by S A Tameez
“Sometimes the right thing isn’t the best thing. Why not try to start over? Your mother is going to need you to be strong – be there for her.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I think you should try to put this behind you and move on with your life. I won’t mention anything you said to me to anyone – you have my word.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not.” She smiled, “Now, I think you need to get in there and say goodbye.”
He opened the door with a fresh stream of tears running down his face. He walked to the driver side door and opened it.
“Come with me,” he said raising out his hand.
“What? I don’t think—”
“Please, come with me. It will mean a lot to me.”
Zoe nodded and got out of the car. They silently walked to the burial ground in a bid to bury the past forever.
Chapter 38
“Hello stranger,” Stacey said as Nick walked into the hospital room and landed a kiss on Stacey’s cheek. “Wow, what was that for?”
“For all the times I didn’t do that,” Nick said and put his arms around her.
“Well, I think it’s going to take more than that!” she grinned, “But… it’s a good start.”
They chuckled for a minute before Nick asked, “Where’s the little guy?”
“Your mother’s taken him out for a walk.”
“He’s already walking,” he glanced at his watch, “How long was I gone?”
“Too long!”
“Seriously though, I really must apologise about my mother, she just takes over and—”
“Are you kidding? She’s great. I think I’d be lost without her. She’s been such an angel.”
“Really? OK… that’s sort of changing the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law dynamics – it’s just not natural. You’re supposed to be at each other’s throats!”
“Are we really?”
“Absolutely! You might break something in the universe if you’re not careful! You know, the time space continuum, flux capacitor thing.”
“I see you’ve gone and got yourself a sense of humour – that’s nice. Now, you mind going and getting me a cup of tea? That’ll be really nice.”
“Slave labour this is!” Nick said as he got to his feet.
“Uh, hello! Just had a baby…”
“Oh God, here we go… not the ‘just had a baby card’ already!”
“Tea! Please!”
“Yes boss, right away!” They both chuckled.
Nick smiled and walked through the corridor to the cafeteria with an imaginary spring in his step. Things were going to be OK. He could feel it.
His phone vibrated in his pocket as he waited for the young lady in the cafeteria to make 2 cups of tea.
“Nick Bailey,” he answered.
“Hey Nick, how are you?” Harold asked.
“Umm… I think I’m going to be OK.”
“That’s great. And Stacey and baby?”
“They’re both fine, thanks.”
“Fab. Now, I know you’re off, but I thought you might like to know that the DNA results came back.”
“That was fast,” Nick commented and then squeezed the phone between his ear and shoulder to free his hands to grab the cups of tea.
“Thank you,” he shaped the words with his mouth before putting them down on a table close by.
“And?” he said desperately wanting to know what was coming next.
“We have a match with the blue hooded top. The fabric on the top was a perfect match to what they found on the victim’s clothing and hair. It was Norman Hyde’s.”
“Oh, that’s good, right.”
“Good? That’s perfect. Forensics found a significant amount of data to prove it was him. And the victim’s blood was on the top.”
“Has he been interviewed again?”
“Yes, but he’s still silent.”
“No confession then?”
“We won’t need it. The boys in I.T. have found plenty of photos on his computer to add to the ones we discovered in his room to prove he was stalking her. I think it’s going to be a straightforward case.”
“That’s brilliant.” Nick said, “Zoe must be pleased.”
“She is. I think.”
“Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good. What do you mean you think?”
“Well, she didn’t really react. She went quiet and then said she’s taking the rest of the day off.”
“I thought she’d be chuffed. She played a strong part in solving this case.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“It might just be all the Harvey Morrison stuff. I mean to see them walking to the funeral together. I mean who would have thought it.”
“I’m glad they’ve managed to squash their issues.”
“Me too. Might be able to get some normality back at the station.”
“Anyway, now that I’ve shared the good news with you. Get back to your family.”
Nick wasn’t going to argue with that, “See you soon, Harold.”
“I hope not! I don’t want to see you for a while.”
****
Zoe sat at the café and gazed into the air. It all felt like a dream. The meeting in the carpark with Harvey, him confessing to her what she knew all along – he was there that night. And her deciding to not tell anyone what really happened. It was a lot to take in. Had she done the wrong thing? Although she had convinced herself that she hadn’t, there was a part of her that wasn’t so sure. For months, the thought of Harvey would make her want to scream. He was there that night, she was right, and no one believed her. Instead, they ostracised her, made her feel like a traitor.
Had she now done her typical emotional decision making? Now concealing the truth just because he gave her an emotional pitch. Was that what it was? Had he just made up the entire thing just to fool her into feeling sorry for him? It would be a way to keep her quiet, which is what everyone wanted, her to just be quiet.
But that wasn’t what was plaguing her mind, it was Norman Hyde.
