Love & Hate Series Box Set 2 (Love & Hate #3-4)

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

  “Just fucking come in. I can hear you standing there,” Rogers barks at me from the room inside. I push the door and step inside. He is sitting at his laptop, typing furiously. I clear my throat and put the bottle of whisky on the table in front of him.

  “Brandon, listen, I want to apologise. I should have told you about my girlfriend, about changing my name. When I saw that girl in Braxton University I almost lost it. Since my girl died, I’ve had trouble communicating with people. I didn’t know how to grieve, how to feel anything. I was scared, so I buried that part of me away. The shrink cleared me, but she wanted me to keep coming back,” I say, waiting for him to look at me. When he finally does, astonishment fills his eyes. “But I was too fucking afraid.”

  “God, Micah, this is messed up. You and that damn case,” he points out, rubbing his eyes.

  “I want to fix this, to find the motherfucker who killed her.”

  “You know, when guys at the station were taking a piss on your age and rank, I kept quiet. I wanted to give you a chance. I don’t normally prejudge characters and you have proven to me countless times that you’re a good kid,” he explains, shaking his head. I pull up a chair and sit in front of him. “You fucking saved my life, and that means something.”

  “She was everything to me, and I was only seventeen at the time. She was the reason I pursued a career with the police,” I say.

  “Sign up for the sessions with Foster again. You crossed the line, and I should be reporting you to Clarke,” he says, slamming his palm on his desk.

  “Man, you do what you think is right. I fucked it up.”

  Rogers works his jaw for some time, then shakes his head.

  “We’re friends. Your records won’t be vetted again. You just have to pray that he won’t find out about this somehow.”

  The bastard knows that I respect him, but now I feel like crap, knowing that I hid such a significant detail from him. That case has been haunting me since I graduated, and now there is this identical murder.

  “Thank you. I appreciate what you’re doing,” I say.

  “Just don’t fuck it up, Micah. I’m not losing my job over you,” he reminds me.

  “I get it, Rogers. We need to question all the witnesses again, bring them in and verify the statements. Sanderson first, then Woo, and a couple of others. I have the list on my desk,” I say, knowing that I have to start being honest with him. Communication is the key and whatever I want doesn’t fucking matter anymore.

  Rogers mutters something under his breath and then tells me to get out of his office. We are fucking friends, but I lied to him, used his knowledge for my advantage, and that wasn’t cool. I use the other office and ask one of the officers in charge to call all the witnesses to the station.

  The evidence is spread on my desk, and I start looking at the images again. The problem with CCTV around the university is that there are many blind spots. Whoever got into her house knew that the camera just outside Wallace’s house wasn’t working that night.

  Tahlia will show up at the station in a couple of hours. She won’t be happy with all the questions that I’m going to ask her. I believe her, but I have to do my job.

  The rest of the day drags and I can’t seem to find a space for myself. I’m restless and fed up with looking at the reports and footage from the scene. Steph’s main murder files are in London, in the main headquarters. At some point I might need to travel up there to pull whatever I need.

  I call T’s mother at lunch to make sure that he managed to get home. Janine confirmed that he showed up in the morning, but she doesn’t believe that he can quit the gang and thinks he is stuck in that vicious circle forever. I know that she might be right, but I don’t want to believe it.

  At one there is a knock at my door.

  “Hey, Detective Arsehole, Rogers is asking for you. The first witness is here, the freaky girl,” Kerry says.

  “Thanks,” I reply, ignoring her insult. She wants me to lose control and I’m not planning to give her the satisfaction.

  She slams the door behind her and I take a few deep breaths. Tahlia is in the room next door and Rogers is waiting outside.

  “You’re still the leading detective, so I’ll let you start,” Rogers says as we both enter the room. I take a swift breath to control my instant arousal at the sight of her sitting on the chair in her sleeveless top. She likes torturing me, showing off her tattoos and the piercing.

  She looks at me with unexplained disappointment, then anger, and laces her hands together on the table.

