by S A Tameez
“I went home. I had got blood on my shirt and had to clean up.”
“Did you see Sarah Fowler after that?” Nick asked.
“No, that was the last time I saw her.”
There was brief silence. Zoe could hear him breathing loudly. Not always a sign of guilt. Could just be nerves. She flicked back the page and glanced over the notes she had just made.
“You mentioned that she seemed on edge. Can you elaborate on that?”
“I don’t know. She seemed upset, nervous, perhaps even scared.”
“Did she mention she was scared about anything?”
“No, it was the way she was behaving… it wasn’t like her.”
“How about anyone? Did she say anything about anyone wanting to hurt her? Anyone she was concerned about?”
“No. She didn’t mention anyone.”
Zoe thought back to the image of her body. The scars from the self-harm. Pretty boy, over here, had memories of the young innocent girl he had a crush on in school, not the young woman who was clearly troubled. Not many people showed that part of their life on social media. They show a trail of happy pictures without showing the not so happy ones that connected them.
“Do you remember seeing anyone else near her. Anyone watching her – anything suspicious at all?”
“No, not really. I mean there were people around but nothing unusual.”
There was a faint knock on the door and the chubby man popped his head into the room.
“Sorry, only me, just wanted to know if you had changed your mind on the coffee or tea.
“We’re still OK, thanks,” Nick said, and they both stood up.
“I think we’re done here, for now,” Zoe said and handed Justin her contact card. “If you think of anything else, anything at all that may be helpful, give us a call.”
“Of course,” he said glanced at the card and put it into his trouser pocket.
Chapter 37
The station was just how he left it, yet it felt different. Nick had only been away for a few days, but it was like so much had happened since. He was out of place. He sat at his desk, disorientated. Not sure what he was doing here.
Zoe was preparing to interview Norman Hyde, the main suspect. He knew Marcus or Vivian would go in with her. That would be best as he wasn’t even officially back to work. Should definitely not be involved in this. Besides, he really couldn’t be relied on right now. Not in the right state of mind. It didn’t take much these days to make technical errors that see a guilty person walk free. He couldn’t have that on his conscience. He had enough on his plate already. He glanced at his phone, half expecting it to display missed calls and messages from Stacey. Nothing. He took her attention for granted, when this was all over and she and their baby were home and things went back to a new normal, he would be there for them both. A reliable husband and a devoted father. And work would always be secondary.
He strolled to Harold’s office and knocked on the door.
“Nick, come in,” Harold said peering over his reading glasses. “Take a seat,” he gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “How are you? And Stacey and the little guy?”
“Fine,” Nick said, “We’re all fine, thanks for asking.”
“That’s great news. They say you become a real man when you have a child.”
“Really?”
“No. Just made that up.” He leaned forward, “But it is a great feeling, right?”
“Sure is,” Nick said trying to picture his baby boy’s face.
“So, what you doing here? Surely, you can’t be wanting to get back to work already. This is supposed to be your bonding time with your baby, and I can imagine Stacey would love the help, you know having given birth and all that?”
“I’m not back to work yet, not officially. But I need to get away for a bit.”
“And you chose to come here?”
It sounded strange now that Harold was saying it so plainly. People don’t usually think about going into work to clear their heads. A long drive to nowhere, see an old friend, that’s what normal people did. But normal people had friends. Harold and Zoe were the closest things he had to real friends.
“Come on, let’s get a coffee, you look like you could use one.” Harold said stretching his arms, “I’ll even let you buy it.”
“Cheers!”
After a couple of cups of coffee and a long yet pleasant conversation with Harold, Zoe joined them at the table in the station’s lounge area.
“Here’s trouble,” Harold remarked as she sat down, looking flustered. “How’d it go with Norman Hyde?”
“Don’t ask,” she sighed.
“That good?”
“Worse. He didn’t say a thing. Not one word.”
“He ask for a solicitor?” Harold said.
“Not a word. Nothing.”
“Strange,” Harold remarked.
“Me and Marcus both tried to get him to talk but he stayed zipped. Didn’t even look up at us.”
“He’s not going to make this easy.”
“No one ever does.” Nick said.
“Well, that Sailor fella seemed pretty compliant.” Harold said.
“Talking about Dominic Hudson,” Nick said, “When is he being transported?”
Harold peered at his watch, “In about an hour.”
“Perfect,” Zoe said, “I’ve got time to say goodbye.”
“I didn’t know you two were such good friends,” Harold smiled.
“We’re not.”
“Harold, you ready?” Curtis said as he approached.
“Ready for what?” Harold’s face then changed, “Oh, yes. Give me a few minutes.”
“Great I’ll wait for you in the foyer,”
“OK, erm… we need to car share with everyone going, there isn’t a lot of parking.”
Curtis left.
“What’s going on?” Nick said, and judging by the look Zoe had, she was thinking the same thing.
