George had left the hut ten hours ago, before the sunrise, claiming to get supplies to get their investigation started. At first, Alister could handle the absence, but now, possibilities filled his mind.

What if George had gotten captured? What if the police had trailed him?

What if he’d ratted Alister out?

The answers soon came as a silhouette emerged behind the treelines. Alister first jittered, hiding all but his head behind the couch, but soon sighed a breath of relief when he recognized the lone figure of George. He carried a heavy-duty backpack, seemingly filled to the brim, together with a shopping bag.

Alister opened the door when his friend approached. “Took you a while,” He said, staring at the cache of goodies. “What took you so long?”

“Had some trouble with… I’ll tell you later.” George said, slightly huffing. “Here’s the stuff you asked for.”

“You managed to get the…” Alister rifled through the contents of the shopping bag.

“Laptop, yeah.” George said, opening his backpack. He flashed a fancy cardboard box. “I found one for two hundred bucks on sale. We’re not using this for much, so I picked it up.”

George pulled out a second, smaller box, together with a sim card. “This is one of those mobile wifi things - I got a prepaid sim card with it.” He said, neatly placing both on the table. “It’s got a hundred bucks worth of data in it, so it’ll last you a while.” He grinned. “Unless you spend it all on rubbing one out, of course.”

“Make sure to get me some japanese videos next time, then.” Alister laughed. “A hundred bucks, huh? That’s like, a dozen gigs, you think?”

“More than plenty enough to read the news and wikipedia.” George nodded. “Otherwise, these are some stuff you’ll probably want. A flashlight, some more food, a couple DVD’s…”

“Seems like this cost you a pretty penny.” Alister whistled.

“Don’t you even start, man.” George slumped to the ground. “I’m making you pay for this shit later with interest.” He lied down. “I’m taking a nap. This was a bitch to carry.”

“Go ahead,” Alister said, unearthing the laptop from its box. “I’ll figure this stuff out.”

----------------------------------------

Harry flicked the headlamps off as he drove into the driveway.

The streets were growing dark, the lamp posts slowly turning on, one by one. Children cleared the playgrounds and teenagers roamed the neighbourhood. His pretty little house, the same as every other house in the suburb, emitted a warm, bright light through its windows.

Harry stepped out of the car and moved towards the front door. He clicked his metal key right in and fiddled with the lock. He cursed when it finally clicked open, and he pushed the handle in. Immediately, a familiar face turned to him and smiled.

“Harry!” Margaret cheered, her hand moving in a circular motion with a ladle. “Early from work? That’s a surprise.”

“A good one, I hope.” Harry smiled. He fiddled with his shoes and cast them aside. “Hey, darling, how was your day?”

“Good, as usual.” She said. “I’ve made your favorite, Harry. Beef stew!”

“Thanks, love.” Harry said, quickly moving towards her. He gave her a little peck. “You know just what I want.”

“Of course I do.” She shoved him playfully. “Why’re you so early today, Harry? It’s the first time since you got on that case.”

Harry slumped on his couch. “Decided to take it easy today.” He said. “Can’t take time off the weekends, I think. Figured I’d spend some time with you today.”

“That’s a shame.” She said. “I was so looking forward to travelling somewhere. It’s Richard’s break, too, you know?”

“I’m sorry, darling.” Harry said, flicking through the television channels. He stuck with the news. “Work’s work, you know how it is.”

“You’re too diligent, Harry. I worry about you.” She sighed. “Dinner’s ready in five minutes.”

Harry grunted a quick thanks and focused on the news.

Apparently, a politician had been killed the town over. Shot, as it were. His secretary was blamed for the murder; she had been in an affair with this man, and had fallen pregnant. A tragic tale to say the least, especially for a man with such a bright future - James Folk, republican representative.

He watched his political opponent - and now, victor of the elections, Larry Brown, give an impassioned speech about this or that. Harry felt his face twitch. He hated these politically motivated, insincere speeches; only a month ago, the two had been hounding each other, ready to slit each other’s throats.

“The table’s set, honey, come for dinner!” His wife yelled behind him, and Harry reluctantly lifted himself from his couch. He sat himself down and glanced at the table.

