The next morning, Boo is at the station before the doors open. She waits in her car for someone to unlock the front entrance, and as soon as a uniform shows up she's out and marching up the steps.

"Good morning," she says cheerily to the cop fiddling with the doors.

He gives her the side-eye but doesn't respond. Boo waits a moment to speak again.

"Are there any officers here yet?"

"Does it look like there is?" the cop replies gruffly. He swings open the door to reveal a dim, empty station. Boo follows him inside and he gives her another wary glare.

"Please, I need to speak to someone as soon as possible," Boo begs. "It's urgent."

The cop sighs deeply as he steps behind the reception desk and starts flicking on different switches. Breakers whine in protest before the hallways flood with light.

"Sign in on the clipboard and have a seat on the bench," he instructs her before ambling away. Boo scribbles her name on the clipboard and plonks down onto a bench in the hallway, placed just beneath the window that looks into the main desk area of the department.

The officer from last time shows up just after nine in the morning, a paper coffee cup in one hand and a briefcase in the other. His hair is unkempt and his coat askew as he tromps in through the front doors, grumbling to himself. His eyes meet Boo's and she stands right away, looking at him expectantly.

His jaw tightens. "Can I help you?" he spits, walking right past her.

His acrid tone hits her like a slap to the face but she manages to keep a peaceful demeanor; the last thing she wants to do is poke the bear this early in the morning.

"I need to talk to the coroner," she says, trailing after him into the main department. He ignores her for a moment, flicking on a set of switches by the door. Boo watches as the room illuminates in sections. The officer crosses the middle of the room and turns down a small hallway, passing the interrogation room where they first met.

"Coroner isn't here," he finally says as they reach a plain brown door. The nameplate on the wall says DET. LOUGHTON in thick white letters.

"Is that your name?" she asks, gesturing to the nameplate. He nods wordlessly, grey eyes watching her like a hawk. She hadn't realized he was a detective; maybe he'll be able to pull some strings for her.

"When does the coroner get here?" Boo presses, turning the conversation back. Detective Loughton unlocks the door to his office and enters, leaving Boo to follow behind like a lost puppy.

"Don't know," Loughton mutters as he begins unloading his stuff. He takes a sip from his paper cup and watches Boo closely. "Why do you need to see him?"

Boo, uninvited, takes a seat in one of the two leather chairs across from Loughton's desk; perhaps as a sign of compliance, she isn't sure. His eyes narrow as she sits but he doesn't say anything. "The county won't order an autopsy because of the hurricane, so I thought I would talk to him about it."

"Wasting your breath," Loughton says, almost tauntingly. "If the county won't perform one, the coroner won't either. His orders come from the county office."

"Please," Boo tries again. "I'd rather just talk to him."

Loughton shrugs. "If you say so. But you can't wait in here, you'll have to go back to the lobby."

"Okay," she says in defeat. "Can you at least show me where his office is?"

"This is a small department," the detective groans. "It isn't hard to find."

"Please," she implores. Why is he acting so difficult?

"Fine," Loughton agrees, somewhat begrudgingly. He runs his hands through his tousled hair before his face hardens. "We've also yet to finish our interview from the other day."

Boo swallows hard, suddenly anxious at the thought of being back in that cold interrogation room, alone with a man who holds such clear disdain for her. He and Nathaniel probably get along swimmingly. "What is there to finish? Nana died in the hurricane."

"Is that why you're pushing an autopsy so bad?" Loughton sneers, his words dangling in the air. He stares down at Boo, who's doing her best to keep a neutral expression but can feel herself failing.

Somehow he can see it - the speck of doubt inside. The tiny, nagging worry that could only be dissipated by an autopsy; the worry that maybe Nana didn't just die from the hurricane.

"I," she says slowly, "I'm just doing that to be absolutely certain."

The detective goes to say something further but an abrupt banging noise stops him mid-sentence.