  “Miss Sanderson, we need to go over that night when Miss Wallace was murdered in detail once again,” I say, skipping the introductions. I struggle with being indifferent around her.

  “We have been over this already. Do I really need to repeat myself, Detective?” she asks, emphasising my title, like she is trying to undermine it.

  “Yes, you really need to repeat yourself, Miss Sanderson,” Rogers insists, opening his notepad. She rolls her eyes and then looks back at me.

  “I went out around five to ride my bike. I normally work on Sundays, but the manager called and my shift was cancelled.”

  I check my previous notes. This whole riding the bike in the rain doesn’t quite work. Tahlia Sanderson was the only one in the house when Suranne was killed. She could have easily gotten into her room and slashed her throat. She needs to try harder to convince Rogers to believe in her innocence.

  “We can check that with your manager, so tell us again what happened after that, in detail, please,” I insist, aware of the sudden tension that stretches between us across the table. Rogers is oblivious to the fact that this girl makes me instantly hard, and I wish that he weren’t in the room right now.

  “I rode my bike around town. I already mention that I like the rain, I can even say that I get off on getting soaked.” She laughs, and Rogers shifts on the chair. I bet he is thinking that this girl is completely off her rocker. “Then I crashed with you and my bike was damaged. I couldn’t ride anymore, so I walked back to the campus. Suranne was in the kitchen cooking lunch for the next day. She seemed all right, maybe slightly too happy. We talked about banal stuff and then I went back to my room. She asked me to wake her the next morning by nine. I stayed up a bit longer, had some food and then went to bed. Do you want me to tell you if I put my pyjamas on or if I like sleeping naked?”

  That throws me off course a little, because my mind starts projecting her naked and, oh hell, my imagination goes wild instantly. The taste of her lips on mine drives me to the edge.

  “That won’t be necessary. Carry on, Miss Sanderson,” Rogers says. Somehow I’m losing my wittiness around her. The curve of her lips lift in a smile, and a mad gleam flickers in her eyes.

  “I went to bed pretty early and, if you must know, I didn’t hear anything, and I’m a light sleeper. In the morning I must have gotten up around seven, had a shower and ate porridge for breakfast. I decided to wake her up around eight. The door to her room was locked, and that surprised me, because Suranne never locked her room before. I knocked a few times and eventually managed to open it, then I saw her lying on the bed with her throat completely open,” she says, without any kind of emotion.

  Rogers is making a few more notes, probably giving me some time to think about the next question.

  “And in your previous statement you said that you opened the door with a hairpin, right?”

  “Yes, I was scared and worried. What would you do if you were me, Detective?” she asks, still emphasising my title. The pull is still fucking there and I can’t pretend that my heart hasn’t been aware of it. Maybe for the first time I’m feeling something for real. That really drives me absolutely insane and all I want is to rip her clothes off and lose myself inside her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Set back.

  “Stick to the question, Miss Sanderson,” I bite back. “Didn’t you think to call someone?”

  “No, I had a bad feeling and decided to use my initiat
ive. She was as good as dead.”

  “Have you done this before? Used something other than a key to get through a lock?”

  She doesn’t answer straight away, and we both know that she probably has broken into other places before.

  “Yes, a few times. I grew up in a tough neighbourhood. My mother used to lock the food cupboard when she was going out. I didn’t want my siblings to starve so I needed to find a way to feed them,” she adds, looking away, like she is embarrassed by her past.

  She will probably hate me for what I’m about to ask her, but so far we’re not getting anywhere. She is the only key witness, and her past might be significant.

  “Your records are pretty clean, Miss Sanderson. You were born in Stoke on Trent, right?” I press. She darts her eyes back at me. There is no warmth in them, just sour disappointment and growing pain.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever been in trouble with the police?” Rogers joins in.

  “Not that I know of,” she snaps, agitated. She is deliberately hiding the truth. She must have been in trouble before, so why is there nothing in her records?

  “Why did your mother lock the food cupboard from you? Was she cruel?”

