Chapter Two
The sound of the siren outside the patrol car was competing with the metallic noise of the working parts on the police issue Glock 17 pistol being racked back and forth, as Gillian negotiated the car through another red light.
"Will you leave that thing alone Steve, it’s loaded, you will shoot yourself in the foot", she said.
"Shots fired Gillian, you heard the call, I'm just being cautious", Steve replied
"You're supposed to be keeping an eye out for that blue Subaru Steve; I've got enough on my plate while I concentrate on getting us there safely".
"Point taken Gill", Steve said, as he started scanning the vehicles flashing by in the darkness.
There had been multiple calls about an armed robbery at a corner store in the north of the city; the first was from the shop owner informing them of three men holding his daughter at gunpoint, followed by numerous calls from neighbours calling about hearing gunshots. One of them had mentioned seeing a blue Subaru driving away from the scene at speed. All available units were responding.
It had taken Gillian Holler and Steve Kirkland a few minutes to retrieve their firearms from the locked box in the boot of the patrol car and a minute more to put on the ballistic body armour but they were still going to be first on the scene.
"It's just up here", Steve said, pointing to the well lit building sitting in the darkness that surrounded it. "We'll just go straight in Gill, stay right behind me and clear the area to the left, I will scan ahead and to the right, you got that".
Gillian nodded in the darkness of the car’s interior; she was running through what Steve had said in her head. Steve was the junior partner, but he had been a member of the Armed Offender Squad for a good few years and had done all the training so she was happy to defer to his judgement on this occasion. She hated firearms but she was not afraid to use one if necessary.
"Gill did you hear me?”
"Yeah, sorry Steve, I thought I had replied". She made a quick scan of the surrounding houses as they neared the scene; she tried to make a mental note of the pinpricks of light in the darkness indicating which of them had woken up to the sound of gunfire, as they would make up the first round of enquiries, but the whole thing was moving too fast.
"Right then, let’s do this". Steve said with conviction.
The adrenalin in her system increased tenfold as she pulled the car to a stop a short distance up the road. Steve was immediately out of the car and moving towards the store but using the side of the building for cover. Gillian fell into step behind him; her heart was beating against her tight fitting ballistic vest. Steve had holstered his Glock and was holding his Bushmaster semi automatic rifle in the ready position. He had moved up to the door and stood just to the side, he looked at Gillian and held three fingers in the air. Then, just like in the movies, he started a silent count before turning and going through the door.
"Armed Police! Armed Police! Don’t move!” he yelled, as he scanned back and forth, his finger sitting just outside the trigger guard, ready for any hostile confrontation.
Gillian followed Steve inside, she stayed right on his shoulder and scanned left as she had been told, it was clear. Bringing her head around in line with her weapon, the scene she saw before her was awful. The offenders had clearly retreated leaving behind the bloodied casualties as proof of their venture. A young Asian girl was on her knees in a pool of blood that clearly belonged to the older male lying face down on the floor. She was looking at them with uncomprehending eyes, questions of inhumanity left unsaid.
"Make sure an ambulance has been called, Steve", Gillian said, regaining control and holstering her pistol. She worked better when she was on autopilot and when she was in charge of the situation. Although she had been in the job for almost twenty years, she had never sought promotion. She preferred to work alongside her colleagues on an equal basis, but that did not stop her taking charge when the situation needed it.
Crouching down beside the girl, she felt for a pulse on the male. It was very weak, but it was still there. "Is this your father?” she said to the girl. The girl just nodded. "Are you hurt?” The girl shook her head. Gillian looked around for something to help stem the flow of blood. She saw a black ski mask lying close by, it was synthetic and not woollen. Not even bothered about its evidential value she grabbed it and held it over the wound on the old man’s back applying as much pressure as she could, the blood seeped from under it but seemed to stem the worst of the flow. "Steve come and hold onto this until the ambulance arrives will you".
Steve slung his rifle onto his back and crouched down, the ballistic vest making it difficult to stay upright in the squatting position. He put his hands onto the makeshift dressing and pressed. "I'll be good here Gill, you can take the girl somewhere more suitable".
They could hear the sound of more sirens approaching on the night air. It was hard to distinguish the difference between the sirens but Gillian hoped that one of them was the ambulance. Looking at the state of the male, and the amount of blood pooling around his prone body, he would not have long.
Gillian stood up and put a hand on the girls shoulder, "Stand up and come over here with me, I need to ask you some questions".
She had dealt with many victims in the past and knew that niceties were no good when someone had suffered a trauma. They needed a firm hand and clear direction; otherwise, you could end up going around in circles as they broke down into various states of dark emotions.
The girl did what Gillian asked and they both moved over to the shop counter near the door. The girl looked at the open and empty cash drawer, then back at Gillian. Her eyes were deep pools of emotion. Gillian thought she could detect a lot of anger behind the tears as if she was fighting to suppress it. "What's happened?” Gillian said. The first question was designed to get straight to the facts, there was no point wasting time on assumptions when the actual incident was completely different from what you were lead to believe from panicked phone calls.
The girl looked Gillian in the eyes she had made a decision. She was not going to be a victim.
"They robbed us, the pathetic cowards". There was no trace of an accent in her speech. "There were three of them, the big one had a gun, and he was the one doing the talking". The girl looked down at the man on the floor as she spoke. "They had masks on, it was just like you would expect. Then the big one, he...” she paused and closed her eyes, a slight catch of breath coming from her throat, "He got his penis out, he was going to rape me, just because I wouldn't put my hands it the air…” she took another deep breath “I could smell his breath, it was vile". The determination had returned to her voice, she opened her eyes and looked at Gillian. "Dad must have heard what was going on; he came out with his bat and hit the big one on the head. He sort of... fell into me, his face was so close, I wanted to bite it, but he still had the mask on. That's when the other one shot my dad in the back". The girl started crying, "He was going to shoot him again but the gun didn't go off".