“Where’s Richard?” Harry asked.

“He’s hanging out with friends again,” His wife said. “Out for dinner, he said.”

“That brat,” Harry began eating. “I’ll have a chat with him later.”

“Oh, I dunno about that.” Margaret smiled. “I don’t think you have any right to lecture him, mister.”

“What do you mean?” Harry looked at his wife.

“Oh, come on.” Margaret poked him. “You used to be like that, too! Back in high school!”

“Was I?” Harry smiled. “I don’t remember.”

“I remember.” She said. “We thought you’d end up as some yankee, riding that bike of yours.” She reminisced fondly. “Who’d have thought you’d end up as such a respectable, handsome man?”

“People grow up.” Harry said. “And I can only hope Richard does, too.”

“I wouldn’t worry so much.” Margaret said. “He’ll be fine, Harry. At least he’s doing well at school.”

Suddenly, Harry’s phone started buzzing. Harry looked annoyed, but he pulled out his phone. “Sorry, Margaret, I’ve gotta get this.” He said, looking at the caller ID.

“Finish before the stew gets called.” She said.

Harry quickly tapped the green button and excused himself. “Lewis, this better be something important.” He moaned.

“What’s up, Harry? Did I interrupt something important?” Lewis said. “Are you in bed right now, perhaps? The wife next to you?”

“Shut up.” Harry said. “Just get this over with, Lewis. I’m trying to eat here.”

“Aight, aight, man.” Lewis said. “Relax, I was just screwin’ with ya.”

“What’s this about, then?”

“Well, it’s two things.” Lewis paused. “First off, the boss wanted me to tell ya something.”

“What’s up with him this time?” Harry groaned. “Is his wife really bangin’ some clerk?”

“No,” Lewis said. “He’s commending you on the job so far. He wants you off the case soon, though.”

Harry blinked in surprise. “Why?”

“Waste of talent, he said.” Lewis whistled. “High praise from that geezer. Anyways, since the case is basically over, he wants to hand off the search for that Alister guy to some juniors.”

“I guess that makes… sense.” Harry scratched his head. “I’ll have a chat with the boss tomorrow. What’s the second thing?”

“We’ve got a visitor today,” Lewis said. “The Smith family wanted to thank us.”

“The who?”

“Smith family. ‘Member the case I took off your hands?” Lewis asked. “Them. The wife came by with a basket full of goodies, although I was distracted by two other baskets…”

“Lewis, I’m arresting you someday.” Harry chuckled. “That’s good, I guess. What’s in the basket?”

“You wouldn’t believe this shit,” Lewis said. “Journalists must be making some fat bank, man. I’m considering changing my job. It’s got, like, french wine and shit. She said she’ll come by again tomorrow to hand you off some stuff personally.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, he saw his wife give him the stink-eye. “Looks like I’ll have to get off.” He said.

----------------------------------------

George jolted awake, shuddering and glancing around the room wildly. He calmed himself and turned to Alister, who was typing away at his new laptop, seemingly too focused to notice.

“How late is it?” George asked, rubbing his eyes. Only the faint laptop screen lit the dark room.

Alister only responded after a poke. “Ten PM.” He said. “You’ve slept for a while now.”

“Oh, shit.” George sighed. “I won’t be able to get back home.”

“Just sleep here.” Alister said. “We’ve got two blankets.”

“Again, huh?” George smiled. “You up to play some smash?”

“Maybe later.” Alister said.

George peeked over his shoulder. “What’s this?” He asked. “You found anything?”

Alister turned to stare at him. “Nothing.” He said quietly. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

George took a step back. “Jesus, dude.” He said. “You look like shit. How long have you been awake?”

Alister yawned. “Uh, like, three fourths of a day?” He said. “I didn’t sleep much yesterday.”

“You’ve gotta get some rest, man.” George said, shutting the laptop down. “You’re getting too stressed out.”

“You might be right.” Alister yawned again and stretched out. “I’m… Not feeling too good.”

“Guess I’ll play smash alone, then.” He said, picking up a controller. “You get some sleep, dude.”

“Sure will.” Alister said, crawling into a blanket on the couch. “Good night.”

“Good night.” George said.