How did he do it? How did he kill her exactly? And what about the murder weapon? And how did he get her to the bridge and throw her off? The Forensics report showed that she was not killed where she was found. None of it made sense. She had already checked that he didn’t have a driver’s license – nor did he own a car. His mother didn’t own one either so he couldn’t have used that. This would be so much easier if he said something, but it was as if he was mute. Surely, someone would have seen him drag a battered girl across the streets to the bridge. Looking at his skinny frame, he wouldn’t have managed it.
She had read about sick killers who never told their story because they thrived on people not knowing, especially the victim’s families and the Police. Not knowing was far worse than knowing, even if what you know was unbearable.
Perhaps Forensics got it wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe the victim was battered at the bridge and then thrown over. Then a lot of this would make sense.
Was she overthinking it all? She did have a habit of overthinking things.
Details.
Was there something they missed?
Suspicious cars. Suspicious people. Something about the timing? Something on CCTV? Something? There was her uncle’s car but that was sorted, but what if he was involved and they had missed it? He and Mrs Fowler had been very quiet for a while. Quiet for people who had just lost someone they loved in such a brutal way.
Or what if Norman did have access to a car that they didn’t know about? It was a long shot, but it would really help put things together in her mind. She visualised herself marching into Norman’s holding cell and beating him until he spoke but quickly brushed the thought away.
Maybe that’s what she had to with all her silly thoughts, brush them away. They had the prime suspect in custody. The shoe fit nicely. There was enough evidence against him. She needed to let this go. She needed to go
home. Get some rest. Things would seem much clearer after a few hours kip, she fooled herself.
Approaching her doorstep, she toyed with the idea of turning around and heading back to the station. She was tired of going to back to an empty house every night. She sighed, then opened the door and kicked off her shoes.
Shit!
She’d forgotten the milk for the cereal she had planned to have for her extravagant dinner. It would have to be tea without milk and a few stale biscuits. Appetising.
She gazed at the clock and realised there were a fair few hours before she would even feel remotely tired enough to hit the sack and it was physically impossible for her to sleep during the day. She had wrestled with insomnia and lost on many occasions and sleeping pills made her feel like crap.
The milk-less tea left a bitter taste in her mouth. Adding two heaped spoons of sugar didn’t help either. Tasted like Calpol.
What did they miss? She thought as she brushed her teeth in a bid to get rid of that foul tang lingering in her mouth. She walked to the window and stared up at the sky. Grey with faint drizzle. Perfect for a walk or a run or… she peered down the hallway to her bicycle that except for a few days in a year, rested against the wall. A bike ride. That might just be exactly what she needed. There was nothing like cycling through London on a gloomy day. Refreshing.
She fastened her helmet, checked the tire pressure and gave the chain a quick spray of WD40.
She weaved through the evening traffic and her eyes adjusted to the darkening sky and glowing back lights on the rushing vehicles. As she glided through the streets of London, she realised that it was actually a very beautiful place, but it was too busy and congested for anyone to admire its splendour. Some of the buildings were like pieces of art wedged into the street. The colour, the vibrance, multiculturism, it was lovely.
She stopped at a traffic light and watched as everyone rushed to get away. No one had time for anything anymore. You would think that with all the technological advancements people would be granted more time, but it had sucked it all away instead.
She found herself drifting towards the Police station. Not where she was headed but managed to end up there. Not the first time.
She parked her bike and walked inside. She told herself that she would say hello to Curtis, thank him for all his help and take a quick look at the case files before heading back home. If there was something they missed, now would be a good time to find it.
Curtis wasn’t at his desk, so she went to her own desk and plumped herself in her chair. Her clothes were damp, and she snivelled from the sudden warmth. She blew her nose a few times before opening the folders on her desk and spreading out the paperwork.
An hour went by before she accepted that she had read through this so thoroughly that she couldn’t have missed anything. The timing made sense. Norman Hyde was seen in the area where Sarah was last seen. All the other suspects were technically ruled out, she was hacking a tree with a blunt axe.
She read through the notes that the officers who reviewed CCTV left. They had made a list of cars and the plates that were in the area. She removed her notebook and checked to make sure she had copied the list correctly. They matched. She was wasting her time, she knew that. Perhaps she was obsessed with the details and being obsessed with anything was never a good thing.
She checked Norman Hyde’s address and realised it wasn’t far from here. A quick detour on the way home and she could ride right through it. Not sure why she would or how it would help.
The drizzle had stopped, and the traffic was clearing. She rode fast and without observing anything other than the road. She reminded herself about the milk and tried to talk herself out of taking a detour to the road where Norman Hyde lived. It was cold and her damp clothes were making it feel painful. She should go home, get showered and hit the sack.
She lost the argument and ended up on his road. It was quiet. She rode past his house, number 11, not knowing what she had expected to see. It looked like a normal house. The bedroom lights were on. She didn’t stop. Turned back at the end and rode past again. It wasn’t a wide road and had cars parked on either side. She scanned the parked cars to see if anything stood out. Again, not sure what she expected to see. The Indexers had done a thorough check for vehicles registered to Norman or his mother. There was nothing. They didn’t own a car. This wasn’t unusual as driving in the Capital was not for everyone. Much easier to hop on a bus, tube or cycle.
