by Bo Brennan
Colt looked at his watch, cracked his knuckles again and stood up.
“Sit down, Sir,” Statler said, visibly tensing.
“Hold that thought,” Colt said, opening the door and looking around at the officers assembled outside. “Anybody in here a Federation Rep?” he shouted.
A middle aged man with glasses and a pot belly stood up in the far corner of the room. “I am, Sir,” he called. “DS Simon Atkins.”
“Well DS Atkins, it's time to earn your subs.” Colt beckoned him into the office. “Take a pew,” he said, remaining standing himself while Statler and Waldorf sat deadpan.
Colt planted his hands on the desk and leant towards them, sharing his glare between both men’s eyes as they shrank back in their seats. “Earlier today I promised Dr Lacey Fox's parents that I will catch this man,” he said, “and I do not break promises. Now, I have someone in custody that I need to interview and the clock is ticking, so if you've got anything else to say – say it to him.”
DS Simon Atkins puffed out his chest and fixed Statler and Waldorf with a challenging stare. Colt patted him on the shoulder as he left the room.
They looked surprised to see him when he came into the viewing area of the interview room exactly fifteen minutes behind them. Colt shrugged when Firman shook his head.
Veronica took a step back and positioned herself in a chair in the corner, making it clear she didn’t really approve of what was about to happen, even though she’d agreed to it. Tom and Lee stood looking miffed in the other corner, and India stood in her familiar battle stance – arms crossed, feet firmly grounded, staring straight through the glass. All steel defence shutters were up and bolted securely in place. Jaw set hard, face devoid of any emotion, steely blue eyes filled with defiant determination.
“Ready?” Colt said, as calmly as he could muster.
India didn't even acknowledge him; she bowled straight in and pulled out a chair. Colt took his seat, naturally expecting her to do the same . . . but she didn’t. She leant over the table and grabbed Zane by his hooded sweatshirt, wrenching him out of his seat to bring them nose to nose. For the very first time in his career AJ Colt found himself in the unexpected position of playing good cop to India Kane's bad cop. Unfurling her fingers from the man he personally wanted to batter, and pressing her into her seat, wasn't a task he performed comfortably.
“Right you little freak,” she spat. “We've had people following you, following me, and that’s pissed me right off. So you'd better start talking before I get seriously angry.”
Colt studied his face. Guessed he was about twenty years old and currently terrified. He glanced down under the table and was impressed to see he hadn't pissed his pants yet. If the kid thought they'd stood outside that door and strategically planned this, he was way off the mark. India Kane was not playing.
“I'm here, all ears,” she growled at him. “Come on then, let’s hear it.”
For the first time since she'd entered the room, Zane took his petrified eyes off of her face to briefly glance sideways at Colt. “In private,” he said.
“Leave us, please,” India said, her eyes not deviating from her targets once. “Zane is going to tell me why I'm so fucking interesting he's facing stalking charges, god only knows how many counts of aggravated rape and burglary; kidnapping, arson and a couple of counts of murder. Isn't that right, Zane?”
Colt had no intention of leaving that room without India, but the decision was taken out of his hands when the door clicked open and Firman beckoned him out. Colt clenched his jaw and glared at the glass. The people on the other side had clearly decided she would be safe in there with just the uniform propped against the wall as protection. Colt wasn’t so sure he could say the same about Zane.
On the other side, the room was silent. Veronica was no longer sitting in the corner, and Colt wondered at which precise moment she'd leapt from her seat and suckered herself to the glass. He turned up the volume, didn't want to miss a heartbeat or a breath, and stood directly in front of the door. If the wanker so much as flinched he'd be in there and on him in a second.
“She was right about you,” Zane sneered. “You are evil.”
“Who was right?'
“It’s all in here,” he said, tapping his head. “I know everything.”
Great. Any second now Colt anticipated him saying God told him to do it, or the voices in his head. India really needed to take this mate of hers in hand at some point, how the hell could she be sleeping with this guy and not have any inkling he was a total nut job? Colt had seen it the second he’d clapped eyes on him, she bloody hadn't, but then she hadn't really paid him any attention. People only seemed to appear on her radar when they were interfering in her life. Zane was registering good and proper on her radar now. He had her full and undivided attention.
“Why are you following me?”
“I'm glad we've finally met properly,” he said. “All makes sense now.”
“Only in your twisted little mind, Zane,” India said. “Out here in the real world, all I’m hearing coming out of your mouth is a shit load of crazy bollox.”
“Funny that. Everyone, even Clare, thinks it's the other way round. She says you're wired wrong in the head, India. And now we’ve had a chance to actually speak, I'm inclined to agree.”
“Clare wouldn't say that.”
“Maybe I misheard.” Zane smiled. “Her mouth was pretty full at the time. Big cocks run in the family. You know, like father like son.”
“Good for you,” India said. “That will make you very popular in prison, Zane.”
“But then you knew that already didn't you, India?” he said, inclining his head to one side and smiling at her. “A broken jaw didn't stop you putting daddy's big old cock in your mouth, did it?”