  She starts chewing her bottom lip, avoiding looking at me. I’m aware that she must’ve gone through a lot of crap, but we need to know every detail. This would have been so much easier if she had been honest with me from the beginning.

  “I’m not answering anymore of your pointless questions. You either charge me or let me go. I know how the fuck the system works.”

  “We will keep you as long as it’s necessary, so I suggest you drop the attitude, Miss Sanderson,” I snap back, losing my temper, and then automatically regret it. This won’t get me anywhere.

  “Please excuse me for asking in the most impolite way, but I would really like to know—what the fuck is your problem with me?” she shouts, standing up all of a sudden. I thought we had been over this. I hate the fact that Rogers is here, witnessing this.

  I stand up, breathing hard, so our eyes are on the same level.

  “My problem, Miss Sanderson, is that I don’t fucking believe you. My colleague and I aren’t stupid, so I’m going to ask you straight. Did you have anything to do with Suranne’s death?”

  “Detective Thomson, may I have a private word with you outside?” Rogers cuts in, standing up. I take a last look at Tahlia. She drops her jaw, staring at me like she doesn’t believe that I asked her if she killed her housemate.

  Rogers practically drags me outside. I don’t even know why I snapped at her like that. I instantly regret losing my temper. It took me only five minutes to destroy the trust that I had built up, and accuse Tahlia of being the killer. She intentionally made me agitated, hiding stuff away, things that may prove her innocence.

  “Stay away from that room for now. I’ll finish questioning her,” Rogers barks as soon as we’re outside. He is pissed, scanning his notes.

  I run both my hands through my hair, pretty much aware that this whole interrogation couldn’t have gone any worse. “She knows something, I’m tell—”

  “Enough, Micah. That was out of line in there. We have no proof, no evidence to tie her to the murder. For some reason you’re just too obsessed with her. I’ll carry on from here,” he states. I’m about to argue with him, but then I change my mind. He is right. I’m making things worse. Tahlia doesn’t want me inside.

  “Whoa, Detective. I’m sensing trouble ahead. Maybe the stress of this job is slowly getting to you.” I hear the squeaky voice. Kerry is fanning herself with a stack of papers, looking at me like she wants to squash me with her heel. I forgot that her desk is just outside the boardroom. Great, so she heard Rogers.

  “Cut it out, Kerry. I wanted more and you turned me down. I’m the one that should be pissed off, but I let it go.”

  She presses her lips in a thin line and starts shuffling the paperwork on her desk.

  “Whatever, Detective. You ruined my plans and that’s not cool. You will go down sooner than you expect. Clarke isn’t particularly happy with how you’re handling this case. I’ll be glad to let him know that you and Rogers don’t get along,” she hisses, going back to her computer screen.

  I sigh but don’t say anymore. Kerry could make my life difficult and she is already working against me. I haven’t got the time to worry about her. It’s not that easy to let go of someone. My unhealthy relationships with women have pushed me backwards before.

  I go outside, hoping to cool down and get some fresh air. Rogers might take another few minutes with Tahlia, and I’m sure he will ask all the right questions.

  Maybe my manners aren’t polished, and maybe sometimes I don’t know how to talk to people, but I know that Tahlia is not telling us everything. She doesn’t get it that I can help her. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. It was a tactical error.

  I circle around the building for some time, until my heartbeat is steady enough. Deep down I know that I might be able to solve my issues if I somehow stop obsessing over this case. There is something about Tahlia that awakens moments of blissful longing for another human being, for something more than just sex. She allows me to believe that I could experience real feelings again.

  Finally after almost ten minutes, I see the pink hair and Tahlia emerges on the stairs a few seconds later. She spots me, tenses up and turns around to carry on in the other direction, but I beat her to it. Johnson and some other inspectors are talking by the entrance. I need to stay calm. Bringing attention to myself won’t help my case.

  “Tahlia, wait,” I say.

  “What the fuck do you want? Do you think this is a game?” she hisses, trying to keep her voice down, but she fails. Johnson is staring at us.