Harold glanced at Zoe and then back at Nick.
“It’s Dean Morrison, Harvey Morrison’s brother. He was stabbed a little while ago. He spent a bit of time in ICU and although the docs were hopeful, he didn’t make it. He died yesterday morning.”
Nick could see the colour draining from Zoe’s face. She was obviously not told about it. Which was understandable considering.
“A few of us guys are going to the funeral. Harvey isn’t taking this well.”
“I can imagine,” Nick said. “Any leads on the attacker?”
“Not yet. Was some gang related thing.”
“Post code wars?”
“Yup, something stupid like that.”
“I should go and get the paperwork started for Norman Hyde,” Zoe said and walked off without waiting for a response to her excuse to leave.
“How’s she doing?” Nick asked after she left.
“She’s doing well. I mean I think the whole Harvey Morrison blunder is behind her and… she’s done really well on this investigation.”
“She seems to be gelling with everyone around here again,” Nick said, “Perhaps things might just be OK.”
“It would be a shame to lose her,” Harold said, “She’d make a great DS.”
“You’d recommend her?”
“In a heartbeat. But it would be a lot easier if she wasn’t so rough around the edges, that’s for sure.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more. But I think we’re all a little rough around the edges.”
“Right,” Harold stood and put his coat on, “I had better head out, don’t want to be late.”
“Of course,”
“Now, you need to get back to your wife and son. You’re not needed or welcome around here.”
“I’m not needed anywhere.”
“Course you are. You’re a father now. It’s a great responsibility.”
“Thanks, Mr Miyagi!”
“You’re welcome. Now, don’t let me see you here when I get back. Don’t want to see you for the next couple of
weeks.”
“Charming.”
“I mean it! Don’t make me fire you!”
****
Zoe marched up towards the door of the cell that Dominic Hudson was being held in. She wanted, needed to do this. He would be out of here in just a few moments and she couldn’t let him just leave. Not like this. Not with him feeling on top of the world.
She opened the metal flap and saw him sitting on a hard bed. He looked his usual cool and composed self. Relaxed on the bed as if he was in a hotel, gazing into space without a worry in the world. And that’s exactly why she was here.
“DS Hall,” he said with a sinister smile, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Off the record, I do believe that you didn’t kill Sarah Fowler.”
“That’s because you’re a smart girl,” he smiled widely, “Like I keep telling you.”
“But you did kill the others.”
“That I did.”
“Well, I just wanted to say something before you were dragged out of here.”
“Please, fire-a-way, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Have you heard of Cleithrophobia? It’s similar to Claustrophobia, but not quite the same.”
He remained silent and his smile faded. It was precisely the reaction she hoped for and expected.
“Well, I noticed how your body language changes when we unlock the door and enter. It’s subtle but it’s there, every interview. You try to hide it, but you can’t do it well enough. I think you have a problem with locked doors and the feeling of being trapped, don’t you?”
He was still. Eyes appeared glazed. She hadn’t seen him like this before. He almost looked frightened, and she loved seeing him like that. He didn’t deserve to feel anything good after what he did. What he did deserve was not legal in the UK.
“I think you may have misread me,” he said but without his usual obnoxious demeanour.
“I don’t think I have.” She looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear her, “It gives me great pleasure knowing that you’ll be in a place that is always locked. Always. Every hour of every day! You’ll feel that horrible feeling of being trapped for the rest of your miserable life. It might even show you how terrified the people you murdered were before you butchered them. And just to make you aware, we’d have found the killer.” His face drained of its colour. His good looks suddenly vanished. “The clues were all there. We didn’t need you. You gave yourself up for nothing and now you’re going to rot for it! I hope you beat yourself up about it for the next 50 years!”
She slammed the metal flap satisfyingly sending echoes down the corridor, not giving him the opportunity or satisfaction to respond. She wanted that to be the last thing he heard from her and wanted it to repeat in his head for eternity.
She strode past Keith who was stood at the desk with a curious expression.
“Everything OK?” he asked.
“It is now.”
The station felt deserted. She assumed many of the officers had gone to the funeral. They had this “All for one and one for all” attitude. It was probably a good a thing. She probably only hated the thought because she wasn’t part of it. She had excluded herself when she broke the secret pact to stand by everyone even when she felt she shouldn’t. Maybe she should have. It certainly didn’t get her anywhere. She couldn’t prove Harvey was involved nor did she win the popularity contest. Had she kept her mouth closed, she might have had some friends. This led her to question whether she had got it all wrong? What if Harvey wasn’t involved in anything and she had jumped to conclusions like everyone was saying? Perhaps this is a problem she has. She’s adamant she’s right about everything. Might be why she always went back to an empty home. Maybe her tenacity and drive were facades to distract from her arrogance. Perhaps she thought she was smarter than everyone else. She couldn’t accept being wrong, because she was never wrong.