He and Boo both instinctively turn to look at the wall; the noise came from the other side of it, from the main department area. Loughton flashes her a look and rounds his desk, walking briskly. Another loud thud sounds from behind the wall before the voices pick up.

"Stay here," he orders her, not missing a beat in his footsteps as he opens the door and disappears into the hallway. Boo drums her fingers on the side of the chair, counts to ten in her head, then follows after Loughton.

The scene outside the detective's office is like something from a cheap Lifetime movie. Papers are scattered all across the floor of the main office, several cops are up on their feet intensely yelling, and in the middle of the chaos stands the neighbor from Martha's street, his arms twisted behind him as a result of the handcuffs clipped around his wrists.

H. Styles.

His handsome features are masked by a deep scowl and it looks like he's been on the receiving end of a fight. His curls are mussed and his clothes are frumpy, hanging awkwardly from his tall frame. His keen eyes somehow find Boo from across the room as she stops just outside the office door, lips agape in surprise.

Good God, she thinks. Up until a few weeks I'd never seen this man in my life, and now he's everywhere I go.

He seems equally confused to see her standing there. She grits her teeth as they engage in a frigid staring contest, but before anything can happen she's interrupted by the detective again.

"I told you to stay in my office," he snaps, appearing from nowhere and roughly grabbing her. Bony fingertips dig into her slim arm, squeezing painfully into her muscle, and she instantly jerks away from him in disgust.

"Don't you dare touch me again," she snarls aggressively. He continues to leer down at her. "Or I'll be pressing charges for battery."

Loughton seems rather unfazed. "Get back in the room, please."

The pleasantry that leaves his thin lips is anything but genuine.

"What's going on out here?" she asks brusquely, ignoring his command. Her feet shuffle further away from him, inching her body closer to the neighbor. From the corner of her vision she can see him still watching her intently, seeming to pay no mind to the cop manhandling him or the shouting officers.

"A situation you do not need to concern yourself with," the detective answers brusquely. He nods his head towards the office door.

"Why is he being arrested?" she asks, gesturing to the neighbor.

"He attacked an officer," the detective replies. His lips set in a hard line.

Boo's eyebrows shoot up involuntarily. Sure the neighbor seemed aloof and a bit asocial, but she hadn't gotten any violent vibes during the brief time she'd spent around him.

She turns out of habit and catches his eye, and for the smallest of moments she can swear she sees a ghost of a smile curve onto his lips.

"He's with me," she blurts. The words leave her mouth before she knows what she's saying.

"Who?" Loughton asks sharply.

Boo nods her head at the neighbor. "He is. I asked him to come pick me up after my conversation with the coroner. So thanks for bringing him here, I guess."

"We aren't done here," the detective counters. His cold eyes watch her closely but Boo refuses to be intimidated.

"I am," she says firmly. "Now if you don't mind, please kindly uncuff my friend and take me to see the coroner. You said you would."

The detective's jaw sets in fierce irritation, but after a moment he concedes. He strides across the room, chatting with the agitated officers for a long minute before finally removing the neighbor's handcuffs. For a moment, it looks as though Loughton gives him some kind of harsh warning before both men turn to look at Boo. The neighbor rubs his wrists with a curious expression, while the detective has a spiteful gleam in his eye.

Loughton marches over to Boo. "His office is down the hall," he quips before turning to leave. "I trust a girl like you is capable of finding it."

"Wait," she says, halting him in his tracks. He turns to glare at her. "I'll be needing your badge number. For future reference." From his cross expression, she knows the acidity in her voice isn't lost upon him.

"Five, six, zero, nine," he answers, very deliberately.

Then he turns and disappears into his office, slamming the door behind him. Several officers cleaning up the mess of papers shoot up as the sound echoes around the room. Boo casts a deliberate look at the neighbor, still standing quietly in the middle of a sea of desks with his eyes on her, before she heads in search of the coroner.

