After spending the morning in my fluffy hoodie and sipping from the hot chocolate with whipped cream and small marshmallows floating on the surface, I get dressed into a causal wear; a grey vest top and a pair of comfy tracksuit bottoms. I fiddle with the piercing in my bellybutton; a result of my spontaneous stage when I was eighteen and wanted to experiment. My dad kept Raine and I away from the outside world after my mum died, so every experience I should have had was stripped away from me. As soon as I had the chance, I tried my first cider and my first cigarette, I went to parties and clubs, I had my first kiss, learnt how to handle weapons for my job, got a tattoo and got this piercing. Sometimes I'm embarrassed of it and I always hide it from others because of that, but I can't seem to let go of it. It's a reminder of that time of my life, when I was only just starting to live freely.

I'm looking out of my window that showcases the grey clouds with small raindrops sliding down it. I always used to pretend they were racing to get to the bottom as a way to distract myself from the sadness in my childhood home.

There's a knock on my door, so I quickly set down my mug on the side and check over my flat once more before answering Trevor and allowing him to enter.

He steps in and takes a sniff before his eyebrows raise. "You've been cleaning?"

"How can you tell?"

He coughs into his hand and then chuckles. "I can smell it from outside your door."

Giving him a sarcastic smile, I go to open the window. "Do you want a drink?"

"A water will be fine, thank you," he replies with one of his charming smiles before he takes a seat on my brown leather sofa that's covered with a white blanket. "Done much today?"

"Relaxed. I love when it's raining and I'm inside and can hear the sounds and drink my hot chocolate."

"I agree, but I do love the warm weather. How else would I get my tan?" Trevor grins and holds up his arm, showing off his golden glow.

"Ever tried a tanning lotion?" I joke.

He scoffs sarcastically, proving to me that he actually has. "Never."

"Hmm. Course you haven't," I tease as I fill his glass with water from the tap and pop in a few ice cubes just to be nice, even though he doesn't need the added coldness to go with this weather.

Trevor takes the glass from my hand with a grateful smile as I sit down beside him. His hand is pulsing with noticeable veins that run up his muscular arms. Any person would drool over this, but for some strange reason, I feel nothing. I don't think I'd ever be able to see Vincent and Trevor as more than friends. In fact, they're more like brothers. We're not very close, but we'd do anything to protect each other. The thought of being anything more with them makes my stomach churn—no offence to them, it's just my preference.

I sometimes wonder if I'm capable of growing feelings for another person. I've certainly never felt anything of the sort before for anyone. As time has passed me by and now I'm almost in my thirties, I've started to wonder if there's something wrong with me. I've kissed people before, but I've never felt the spark or connection that a person would feel. Time is moving on so quickly and I'm starting to worry that I'll never settle down and find someone to love.

What if I'm alone forever? The thought makes me shiver and is too intense to think about in this moment, so I quickly make conversation with Trevor as a tactic to wash it away from my mind and store it deep down to dwell on another day.

"So," I say, getting comfy as I prepare for the day ahead. All relaxation time is over now. "Did anyone call in?"

"A few. They were all prank calls," he says.

"Oh-"

"Except from one," he reveals before pulling his laptop from his bag and opening the screen.

A lady's profile pops up before us. She looks to be in her late-twenties, with dark skin and a smile that anyone would long for. Her dark hair is in long plaits; in a half-up-half-down hairstyle.

"The getaway driver is a man," I say blankly.

Trevor furrows his eyebrows. "No, this is the person who called."

"Oh, right." I shake my head and try to catch up to speed. Clearly I've been relaxing too much this morning and my brain has apparently shut off.

Instead of belittling me or rolling his eyes, Trevor lets out a small, light laugh that helps to make me feel relieved.

"Who did she call about?" I ask.

"Her boyfriend actually." Trevor clicks on the next page to showcase a man's profile. He looks around the same age as his girlfriend, with pale skin and a stubbly beard. His face is thin with sunken cheekbones and a rosy glow to his cheeks.

"What did she say?"

"Well, apparently he's been going out to the gym a couple times a week; sometimes during the day and sometimes at night. She got suspicious, so she contacted the gym and found out he was never a member. She confronts him, he makes up this whole story that he was actually going to pilates classes and was too embarrassed to tell her. She calls up the company that runs the classes, but they won't tell her whether he's a member or not. He was at one of his classes the day of the bank incident."

After listening and allowing the information to quickly click into place, I take a deep breath and lean back into the sofa. "So he hasn't been taking classes. He's been planning a bank robbery with Raine."

"Basically. That's what she thinks after the information on the tattoo came out."

"He has a tattoo in the same place?"

"Yep." Trevor gets up a photo of a chest with a quote written across the left side. It's a quote with very...vulgar words. I raise my eyebrows as I read it.

"Woah," I whisper, trying not to show the disapproval on my face. "Well it all fits together. It's a worth looking into."

"My thoughts exactly," Trevor agrees.