She walked to the carpark and sat in her car. She was part of the team and it was about time she showed it. She needed to go the funeral and perhaps even apologise to Harvey for making his life hell. She had to prove, even if only to herself, that she wasn’t full of pride and arrogance. That she was susceptible to making mistakes just like everyone else. And she needed to accept that she might have got the Harvey case all wrong. Caused him a whole lot of grief because of her personality issues.
She managed to find a space in the cemetery carpark. She felt paralysed. Unable to get out of the car. It all seemed a lot easier and clearer in her head before she got here.
Within moments, cars had come from behind and blocked her in. She was now unable move her car to leave. Trapped. She rested her head against the steering wheel wishing she could just press reset and start over.
What was she thinking? Why would Harvey want to see her? He was mourning the loss of his brother, who, as she looked around at the packed carpark, was very popular. The last thing Harvey needed was to see her.
Idiot!
As she searched through her glove compartment for a packet of Paracetamol that she could have sworn she left there from the last time she had a splitting headache, she caught sight of a man walking towards her car. She craned her head to see who it was.
It was Harvey.
Shit! Why is this happening?
He walked up to the car next to hers and opened the door.
What were the chances that she would park her car right next to his?
She looked around the carpark and watched as he removed a bouquet of flowers from his car. He hadn’t noticed her sitting in the car. And she knew that in a few moments he would be gone. And so would her opportunity to make things right. She didn’t have the guts to walk into the funeral, that much was clear. She couldn’t face all those people giving her that look. The one that expressed, what the hell is she doing here? But she needed to make things right with Harvey.
She pressed the button to lower the passenger side window. She questioned herself as the glass descended into the door and a cold breeze burst into the car sending shivers through her.
What was she going to say? How could she make anything right? How has she ever made anything right? This was a bad idea, a really bad idea. But it was too late now.
“Harvey,” she called. He turned to face her. His eyes were swollen, and he looked defeated. Broken. “Sorry, I… I know I’m the last person you want to see… but I just wanted to say I’m sorry about your brother.” She remained still and waited for a reaction. He nodded and then turned back and closed the door of his car.
What did she expect? He had just lost his brother and she wasn’t exactly his favourite person.
“I’m really sorry, about everything” she called out again as he walked away. He stopped and turned back and approached the open window. “I’m sorry about everything I put you through. It wasn’t fair. I had no—”
“Do you mind if I take a seat,” he pointed at the empty passenger seat. She was taken aback by the request.
“No, of course not,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. He opened the door and sat inside and silently faced forward. His eyes were welling up and this terrified her. She wasn’t the right person to lean on for support.
“My father worked 14 hours a day in Nigeria,” he said, still not turning to face her. “Dean was only 2 months, and I was 7 when he told us about his dream to come to the UK. He had saved up for 6 six years to fulfil his ambition. Six years. He wanted us to study, be more than what he was.” He rubbed his eyes and coughed to clear this throat. He then let out a quiet laugh, “I bet I sound like a cliché.”
“No… of course you don’t.” she responded not knowing what else to say. Trying her best to not say anything that might offend him.
“My father died before he saw me graduate from university. He never got the chance to see us grow into men. He never witnessed the challenges Dean faced. It was all on my shoulders, I had to step up, try to fit my father’s shoes. But I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t protect him.”
“This wasn’t your fault,” Zoe said.
“Wasn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you were right.”
“Right about what? What are you talking about?”
He squeezed the back of his neck and stared up at the ceiling of the car.
“I was there that night.” He turned to look at her. Her heart began to race. “You were right about that. But I wasn’t there for some drug deal. I hate drugs! I’ve seen what they have done to the community around me. It’s one of the reasons why I chose law enforcement as a career.”
“I don’t understand,” she said thinking back to that night. She stared deep into his eyes as if they were telling her what happened that night. “You were there because of Dean.”
“He was a good kid. I know I must sound like every other older brother, but I’m telling you he was a good kid. Smart, funny… he just got lost along the way.” Tears rolled down his face, “I heard he was mixed up in something and I went to get him and when I realised there was a police operation going on… I got him out of there. I covered up for him. I’m sorry. I wanted to protect him… I owed it to my father. But I realise what I did was wrong. Had he got in trouble then… then—”
“This isn’t your fault,” she said, “What you did was wrong, but he isn’t gone because of you – you have to know that.”
“I have to face up to what I’ve done. None of it matters anymore. The boy I lied for, concealed evidence for, broke my oath for, is lying six foot in the ground.” He wiped his eyes and then looked at her, “I’m so sorry that you had to go through what you did because of me. You didn’t deserve that – you’re a great detective and a good person… and of all the people in the world you were the last person I wanted to hurt.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Forget it. I will report to the station in the morning and make a statement – get this all sorted, once and for all. And I hope that one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.” He tugged at the handle to open the door.
“Wait,” Zoe said and held his arm, “Don’t do that. Don’t lose your job over this.”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