  “I had no choice. I was doing my job,” I tell her. “And you should have cut me some slack up there.”

  “Stay away from me. I want nothing to do with you. I haven’t fucking killed Suranne. She was a bitch, but she didn’t deserve to die,” she shouts right in my face, then turns around and starts walking away. This time I don’t go after her. I have already pushed my luck today.

  I stand on the bottom of the stairs, conflicted about my emotions and thoughts. I have another set of interviews to go through. Maybe my parents, Clark, Kerry and the rest of the station have been right all along. Maybe I’m not cut out for this job, trying to lock up hot girls just because they seem guilty.

  “Hey, Thomson, who was that girl that you just spoke to?”

  I turn to look at him, ready to tell him to stay out of my business, but that will only prove that I’m immature. “My witness—you know, the homicide in Braxton University?”

  “The student in the first floor flat?” he asks, curious, still looking in the direction that Tahlia went.

  “Yeah, the same one,” I reply, suddenly feeling tired of this case. He looks like he is thinking about something, then scratches his beard.

  “Well, I don’t want to mess with your head, but I could swear that I’ve seen her before in London about a year ago,” he adds unexpectedly.

  “That’s impossible. I’ve checked her records. She’s from up North. Stoke on Trent.”

  “In that case, I must have mistaken her with someone else. The girl that I arrested was a violent, nasty piece of work,” he says, like he is not convinced. This doesn’t sound good. Tahlia has that unique look about her.

  “Why do you think my witness could be the one you arrested?”

  “The piercing, and that wounded look on her face, like the whole world hates her.” Johnson laughs, patting me on the back. “But the other girl had blue, not pink hair. I was probably wrong.”

  He leaves me alone and goes back inside, muttering some words to himself.

  Maybe there is something to it; maybe that’s what she’s hiding? There are no records in her files that indicate she ever lived in London. That’s what bothers me the most: the fact that things about her past aren’t clear. That story about her mother hiding food.
I want to believe her.

  Instead of dwelling on something that I can’t solve, I get back to see Rogers. The Woo girl will be coming up shortly. She is the only other person that I’ve been looking forward to speaking to.

  Rogers stops typing notes on the computer.

  “What’s up with you and the pinky head?” he asks. I know that he isn’t asking about our argument.

  “Nothing. She is pissed off that I’m digging too deep. I don’t think she murdered Suranne, but she is hiding something,” I say, looking out the window.

  “Yeah, the whole story seems fishy, but you have no supporting evidence, Micah.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Yeah, but going back to my first question… I meant, what’s with the fireworks? I was getting turned on just watching you two,” he says, laughing.

  Rogers is not fucking stupid, but he doesn’t need to know that I have a crush on this girl.

  “I don’t know what you’re on about. She fucking hates my guts,” I say. My self-control is thin as paper when I’m around her.

  “Don’t play an idiot, Micah. You like that girl. That’s why you keep drilling her like that,” he chuckles. “You two are winding each other up, for entertainment.”

  “You don’t know shit, Rogers. Just because you think with your dick, that doesn’t mean that I do too,” I argue, looking through her answers, ignoring that smile that spreads across his face.

  “I might look like I don’t know what I’m talking about, mate, but there was something going on between you two. Don’t bullshit me. I know what I saw.”

  “Whatever, mate,” I mutter. “Go and get Woo. She should be here, waiting outside already.”

  Rogers leaves, laughing, and I exhale sharply. Why do I keep fucking things up so easily? My partner noticed that I’m hung up on this girl and now he won’t leave me alone.

  We continue to interview a few other students for the rest of the day and I’m a bit more focused now that Tahlia is gone. Woo starts crying when we tell her that we know that she lied to us about the fight between Sanderson and the victim. She mumbles though, saying that she might have misheard stuff. Rogers takes over and in the end we really don’t have much to go on. Two other students are so nervous that they don’t make much sense. At the end of the day I feel like we moved backward, not forward.