On the way to the woman's flat, Trevor gets in contact with the company that runs that pilates classes and finds out that the man had never once attended a class, further proving ours and his girlfriend's suspicion towards the incident. We park outside on the pavement and buzz her flat, waiting for her to let us in so we can talk about it in further detail.

"I didn't realise you'd be in contact so quickly," she says when we all sit down at the dining table. She brings us both a cup of tea.

"It's a serious incident and not one we'll take lightly," Trevor responds.

She smiles uncomfortably. "Well, my name's Trisha...as you probably know."

"Detective Davidson. It's sorry we have to meet this way," Trevor introduces himself with a friendly smile. At first glance, Trevor is intimidating and frightening, but really he's sweet and kind with so much consideration for all those around him, no matter the person.

"I'm Detective Woods. Nice to meet you," I say before shaking her hand.

"And you," Trisha say before biting down on her nails nervously. "So you're here to talk about Harper."

"That's correct," Trevor says. "We're just going to ask a few questions to figure out if Harper may be involved."

"You're not going to arrest him?" she asks.

"Not unless we have evidence or further proof. That's why we're here," Trevor explains while I watch Trisha's reactions carefully. She blows out a deep breath and allows her shoulders to drop. She's relieved by this. "We know that he wasn't attending any of those classes. He was definitely somewhere else."

Trisha's hand slides up and holds the front of her neck where she begins to rub it in a soothing way. "I knew something was going on. He's been acting so strange and distant. I-I know we've been having struggles, but I didn't think he'd do this, I swear."

"Has he ever said anything about doing something like this?"

Trisha pulls her eyebrows together. "Maybe, but he said it as a joke. Not anything serious. He's not that type of guy. Sure, he'll annoy people at the bar and sometimes get into a few scuffles, but he wouldn't do something like this...I thought he wouldn't. Feels like I don't know him at all."

"When did you meet Harper?" Trevor continues to question.

"Three years ago. We were twenty-four."

"When did you start to suspect that something was going on?"

She pauses to think back. "A couple months ago? I can't be exactly sure."

"That's okay. Just give as much information as you can. Only answer what you want to," I say, finally speaking after allowing Trevor to take the lead.

Trisha takes a deep breath and nods her head as she rubs her hands on her thighs. "I don't want him to get into trouble. I just didn't know what to do. I'm so confused," she expresses in a distressed way as she rubs her sweaty forehead and begins to tap her foot against the floor. "I don't even know what I'm doing. I just panicked. I shouldn't have said anything. I love him, I do. Fuck, what am I doing?"

"It's okay, just take a few breaths. Take a break if you need it, we're not in any rush here. You did the right thing, Trisha," Trevor assures her.

She begins to hyperventilate, causing Trevor to grab a glass of water for her to slowly sip on as we both comfort her and try to get her breathing back to a somewhat normal state.

That's when we hear the front door close. Trisha stops breathing altogether and stares at the kitchen doorway with fear coating her expression and causing the room to turn cold and tense.

"Trisha?" a man's voice calls out before the man we viewed on the photo before strolls into the room. He pauses when he sees us, his wide eyes dart around the room, trying to figure out the scenario. "What the fuck?"

I stand from the chair and reassure Trisha with a smile. Trevor stands between her and Harper with an intimidating stance.

"Who are these people? What's going on?" Harper demands answers from Trisha.

She rests her elbows on the white circular dining table and rests her face in the palms of her hands.

"Trisha?" he says harshly.

"I think it's better if we have this conversation at the station," Trevor says.

"What? The station?" Harper looks at Trisha desperately, begging for answers. "Who are you people?"

"I'm Detective Davidson, this is Detective Woods. We have reason to believe that you were involved in a bank robbery on the eighth of January. I'm not arresting you, but I'd like you to come down to the station so I can ask you a few questions."

Harper stares at us blankly for a few seconds, waiting for something before he roars with laughter and claps his hands. We all watch as he walks to the fridge and grabs a cartoon of orange juice that he begins to chug down. "Very good. You almost got me. Seriously, where did you find these jokers, Trish?"

"It's not a joke, Harper," she tells him in a broken voice with tears strolling down her cheeks.

Once he sees the state his girlfriend's in, he looks back at us with wide eyes and allowing his lips to part due to the shock he feels. "You can't be serious."

Trevor pulls out his ID. "Like I said before, I'm Detective Davidson and we have reason to believe you were involved with the-"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time!" he exclaims with an offended expression. "Why the fuck do you think I was involved?"

Trevor and I remain silent, unsure of how to approach this without dropping Trisha in the deep end. I open my mouth to explain that we got an anonymous tip off about the tattoo, but Trisha beats me to it.

"I told them," she admits.

Harper goes through a ray of mixed emotions. I watch the confusion turn into anger, the anger turn into heartbreak, the heartbreak turn into a feeling of betrayal. He loses his footing and stumbles back until he's against the wall, staring at Trisha like she's a stranger to him. I can tell by the look on her face that she regrets everything.

"So," Trevor says, taking a step closer. "Where were you on the morning of the eighth of January?"