Colt's blood ran cold. He shuddered as goose bumps prickled his flesh. On the other side of the glass, India remained perfectly calm and poised. He saw the small muscle in her jaw twitch, but still she kept her eyes on him as he smiled at her.
“We need to get her out of there,” Firman said.
Colt stood his ground, and everybody held their breath.
“What do you want?” India said coldly.
All heads turned to the exterior door when the two man unit finally appeared waving Zane's personnel file from Olivio’s. They craned their necks to get a look at the guy on the other side of the glass; Dwyer pushed them out of the room and locked the door. There were already way too many people in there, they were all feeling the claustrophobia as beads of sweat began forming on every brow. Colt read the name on the file, and shoved it under Firman's nose.
“I want her out of there, right now,” Firman growled.
Colt immediately swung the door open and strode across the room throwing the folder down on the table in front of her. “His name’s not Zane, it's Liam. Liam Kane.”
Colt stared at her waiting for a response. She sat completely motionless, intently studying Liam’s face, digesting, allowing the pieces to fall into place. For a moment Colt was sure she wasn't breathing, almost convinced she’d slipped into a catatonic state. He swallowed hard waiting for her to say something, anything. Len was expecting him to pull her out, wanted her out right now, Colt was about to do just that when she finally opened her mouth.
“So they fucked you up too then.” Her voice was flat, almost resigned. “I guess I wasn't quite so special after all.”
“You owe her,” Liam said. “You ruined her life.”
“Really,” India said dully.
“She's needs you.”
“What could she possibly need from me after all these years?”
“A kidney,” he said.
All that came from India in response was a sharp rush of air as her lungs emptied.
Colt, still leaning on the desk, briefly turned his head towards the two way mirror – imagined them all standing in silence on the other side just as confused as him. He didn't need to know what was going on here to know her soul
was hurting, he could tell from her eyes that the real India Kane had already left the room.
“We're done here,” she said mechanically. “He's not who we thought.”
She rose from her seat as though somebody else was operating her limbs and strode towards the door. Liam sprang from his seat like a Jack in a box after her. He was fast but not fast enough to bypass Colt blocking his path. It made no difference to him who was standing outside that door, he was willing Liam to get physical and give him a reason to kick the shit out of him.
“She's dying,” Liam screamed, his view obscured by Colt standing in between them.
For a few seconds India froze at the door with her back to them. When she turned, her face was hard and cold. “Good. I hope it's long and painful,” she said.
“I know what you did,” he screamed. “I won’t let you kill her too, you murdering fucking whore.”
India calmly closed the door behind her and stepped into the silence of the observation room. All eyes focused their gaze on her. In the interview room, it wasn't clear if the uniform was wrestling Colt off of Liam, or Liam off of Colt.
“He's not our man,” she said.
“Then who the hell is he?” Dwyer asked.
“My brother,” she said flatly.
Firman cleared his throat. “Professional Standards want a word, kid,” he said, nervously patting her arm. “They're waiting in my office for you.”
India Kane was in no mood for discussion, or questions that demanded answers. She glanced at the clock, 7.36 pm, she felt drained. “That’s a shame,” she said, “because I'm going home.”
Chapter 60
Colt pulled onto the hard standing alongside the squad car, under no illusions his arrival at this time of night would get the uniforms’ tongues wagging. But he wanted, needed, to talk.
Len had formally charged her brother under the Protection from Harassment Act 1997 less than an hour ago, while Colt watched from the observation room. His relief at taking one nutter off the street marred by frustration that the most dangerous nutter of all was still at large.
India opened the door, bare foot, wearing a flowing ankle length purple gypsy skirt and a simple white vest top, her damp hair hung loose around her shoulders and back. As he passed from the cold December evening air into the warmth of her home, the sweet aroma of vanilla shampoo tormented his senses. He wasn't surprised she'd showered as soon as she got home; he wished he'd had the time to scrub the presence of the creepy bastard from his skin too.
“I've got a beer in the fridge if you want one.”
“I’d best stick to coffee,” he said, slumping onto her sofa and tossing his car keys and phone on the coffee table. “I'm driving, besides I need all the caffeine I can get right now.”
He leant back into the cushions and dragged his hands down his face as she poured from the full percolator jug. From the looks of things she wasn't planning on sleeping tonight.
Their hands touched briefly as she handed him his mug, then sat down on the opposing sofa. Colt sighed. He’d shared her bed last night and she was awkward in his company again. Be careful his mind warned, forcing him to push away the vivid image of her wearing just his shirt. Right now, this morning seemed a lifetime ago.
“Is it true what he said,” Colt murmured, sipping at his coffee. “Was it your dad who broke your jaw?”
“No.”
He felt a small wave of relief wash over him. Gray had told him she was beaten, the scars on her back came from her father’s belt. But he couldn't bear the thought that any of the sick twisted sexual shit that came out of Liam's mouth during interview was true.
“How did you break it?”
“My mother did it when I told her he was screwing me,” she said flatly, and his heart hit the floor, landing alongside his slack jaw.
