Authors: Richard Parry
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The room was not particularly large.
Val had expected something different, maybe with a mirror on one wall.
Instead, aside from the peeling paint, all it held was a crummy old table bolted to the middle of the floor.
Coffee rings stained the surface.
He could see a video camera high up in the corner behind the officer, red light watching them.
“Mr. Everard, do you know why you’re here?”
“I’m a little confused to be honest.”
Val traced a line through one of the coffee rings on the tabletop in front of him.
He looked up at the cop.
“What did I do wrong?”
The other man sighed.
He flipped open a folder in front of him.
“Let me see here.
We’ve got a broken jaw, concussion, spinal fracture…
Ok.
Broken nose, severe concussion.
This one might not wake up.
And a ruptured spleen.”
The folder flipped closed as the officer spun the file away from him on the table.
“Want to tell me what happened out there?”
“What?”
“I said, what happened?
In your own words.”
The officer looked at the folder that sat between them.
“Take your time.”
“You going to write this down?”
The officer blinked.
“What?”
“You don’t have a pen.
Or paper.”
Val waved his arm at the tabletop.
“There’s not even a, what the hell are they called, a dictaphone.”
“Do you want me to record this?”
Val blew his cheeks out.
“Actually, I don’t care.
I just want to know what’s the point.”
“The point?”
Val nodded.
“Sure.
I’ve seen the cop shows.
How are you going to use this as evidence if you don’t record my statement?”
The officer looked at him for a couple of heartbeats.
“You think we need to use something you say as evidence?”
“For fu…
Look.
I tried to help someone tonight.
I thought maybe I might get a thanks.
The last thing I figured on was ending up locked in a cell.”
“You’re not locked in a cell, Mr. Everard.”
The cop tapped the table between them.
“So you admit you were engaged in… something earlier this evening?”
Val looked at the officer without blinking.
The moment stretched between them.
The officer cleared his throat.
“Mr. Everard.
I think we’ve got off to a bad start.”
Val said nothing.
The officer reached for the file on the table between them.
“When we picked you and Miss..?”
“Kendrick.”
“Of course.
Miss Kendrick.
Well.
You were pretty insistent at the scene that you be able to go to the hospital with her.”
The officer taped the file with this forefinger, deliberate and slow.
“She’s a subject of some interest to us.”
Val leaned forward.
“Danny?
Why would you — she didn’t do anything!”
The officer leaned back in his chair, shrugging his shoulders.
“You know how it is.
If we can’t get what we need from you, well, we’ll get it where we can.
Her situation is…
Delicate.”
“‘Delicate?’”
Val looked at the other man like he was something he’d just found on the bottom of his shoe.
“She was out cold, going to the hospital.
You took her to the hospital, right?”
Another moment stretched between them, neither man speaking.
Val broke the silence first.
“I said, you took her to the hospital, right?”
The officer let out his breath in a sign.
“Mr. Everard.
It’s a bit more complicated than that —”
“How can it be complicated?
You had an unconscious woman who needed help!”
“As I said before, we need some information.
There are other ways of getting that, should you choose not to cooperate.”
The officer showed too many teeth in his smile.
“Now, shall we start again?”
“Just answer one thing.
Did you take her to the hospital?
Yes, or no?”
“Well.
Let’s just say that she’s safe for the moment.
And will continue to be so, if all goes well here.
Now, onto my first qu—”
Val swept the file off the table, papers scattering across the floor.
He slammed both hands on the table between them, getting out of his seat.
The officer scrambled back, his chair knocked to the ground behind him.
“What have you done to her!”
“Mr. Everard!”
The officer was trying to back away, scuttling like a crab.
His hand scrabbled at his holstered sidearm.
“You motherfuckers!”
Val grabbed the table, tearing it from the bolts mounting it to the floor, and flinging it into the wall.
“If you’ve hurt her, I’ll —”
The door slammed open.
Val and the officer both froze, looking at the doorway.
“What,” said the newcomer, “exactly is going on here?”
Her voice was mild, almost casual.
Val looked at the gun in the newcomer’s hand.
It wasn’t pointed at him.
His gaze was drawn by the gun’s angle, to the officer on the ground.
“Thank Christ.
I was just —”
the officer on the floor started to get up.
“Don’t.”
The newcomer waved her gun towards the ground.
“Just stay there.”
“What?
Look, I’m —”
The officer tried to get up again.
“Maybe I’m not being clear.
If you move again, I will shoot you.
How’s that?”
The newcomer’s eyes flicked to Val, then down to Val’s left hand.
“Mr. Everard?
You’re a hard man to track down.”
“I.”
Val tried again.
“What?”
“Detective Melissa Carlisle.
I’m assigned to a… messy murder investigation, in which you are a suspect.
