♡Chapter dedicated to avvvii♡

"Way down until the fire finally dies out.
You got them wrapped around your finger, watch them fall down.
There's something beautiful and tragic in the fall out." Panic! at The Disco

"How much a year do you think they spend on cleaning chemicals?" Jon glanced at the pristine white walls, floors and ceiling of the Hillhurst Pharmaceutical hallway.

"Jon," Isaiah warned, quickening his pace so that the shorter man had to walk faster to keep up with him. "What does it matter?"

"I'm just curious. Company like this makes a shit tonne of money, possible that the benefactor she alluded to in her letter works here?"

"Maybe. That's why we're going to see the owner, a," Isaiah consulted Jon's notes although they were almost illegible, "Damon Hillhurst."

"Named the company after himself, that's a bit vain don't you think? Seems like the kind of guy who would be involved in 'something the world has never seen'."

"Stop speculating," Isaiah reprimanded. "You haven't even met him yet." They stopped in front of a set of double mahogany doors; a gold plaque that read 'Damon Hillhurst' indicated that they had reached their destination.

Ignoring Jon's mutter of 'I was just saying' Isaiah knocked, the sound echoing loudly down the empty corridor.

"Come in," a gruff voice sounded, muffled slightly by the heavy wood.

The Detectives entered Damon Hillhurst's large office, the walls were lined with book shelves, filled with files that dated back to the 1950s, and a large desk sat in the centre, right in front of a window that revealed a perfect view of the surrounding gardens.

The man they had come to speak with sat behind the desk, typing away at a computer. His dark hair was cut short; his piercing blue eyes scanned the screen in front of him. He looked far too young to be the owner of such a large company.

Jon cleared his throat loudly, causing the man to finally look up. He glanced at them quizzically. "May I help you?"

Isaiah flashed his badge. "I'm Detective Sanders, and this is my partner Detective Cartwright. Are you Damon Hillhurst?"

"Yes." His gaze dropped to his lap before returning full force. "Can I ask what this is about?"

"We just want to ask a few questions about a former employee, Anna Baker?"

Damon's shoulder's seemed to sag in relief and he gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk for the Detectives to sit down, clearly not hearing Jon's whisper of 'dodgy fucker'.

Isaiah glanced at his partner, but refrained from scolding him for his immaturity. "Mr Hillhurst, how well did you know Anna Baker?"

Damon leaned forward on the desk, clasping his hands together and leaning his head on them. "Detective, this company employees over one thousand people, spanning across many different departments and three branches. To me she was a name on my payroll."

He had clearly been warned of their visit, his answer seemed to roll off his tongue as though it had been prepared. Rehearsed, even.

"So you had no interactions with her at all?"

"None that I can remember. In fact, I don't even remember employing an "Anna Bakker". His phone rang, the shrill noise echoing loudly in the large office. He looked at the caller ID, before disconnecting the call and turning back to face the detectives. "Girlfriend," he answered their questioning glances. "Fourth time today."

Isaiah ignored the reference to Damon's personal life and instead placed a picture of Anna Baker face up on his desk. "Does this help jog your memory?"

Jon was sure he saw Damon's face twitch as he looked at Anna smiling in the photograph, but it was so fast he may have imagined it.

Damon let out a low whistle. "I am sure I would remember a face like that. Quite the looker, isn't she?" He pushed the picture back towards Isaiah. "It must have been my father who hired her. He stepped down a few years ago, I took over from him."

So that explained his youth. "What's your father's name?"

Neither detective missed the scowl on his face when he answered. "Damon Hillhurst, Senior."

"And can we have his contact details?"

"I'm afraid not Detectives. His mental state is not what it once was. Dementia," he added, almost as an afterthought. "If that would be all, I have a million and one things to get done today." He stood up and gestured towards the door, effectively dismissing the two Detectives.

"So what do you think?" Jon questioned as soon as they were out of earshot. Something had seemed suspicious about Damon Hillhurst Junior, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

"Daddy issues if I've ever seen them. But enough to be involved in something like this? I'm not sure." Isaiah sighed and pulled out his notebook, a list of twenty names written on the page. "Let's get going, we still have plenty people to try and talk to."

School kids could be vicious little buggers.

Bartholomew James knew this better than anyone, having spent the majority of his school years getting teased. Whether it was because of his shocking red hair, pale skin that had been coated in acne, his aptitude for sciences, his thick bottle cap glasses or even just his name, they always found something to bully him for.

It was only once he graduated college and found a job at Hillhurst Pharmaceuticals, that he began to enjoy his life. Of course, this was helped significantly by Anna Baker's appearance in it.

She was the kind of beautiful that reminded him of all of four seasons at once. Her smile, when she graced him with it, was bright like a summer's day. Her chocolate brown hair was the colour of autumn, of the leaves that were ready to fall from the trees. She smelled of spring, fresh and fragrant as blossoming flowers.

Her personality was as icy as winter.

But that didn't stop him from becoming infatuated with her, from obeying her every command as if she was the sun and he was just a cold dark planet, lucky enough to be granted access into her atmosphere. He couldn't believe that a woman of her calibre would ever show interest in someone like him.

When she was asked to leave the company, he honestly thought that his world was coming to an end.

How would he continue to come to work every day, knowing that she wouldn't be there?

It was only her words of encouragement, and the occasional nights he spent with her that convinced him it would be worth staying.

So, when two detectives showed up at his door, asking questions about the woman that was the love of his life, he knew he would protect her with everything that he had.

"Anna would never hurt anyone." It was the third time he had said it since they had arrived at his office, and despite the fact that she had hurt him many times; he refused to change his statement.

The damage she had done to him was emotional and that was completely different.

"Mr James, I understand that this may be difficult for you." The shorter one said in a quiet voice, although it just made Bartholomew's temper rise.

"You don't understand anything. I know Anna, I worked with her. I love-." He stopped himself before he could continue, feeling the tears start to well up in his eyes, the panic starting to bloom in his chest.

"Look, detectives." He took a deep breath in to calm himself. "You have the wrong person. I'm sorry about those kids, and I hope you find them, but this was NOT Anna's doing."

Jon and Isaiah exchanged a look, before nodding slightly and rising from their chairs.

"If you think of anything," Isaiah pulled a card out of his pocket and placed it on Bartholomew's desk. "Give us a call."

Bartholomew looked at the card but made no move to reach for it, instead watching as the Detectives took their leave.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, he picked it up and threw it straight into his bin, knowing he would never bother to call them. Not where Anna was concerned anyway.

But, the detectives could open up a possible Pandora's Box, one that he had worked hard to seal tight. One that he would continue to protect.

And if Anna was going down, well, he would be going down with her.