The officer’s eyes are a hard, steely mixture of brown and blue. He looked directly at me as the handcuffs tightened and appeared indifferent to the silence that had engulfed the hall. I opened and shut my mouth several times as though the answer would suddenly appear in the form of words but only ended up looking like a fish out of water.

The officer nodded his head and took a firm hold of my elbow, turning to lead me out of the hall. I cast an eye around desperately, appealing to anybody who my eye would catch. I turned to several members of the crew, my head whipping around and grabbing several people’s eyes. But they hastily looked away and I turned to Lou- she would say something wouldn’t she? My inner voice was screaming at her to stand up and tell the officers that this had nothing to do with me, but she just gazed at me with her big, doe-eyed eyes and gulped. She turned away too.

Everybody’s eyes narrowed at me, judging me like they could see and know everything at once. But I hadn’t done this, so what right did they have to accuse me so silently? The female officer who lingered in the background spoke rapidly into her radio in French and I caught, briefly, that it was time to go.

In a last desperate attempt to get somebody to help me, I threw a glance at the boys and Simon who stood, mouths hanging open in shock, on the stage. I tried to telepathically tell them it wasn’t me and they seemed to work out what I was trying to communicate. Suddenly, all five of them surged forward, shouting at the officers.

“This hasn’t got anything to do with Kayleigh!” Harry cried, throwing his hands into the air and glaring at the officers.

“You have no right to haul Kayleigh off like this, she’s done nothing wrong, we were with her all night!” Zayn protested.

“Are you quite sure, Mr Malik? I seem to remember that Kayleigh stays back stage while you boys perform.” The female officer’s eyes tightened. Her accent was thick and heavy and it was tough for me to get snatches of what she said. “She could have just slipped away.” She rolled her tongue on the word ‘slipped’ and threw me a casual, suspicious glance.

“NO! If you insist on taking Kayleigh with you, which you have no right to do because you have no evidence she was even there, I’m coming with you!” Niall roared, making everybody turn to him in surprise. His gaze was as frosty as the breeze that was still in the air and his hands were balled into fists. He looked utterly pissed.

“Actually, Mr Horan, we have found evidence at the crime scene that could link this to Kayleigh. It seems Kayleigh’s fingerprints were discovered on the victim’s jacket. We have enough evidence to take her into custody and interrogate her. You are, of course, entitled to come along but I will not take you in the car. Your emotions seem to be rather…….out of control.” The male officer pursed his lips.

Niall shook his head. “Fine.” He snapped. “Kayleigh?” He turned to me. “We WILL fight these people. I know you had nothing to do with this and I will not rest until you are out of that shit hole, okay?” He searched my eyes for an answer. All I could do was nod, paralysed from the shock as the events from barely five minutes began to sink in. Satisfied he’d got what he wanted, Niall stalked out. Liam and Harry rushed after him but Zayn and Louis stood by me, cementing the foundations Niall had laid. They were going to get me out of here. I had to believe that.

---

The ride to the station was silent. Horribly, utterly silent. Though we were in the confinements of the car, the handcuffs remained on me and it took all my willpower not to tell the officers where to go. A quick glance in the angled wing mirror told me Niall and the rest of the boys were close behind and I retreated back to my seat, realising I couldn’t fight what was happening, only embrace it and make sure that I didn’t go down for something I had nothing to do with.

Trees and green hills rolled past as we sped along the road, the driver clearly anxious to get me out of his car. Without realising it, I’d stepped in dog poo while I’d gotten into the car and I had surreptitiously wiped it on the seat. An obvious foul aroma was beginning to surface and I took secret delight in the disgust of the policemen. I saw the one driving crinkle his nose and slowly open a window.

Smirking, I slunk down in my seat, not wanting to watch the free world passing by without a care that an innocent person was being held against her will. All they would see when they saw me was a criminal, no matter whether I was guilty or not. The fact that I knew the person involved in the case wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference to them, it would only matter to them that I was in there, and they would see someone who had been hiding for years only to be thrust into the midst of a murder investigation. And not as a witness. As a suspect.