Rendered incapable of speech, all Colt could do was stare at her. Felt his old friend anger bubbling up inside him. Starting in his toes, rage began to course its way through his veins until he felt it rushing through his ears.
“Don't look at me like that,” she said, bringing her knees up to her chest, hiding from him.
Colt let out a long and prolonged breath. Realised he was probably looking at her as though he was about to kill her. He wanted to kill all right, but not her. He hung his head and concentrated on his breathing, it felt like a ten ton sumo was sitting on his chest.
“Talk to me India, I need to understand,” he finally said.
“There's nothing to understand. I don't remember much.”
He watched her hugging her knees tight to her body, unable to look at him, and placed his mug on the table between them. Stepping over it, he took the seat beside her. “Then tell me what you do remember. Please. I need to know.”
“She did it on my 8th birthday, right after he gave me my birthday present and wrecked my best dress.” She laughed. “I don’t remember much, my head would take me someplace else, someplace nice. While he was doing it – I’d be swimming with the fishes.”
She gave a nervous little chuckle again.
Colt couldn’t understand why she was laughing and wanted to ask, but his throat was so constricted he could hardly breathe let alone string a coherent sentence together. There was nothing remotely funny about this. He clenched his teeth and she forcefully tugged her hand from his, rubbing it with her other, making him aware he had been squeezing it too hard. He glanced down and saw the white knuckles of the clenched fist at his side, urged himself to stay calm. “Where is he now, India?” he said through gritted teeth.
“Dead,” she said coldly, staring at the wall.
Colt rolled his head as the shiver that traced his spine gripped the back of his skull, felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle to attention. He'd spent hours listening to the crazy ramblings of her brother before he was charged, and then detained under the Mental Health Act and carted off to the loony bin. One of the more outlandish claims he'd made was that the family had been forced to flee for their lives when she murdered their father.
“I read his obituary in the paper when I was at police training college,” she said. “It should've been the happiest day of my life, but I didn't feel a thing.”
Colt sighed with relief. Thank fuck for that. The wacko’s claim that she’d stabbed him to death in a frenzied knife attack at eleven years old could easily be disproven.
“Love hurts,” she said without any hint of emotion.
“That’s not love, India.” His mouth was so dry he could barely say the words. He picked up his mug and gulped from it. “I would never hurt you, when I told you I . . .” He choked, unable to repeat the words again as his phone rang.
Colt frowned and looked at his watch. 12.05 am. Shit. ‘Kelly – Nag’s Head’ flashed on the screen in clear view of India's inquisitive eyes. He snatched up the phone, and stood as he answered the call. “Hi,” he said, walking into the kitchen and placing his mug in the sink. “I'm sorry, I'm running a little late,” he added coyly. “Pizza is good. I'll be with you as soon as I can.”
He turned to meet her pained penetrating stare as she stood behind him in the kitchen. “India, it’s not what you think.”
“You have no idea what I think,” she said.
“I promised someone I’d be somewhere at midnight.” Right now he could throttle Gray. He could throttle himself for making a pact with the devil. Gray's inside information had come at a cost, and it was way more than the bar bill.
“Whatever,” she said.
Fuck, fuck fuck. “I'll only be a couple of hours, I can come back when I'm done if you like,” he said. When I'm done? he thought. Why the hell did I just say that? What the fuck must be going through her mind right now?
India shook her head and walked him to the door. He leant in to kiss her as he stepped onto the deck and she turned her face away.
“Goodnight, Sir,” she said and slammed the door in his face.
Colt lurched down the steps and steadied himself against his car, gulpin
g in lungful’s of the cold December air. His hands shook so violently he couldn’t grasp the handle, felt revulsion blistering his skin. He stared at the light on her porch until it blurred; he couldn’t go back in there, not now. Biting his lip he started the engine and wheel spun away into the night with tears of fury stinging his eyes, and hatred burning his body.
Chapter 61
Wednesday 22nd December
AJ Colt's legs hurt. Every time he took a step the muscles from the heels of his feet screamed all the way up to the cheeks of his arse.
Last night had proven energetic. This morning muscles he didn’t even know existed hurt, and he worked out a lot, took great pride in keeping himself in shape. How the hell India did it week in, week out god only knew, but he’d felt the toned results himself.
He pushed away from the table, and slowly clambered to his feet. He was starving. There was no way he could face two flights of stairs to the canteen, he’d be walking like he’d shit himself by the time he knocked off.
He leant against the incident room door and glanced around the office. India had her head down preparing for the imminent meeting. She was giving him the cold shouldered silent treatment today. He wasn’t bothered, she’d learn that soon enough.
“Who’s up for a working lunch?” he called out.
Amongst the positive murmurs and mumbles that came back an agreement was reached, their impending meeting would double up as dinner.
“I’m paying, but someone else can go and get it,” Colt said, pulling out his wallet. “Don’t forget to let Veronica, Vicky and Sly know.”
“I’ll go,” India said without looking up.
Colt froze, frowning in the doorway. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Best I do it,” Lee said, rising from his seat. “No bloke’s gonna jump me.”