That’s why you’re being held here.”
Carlisle’s gaze flicked to the officer on the ground.
“I’ve been working at this station for twelve years.
I like to pride myself on my good memory for faces.
Names too.
And you sir,”
and now she pointed the gun at the officer, “Do not work here.
Who the fuck are you and why are you here with my suspect?”
“Go to hell.”
“It’s like that is it?
Let’s play a different game.
I know who Mr. Everard is, because I’ve got a file on him.
I also have his left hand down on ice.”
Carlisle’s eyes flicked back to Val’s left hand again.
“Which isn’t his left hand, clearly, but I’d still like to talk to him.”
She reached inside her jacket with her free hand, and pulled out a leather wallet.
She flicked it open to an ID.
“Look.
Mine’s all official.
Government issue.
Says I’m a cop.
Let’s see yours.”
The officer on the ground sat silent.
“Mr. Everard.”
Carlisle’s eyes didn’t leave the man on the ground.
“Yeah?”
“I appreciate this evening’s been highly unusual for you, but I’m going to have to ask you for some help.
You see this guy’s jacket?”
Val looked at the chair on the ground, then the jacket lying near it.
“Sure.”
“Can you grab that and find me some ID?”
Val shuffled over and grabbed the jacket.
“There’s no ID.”
“What?”
“There’s no ID.
There’s…
Yeah.
Like three hundred dollars in here in cash, and nothing else.”
“No driver’s license?
What about a credit card?”
Val looked up.
“Look.
What’s going on?
Where’s Danny?”
For just a second, Carlisle’s attention left the officer on the floor as her gaze flicked to Val.
The man on the floor lunged up towards Carlisle, grabbing for the gun.
The two went tumbling into the corridor.
The shot rang out, hard in the confined space.
“Fuck.”
Carlisle pushed the man off her.
“I wanted to know who he was.”
Val stared at the two of them lying on the floor.
“I think I need a beer.”
Carlisle started to laugh.
“You and me both.
Hey —”
She stopped, looking at the man lying beside her.
“Outstanding.
He’s still breathing.”
She shook her gun, red splatters hitting the ground.
“Why do they always go for the gun?”
“Should we get him a pillow or something?”
“A pillow?”
“Or a blanket.
You know.
You just shot the guy.”
“Sure.
Look, in about ten seconds this place will be crawling with cops.
One of the guys will grab him a blanket.
Probably a nice cup of coffee and a danish.
Don’t worry about it.”
Despite her words, Carlisle began moving the man’s arms and legs.
She looked up at Val.
“Recovery position.
That make you happier?”
“I guess.
Detective —”
Carlisle got to her feet.
“Just call me Carlisle.”
“Carlisle, am I under arrest?
I don’t know what’s going on, and my… my girlfriend, I don’t know where she is.”
Carlisle sighed.
“Yeah.
About that —”
The lights went out.
A half second later, the keening of a fire alarm started from somewhere in the building.
Red emergency lighting flickered into life.
Val and Carlisle eyed each other.
Val tried first.
“I guess this isn’t a usual day for you either.”
“You could say that.
Where on God’s green Earth is Vince?”
“Who’s Vince?”
“My partner.
Actually, it doesn’t matter.
Where’s everyone else?”
“I’ve been in this room since I got here.
I only saw this asshole.”
Val nudged the man on the ground with his foot.
“I didn’t know you cops had such strong corporate politics.”
Carlisle laughed.
“You know Val, you’re ok.
This guy here’s not one of us.”
“What?”
“He’s not a cop.”
“He’s not a…
Well, what’s he doing here then?”
“Beats me.
Look, can we cover this later?
I’d like to know how someone got into the station and started in on my…”
She looked at Val.
“My witness.”
“I’m a witness?”
“Something like that.
My gut tells me you’re not a murderer.”
Carlisle stepped a little closer to Val, looking him in the face.
“Heck if I know what you are though.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
The sprinklers burst into life, drenching them.
The smell of stale water filled the air.
Val reached up slowly, wiping his face.
“This is turning into a pretty shitty day.”
Carlisle stared at the water running off the barrel of her gun.
“Something’s really, really wrong.
Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
Carlisle looked at him over his shoulder as she stepped towards the door.
“Anywhere but here.
Maybe we’ll grab Vince, and then get you that beer.”
A muffled popping sound filled the air.
Val cocked his head to one side.
“What’s that?”
Carlisle broke into a run through the door, rebounding off the wall outside and dashing down the corridor.
Val poked his head after her.
“Wait!
What’s that noise?”
Carlisle kept running for the door at the end of the corridor.
“Come on!”
She kicked the door open with her foot.
Her gun was held in both hands, pointing into the stairwell beyond.
“It’s clear.
Val.
Let’s go!”