We pulled up outside an aged yellow building, the paint flaking and peeling off. A black SUV pulled into the car park with Niall in the drivers seat as he parked haphazardly, not even in a designated parking space, and ran across the loose shingle and gravel. I could see the other boys shaking their heads at him but following him just as quickly.

They took great pleasure in kicking up pebbles behind them at such an angle that it would hit a police car and the officers glared at them angrily. Louis just smirked and shrugged as if he were asking what they were going to about it. Apparently nothing, because I was whisked past the security door and practically thrown into the reception area.

The woman at the desk glanced up to see me looking very bedraggled and tired as well as five international pop stars, one police man and one women and also the obvious dog poo smell. I looked sheepish because, in the company of somebody other than officers, I realised what I had done was childish.

The woman blinked a few times, regained her composure and proceeded to check us in. She indicated the blue and white plastic waiting seats for the boys and curtly handed the police woman a set of keys. She eyed me suspiciously but returned to her work behind the grotty desk.

In fact, it wasn’t just the desk that was gross, the whole building was derelict and smelly. Walls were cluttered with a variety of papers and leaflets giving information about what the public should do about a killer on the loose (1995), what officers should do if an inmate was being ‘difficult’ or ‘having a phase’ (edition published 2004) and how to deal with drug addicts. Oddly enough though, there was nothing on what to do with innocent people. I guess here they found nobody innocent. Well I was determined to be the first.

The police woman showed me into a dark, dank, dingy room and switched on the flickering over head light. She smiled slightly, pulling the chair out for me to sit down. She sat down and introduced herself.

“My name’s Rian. My colleague over there is Jamille and we just want to ask you a few questions when your lawyer arrives. It’s just routine and I don’t want to worry you. We have to follow up every lead we have, just in case somebody knows something. We just need you to be honest so we can find out why your fingerprints were on the victim’s jacket. We’ll just wait until your lawyer arrives. She said she’d be here soon.”

“Could you stop referring to Paul as ‘the victim’ please? Only it seems really impersonal he is…was a person after all. Can you call him by his name? And lawyer?” I frowned in confusion, the receptionist had asked me whether I required a lawyer but I had stated I didn’t.

“I believe the boys rang their friend Abby Ingrid up. She’s working on a case in Paris at the moment so she was able to attend at such short notice. I’m afraid I can’t call the victim by his former name, only when making reference to things he said or did. It’s against policy, I’m sorry.”

I shrug, pretending to feel indifferent when really there was just a black void where my heart should have been. I couldn’t take it, Paul was really gone. He wasn’t coming back. But that wasn’t my fault. I would have to remember to tell Simon to take payment for Abby Ingrid from my wages and give it to the boys. As nice as the gesture was, I am able to pay my way through life.

The door handle turned and a woman in a crisp, silver suit walked in. Her heels were scarily tall and pointy and she looked like she could accomplish anything. Her platinum blonde hair was twisted up on top of her head and her hips swung lightly as she walked towards Rian.


"Would you mind leaving us to speak for a few moments?” Abby asked curtly. Rian nodded and stood up and left, leaving me in the company of a suddenly smiley young woman.

“I’m Abby Ingrid, I’m a friend of the boys. I believe you’re in a bit of a sticky situation?” I nod, cautious of her sudden change in demeanour.

She carried on smiling. “You’re welcome to call me anything you like but I do ask that you keep it professional when you’re being interviewed. Is there anything you’d like to ask me before I continue?”

“How old are you, not to be rude or anything?” I asked meekly, she was honestly one of the most beautiful women I had ever come across in my life.

“21. 22 next month. Now, this case. The outcome is to prove you’re innocent. I’m not interested whether you are or not, my job is to MAKE you innocent either way. What do you know about that police woman? Anything will be helpful, she will be interviewing you along with somebody else. It’s vital we know about her character. It may sound very unprofessional but I work personally.”