« • »

The coroner's office is just down the hall from the main department, right before the stairs that lead to the basement and the morgue. Boo hesitates outside the brown double doors, her fingers barely resting on the handle as she braces herself for another difficult conversation.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

A deep voice, slow and golden like honey; she knows it well, somehow. She turns and sees the neighbor standing a few feet away, hands clasped behind his back as he watches her curiously.

"I know," she answers. A part of her is unsure whether this man is to be trusted, but something about the way he looks at her is unlike anything she's ever seen. No fear in his eyes, no aggression, not even after she'd accosted him in his yard the day before. Merely curiosity, as though he wants to truly understand who he's looking at.

"Why did you then?" he asks, stepping forward.

Good question. She has no real reason why, so she shrugs. "It just felt right. The cops here aren't people you want to be around for too long, figured I'd step in for you."

He nods, his lower lip sliding out in a gentle pout. "Ah, I see."

"Plus," Boo blurts, unable to contain herself. "You went to her funeral. So consider it a thanks."

"You don't have to thank me," he replies kindly. "I wanted to pay my respects. She was a good neighbor to me."

"Why did they arrest you?" she presses. "The detective said you attacked an officer."

"I didn't attack anyone," the neighbor answers. "When I woke up there were officers trespassing on my yard. I went outside to see what was going on and before I knew it, they'd handcuffed me and I was being brought here."

She furrows her brow. "That's . . . weird. Why were they there?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Perhaps they were looking for someone else, but in any case, all that commotion upstairs was quite unnecessary."

Boo can't help but smile small; she likes how he speaks, so candidly and even a bit formally. Entirely different to the standoffish neighbor she'd encountered yesterday. His gentle tone is beginning to make her regret how quickly she jumped down his throat.

She hesitates, her fingertips lingering on the door handle. "Would you like to meet up sometime? Maybe for coffee. I'd like to hear what you thought about her."

He gazes at her wordlessly, a strange look taking over his eyes. She can't quite place why but it makes her nervous.

"O-Or not coffee, maybe something else," she stammers, the intensity of his stare getting to her. "I hear bubble tea is really good. Or there's some bars downtown if you really feel like drinking, but that's -"

"I'd love to," he interrupts gently. A crooked grin settles on his lips, and for the first time Boo realizes how incredibly attractive Martha's neighbor is. "How about tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Boo breathes out, suddenly nervous. Her grip on the door handle begins to slide as her palms turn slick. "I . . . I, uh."

The neighbor's grin grows in amusement grows upon seeing Boo fumbling for speech. "I'm Harry, by the way," he says, licking his lips. He holds out a hand for her to shake, revealing a cluster of rings on his jaunty knuckles. She shakes his hand, acutely aware of the way his skin feels on hers.

"I'm Boo," she says in a small voice.

"Boo?" he repeats. His eyebrow arches up at her. "That's a nickname, yes?"

She nods, biting her tongue. He purses his lips in a tiny smile, and dimples pop out on both of his cheeks. Boo feels her insides turn to mush.

"Well, Boo," he purrs. Her insides squirm in delight at hearing her name on his lips. "I will be seeing you very soon."

"How about tomorrow?" she asks faintly. Her hand clamps around the door handle for support.

"We already agreed on tomorrow," he chuckles.

"Right!" she cries, internally face-palming. "Sorry, I totally blanked."

Harry bites back a smile. "Feel free to come by whenever you want."

"Okay," she says with a shy grin. "Thanks, Harry."

He gives her a small wave before turning and loping back down the hallway. Boo watches him go with stars in her eyes. He peeks over her shoulder as he reaches the front doors, waves again, and disappears. Boo hesitates in the hallway for a breath longer before pulling open the door and entering the coroner's office.

hey y'all! here's a nice long update to show my appreciation for your patience :) i've been very preoccupied with spooky week lately but not that that's over, this story will be my first priority again 😊 xx