She turned around and rode back through for the last time. This time she wouldn’t stop at the end and turn back, she would ride through and keep riding until she got to the 24-hour off license close to her house, grab some milk and call it a night. Except when she rode past this time, a car caught her eye. Probably because she hadn’t seen one like it for a while. It was an old dark blue BMW 325i. Motorsport edition. Very rare to see an old car like this parked on the streets of London. It was parked a few houses down from number 11.
She stopped besides the vehicle and got off her bike. Her father owned a 325i and she had many happy memories of it. But this one didn’t share the same appeal. It was tattered and one of the wheels looked almost flat.
A sound.
She turned suddenly and looked back. Nothing. She scanned the street but saw no one.
She activated the flashlight function on her phone on and looked at the number plate and then flicked through her notebook. No matching number plates.
She sighed.
What was she expecting?
The sound remerged.
Her pulse was in her ears. Heartbeat raced. Was someone there? Lurking in the shadows. Hiding behind the rows of cars. She wouldn’t be able to tell if there was. It was too dark and the flashlight on her phone did very little to see in the distance.
She quickly noted the reg and then put the book back into her pocket. There was something about the street, something that gave her the chills; she needed to get out of there. Lifting her bike from the ground, she glanced up at number 11 and noticed that the bedroom lights had gone off.
She pushed the bike and hopped on. Peddling as fast as she could. She felt as if she was being watched as she rode off the street and on to the main road.
Relief coursed through her as she saw headlights of cars on the road. It was comforting to be around other people. She had always found comfort in busy places.
She pushed her bike into the hallway and slammed the door shut behind her. She fastened the double lock and the chain, none of which she had used since she had moved in.
Something was wrong with this investigation, she knew it. They had missed something. She kicked off her shoes and walked into the kitchen.
Crap! She had forgotten the milk again. She was losing it. Her mind was all over the place and it wasn’t healthy.
She washed, brushed her teeth, flossed and got under her covers. She needed to sleep. Perhaps nothing was wrong, and all this panic and confusion and paranoia was due to lack of sleep. Her teachers would frequently tell her parents that she had an overactive imagination. This was great for English, art and drama, but got her in trouble in every other area. And sleep deprivation just amplified everything. Her mind didn’t get a chance to rest. It needed to rest.
After an hour of tossing and turning in bed, she gave up. She was just wasting time. Not sleeping and not doing anything productive. Doing nothing except thinking stupid things. Stupid things that would get her into all kinds of trouble.
She flung the duvet off and walked to the kitchen. She flicked the switch for the kettle and then strolled to the living room. The thought of a cup of tea without milk was stomach-wrenching but anything was better than nothing.
Distraction. That’s what she needed. Get her mind off everything, that might be the only way to stop her brain from frying completely. She flicked through the channels on her TV and stopped on a news channel. She stared at the screen for almost an hour without paying any attention. She hadn’t bothered to get up and make the tea even though she h
eard the kettle signal that it was ready. Fatigued. Drained, both mentally and physically.
She wished she had a switch, or two switches, one to shut down and one for reset. She imagined that the reset button would be used frequently.
She lowered the volume on the television as she heard a sound from outside. It was a running engine. She wasn’t imagining it.
A quick glance at the clock.
2.15am. Not a time she usually heard a running engine. It sounded as if it was stationary and close by.
She turned off the light in the living room. Wedged her fingers in the blind, pulling the shutters apart slightly so she could get a glimpse of the street.
Her heart thumped against her chest as she saw a car parked on the opposite side of the road. It looked the same as the BMW she saw on Norman Hyde’s road earlier. She released the shutters and stepped back. She was suddenly short of breath.
Was it the same car? Had someone followed her home? She felt as if someone was watching her when she was there. Was someone watching her? Who? Norman was in custody. Dominic was locked up.
Her phone. It was on charge in the bedroom. She ran up the stairs and grabbed it, yanking the charging cable. She ran back to the window. Scrolled to the recently called numbers and selected Nick’s number instinctively.
Voicemail. It was past 2 in the morning, what did she expect?
“Nick!” She said to the answering machine. “Sorry… I think someone followed me home… I,” she moved the shutters and looked out.
Nothing. No car. No engine sounds. Just an empty street.
“I… I’m sorry. I think I just need to get some sleep. Sorry I called.” She hung up and plumped herself on the sofa, feeling stupid.
Get a grip! She told herself. Now she was seeing things as well as hearing things. She might be heading towards complete madness. This wasn’t healthy, and enough was enough. She marched to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen and stared at the small tub of sleeping pills. Her mind was clearly not going to let her sleep, so she had to intervene. She had to sleep. Force the shutdown.
Don’t think about it, just take the pills and say goodnight.