“Rian? Well, she’s a woman who cares about her image. I’d imagine she is insecure about how she looks and acts but I’m sure when she’s at work, she’s all business. She’s not married, nor engaged either. But I have a sneaking suspicion she has kids because she’s got the worry lines all women get when they have their first child around her forehead. How many, I don’t know. But I would suggest two because this woman likes rounded, even things. She doesn’t like odd ones that don’t fit a pattern. That’s as much as I can tell you, but I know she too works personally. She was trying to get inside my head before you came.”

“She’s not supposed to that without a lawyer or barrister present. We can use that. About the other information, nice work, you could be a detective.” Abby remarked casually. “I agree with you on all but one point. She is engaged, but she’s cheating on him with someone. Did you see her ring finger? There was a pale strip around it where the skin hadn’t tanned. When a man or woman is cheating, they remove their wedding band, it makes them feel less guilty. I did a year in criminal and family psychology” She looks at my confused face and laughs. “I graduated VERY early!”

I laugh a little too. “You sound more like a PI than a lawyer but I can work with that. I just need somebody to tell the Police I’m innocent because they sure as heck aren’t listening to me!”

Abby half smiled. “Well, our ten minutes are up. When they interview you, I will give you pointers about what to say. I had somebody email me the file and there’s several instances where the evidence doesn’t stand up. But remember, I can only give advice. You can ignore me if you wish.”

Seconds later Rian and another officer waltzed in. My gaze drifted to Rian’s ring finger and, sure enough, there was a pale strip where a band had once been. Abby was amazing.

“If you’re quite ready, we’ll begin.” Rian raised her eyebrows to her hair line expectantly.

She hit a button on the machine on top of the table. “Interview begun at 1:18pm. Present and speaking: Detective Rian Kelly. Present: Officer Jamille Gallie, Lawyer Abby Ingrid and interviewee Kayleigh Michaels. Translations available on file.”

“Let’s begin. Ms Michaels, where were you on the night of the 5th?”

Abby nodded encouragingly. “I was with the boys-.”

“Can you clarify what you mean by ‘the boys’ for the purposes of the interview please, Ms Michaels?”

“Yes, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles and Liam Payne, watching their concert. I was with a friend but she left a little way in. I had just spoken with Paul and I was a little upset. The boys came off the stage and comforted me. We walked back to the bus and found Paul lying on the floor. Harry called the police and had me report it because I’m the only one that can speak French.”

“And they can back this up?”

“Yes.”

“Ms Michaels, CCTV showed you and Paul meeting up in the central connecting corridor (The CCC) and arguing. Can you tell us what you were arguing about?”

“Yes. He’d discovered that I’m an orphan. I’d hadn’t made a reference to this in my application and Paul informed me that, since everything was back checked, I was basically a person who merely didn’t exist. He was angry and was going to inform MI5 about everything. Realising there was nothing I could do about it, I returned to the boys.”

“Would this not give you incentive to, shall we say, get rid of Paul?”

“You don’t have to answer that, Kayleigh.” Abby said. “She’s got no right to ask you that as it isn’t related to the case. Though she should know all about that.” Abby’s eyes tightened as she referred to something in the case file.

“Anyway. Can the boys back that statement up?”

“Yes.”

“How was your relationship with Paul?”

“Um, we were…we were close.” I stammered.

“Close?” Rian pressed. “Just ‘close’? Nothing more?” I shook my head, no.

Returning to her list of questions, Rian continued.

“What can you tell me about the security at the venue, Kayleigh.”

“That has nothing to do with case, Detective Kelly. I suggest you make no comment Kayleigh.” Abby was glaring passionately at Rian, her eyes fiery and blazing.

“No comment.” I murmur.

“Okay, Kayleigh do you own or know somebody who owns a limited edition ‘Peppa Pig’ play knife?”

I looked at Rian confused. “No. And why is that relevant?”

“Because that’s what our forensics team believes the murder weapon was. The found it shattered beneath the fridge, and, upon closer inspection, it was found to be coated in blood. Though it was cleaned thoroughly.”

“Next question,” Jamille began in a ludicrous French accent. “On the night of the 5th, what was the location, exactly if possible please, of Paul’s fellow security team members.”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you tell us why your search history contains that of terms such as ‘blood red’, ‘painful black’ and ‘light-dimming blue’?”

I make a face. Abby advises me not to answer but I do anyway. “I’m a fashion designer and the boy’s stylist. Management had asked me to make some outfits involving colours linked to strong emotions. So that’s what I did. I was looking online for some materials.”

“Well, that will be all for now, Ms Michaels. We will place you in a holding cell for a few hours while we determine where we take this. Thank you for your time Miss Ingrid, we will inform the reception Ms Michaels is able to receive visitors after you have left. I assume you will be wanting a debrief.”

“No, thank you Jamille. I will be leaving immediately as I must return to a case. Don’t worry Kayleigh. I will be back in a few hours. They can’t keep you any longer than 24 hours without charging you or releasing you. We’ll have a proper chat then.” Abby leaves the room and I am swiftly taken to a holding cell.

There’s a toilet to the right of the grotty room and a window allowing in very little light due to the layer of grime that covered it. I sighed and sank onto the floor, worrying about what the future held. When I was all but ready to give up on anybody ever seeing me and wondering whether the boys had returned to the hotel, there was a loud, grinding noise as the bolt locking me in was released.

Niall stuck his head around the door first, glancing from left to right before dragging his whole body in.

“The boys said they’ll come inside in a minute, I just wanted a quick chat with you.” He lowered himself to the floor, whispering. “How are you holding up? I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, we were all interrogated by that nosy old bat. Someone called Rian.”

I nod. “I’m doing as well as someone can be expected to when they’re locked up like a caged animal, but I’ll survive. It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Niall nods, pulling his lips inwards. “Hey, we all know you had nothing to do with this Kayleigh, the boys and I will fight this. We’ve already had the discussion that, until you get out of here, we’re not doing any more shows.”

My eyes widen in horror. “Niall! No! No way, there’s no way I’m going to allow you to do that! For god’s sakes, you twat! You have millions of fans and you’re going to abandon them? No, you leave me here and I’ll join up with you if I get out of here.”

“No ifs, Kayleigh. I’m not going to change my mind on this one and neither are the boys. We WILL prove you had nothing to do with this. I promise you.” He reaches out a tentative hand and rests it on my knee.

Shutting my eyes, I fall heavily into my best friend’s open arms. I sob, I sob louder than I have ever sobbed before. Niall says nothing, just stroking my hair in his usual ways. After a good five minutes of me crying and Niall just sitting there, he finally decides to do something. He pulls my head away from his chest and silently wipes away my tears. He fingers his sopping shirt, considering something for a moment. In an instant, he grabs the hem and whips it off, folding the shirt up.

“I’m going to see if one of the boys has a spare shirt. You’ve clearly got this one wetter than a swimming pool. Give me a sec, the boys will come in to see ya in a second.” He disappears out of the door and leaves me sitting there, staring into oblivion and wishing for a miracle. God I want a miracle.

You
I’d just been numb when they’d taken her from the room. I’d done it, someone else was accused of murder. I was clear of suspicion. The feeling of elation that had provided me with was something else. But the one person I was trying to protect had gotten hurt in the process. That was something I hadn’t banked on, but I wasn’t going to let it show. Because mistakes lead to clues, and clues lead to the police. And the police, well they lead to me hurting her. And I can’t do that. I refuse to do it.

I will make sure she goes down, as much as I love her. Because I need to protect people. And I can’t do that in jail. I will make sure there’s so much evidence, she’ll never be given the Not Guilty verdict. I’ll make her pray for a miracle.

Notes

Hi! Thank you for reading this :) it means a lot to me! :) I'm going to try and do an update every four days because I have school etc but I'll update soon I promise!

I've started editing the next chapter and I'm hoping to put that up tomorrow but we'll see! Thank you for supporting me guys!