"You're doing well", Gillian encouraged, "Is that when they left?”
"Two of them ran out, the big one and the one with the gun, the other one just stood there, he looked like he was crying, he tried to tell me it was my fault". She stifled a sob. "I was looking after dad, then after a while he turned his back and took his mask off. He went to leave the shop and I couldn't see what he did after that, you two were here only a couple of minutes to late".
"Steve driving to slow was he?" The voice behind them made Gillian turn around. "All those muscles and he still has no strength in the foot used on the accelerator". Sergeant Gary Stone stood there grinning, dressed in his customary black jumpsuit and bristling with weapons. "You won't have any need for us here I take it", he added.
Gillian looked behind him and saw three other black clad members of the Armed Offender Squad standing around Steve and offering him encouragement.
"I'll let you know if we come up with any leads once I finish talking to that poor man's dau
ghter here", she said, not bothering to hide the inflection in her voice. Gary Stone could be insensitive sometimes.
"Right you are Gill", he said, "Let's get out there and do a quick area search boys, you never know they may be hiding in the bushes". Gary gave Gillian a smile before leaving the store followed by his merry men.
The ambulance had arrived while Gillian was distracted and were now tending to the male on the floor. They looked so calm and professional as they did their thing. They did not seem to be too worried about his condition, but then it was their job to portray calm in a chaos. Steve, released of his wound duties by the medics, had stood up and was now standing next to Gillian.
"I'll give the duty Detective a call", he said, "I think it’s time the big boys came out to play".
It was twenty minutes before Grant Wylie made it to the scene; the phone call had woken him from sleep and dragged him from his warm bed next to his equally warm wife. He had been a Detective for the past eight years and the excitement of being 'On call' had completely worn off, big jobs or not. He had hoped it would be just a matter of dishing out some advice to the attending officers tonight. He could then leave them to secure the scene until morning when he would be back at work. All thoughts of returning to his bed and his unusually accommodating wife went from his head as soon as he entered the shop.
"Shit Gill, what's happened here…?” Grant took in the scene before him, the medics had removed the patient to hospital but his life’s legacy was pooling on the floor in a sticky mess, made worse by the attending ambulance officers who had smeared the blood with their boots all around the immediate area.
So much for a sterile scene, he thought.
"Its touch and go with the male who was shot Grant, he's been taken to Dunedin Hospital". Gillian followed Grant's gaze towards the mess. "That's all his blood, so you sort of get the picture".
"It looks like I will have to wake some more people up Gill; we could be looking at a murder enquiry if he pops his clogs". Grant's mind was clicking into gear sluggishly; the adrenalin had started to kick in, banishing the remnants of sleep. "What's been done so far?”
Gillian gave Grant a quick outline of what she knew. "The girl's gone to hospital with her father, Steve has gone with them just in case the man regains consciousness and says something. I've already got a quick statement from the girl, she can't add a lot in relation to descriptions they were wearing masks."
"That's a start anyway Gill; it’s always a pleasure to attend a scene where the attending officers have some sort of clue how to do their job". He smiled at Gillian who took the compliment in her usual self-depreciating manner. There was a lot to think about after the initial excitement had worn off. It was one thing to save a life but when it came to punishing those responsible everything had to be meticulously gone over, every angle had to be covered. Any small crack in the investigation could turn into a landslide inside a courtroom, undermined by a clever defence lawyer blinded from his client’s guilt by the promise of a big pay cheque or a moment of infamy. Grant had learnt the hard way to do things properly right from the start.
"I thought you were acting Senior Sergeant Gill? That’s mostly an office job, how is it that you were here first?”
"The section is short staffed Grant, plus I don't really do offices anyway so I teamed up with Steve..., besides someone has to keep him in check".
"I hear you....” Grant said, retrieving his cell phone from his pocket.
The phone was ringing in his ear, Mike Bridger was not due back to work until tomorrow after being on leave but Grant knew the recently promoted Detective Sergeant would not shy away from this; he would want to be involved right from the start. He just hoped he would find him sober enough to attend the scene.
"Mike Bridger". The voice sounded sober, a good start.
"Mike, its Grant, we have a situation at work I thought you would want to know about".
Grant gave Bridger the quick version while he listened to him getting dressed at the other end of the phone. He could hear the sound of laboured breathing and the occasional expletive as the phone dropped onto the floor on more than one occasion requiring Grant to repeat what he was saying.
"I'll be there in ten minutes," Bridger said "Call the team and have them meet us at the scene". He cut the connection.
Grant put away his phone and looked at Gillian. "Mike's on his way, he wants a full turnout on this, it could be a long night".
"It's not like we haven't had one of those before", Gillian replied with a half smile. "How is Mike? I haven't seen him since the Marion Watson abduction".
"He's been on leave; I think it was more directed rather than by choice, something between Matthews and him. He was in a pretty dark place; I think things just got on top of him".
“Well, let’s hope he has had a good break then and is ready to get stuck in. I have a feeling this one is going to test us.”
He sat in the darkness of the car looking over at the store; the area was busy and alive, with Police Emergency tape strung up like confetti and flashing lights blinking blue and red. He could see a number of uniformed officers standing around looking busy but not really doing anything. 'Dimmer' was playing quietly on the car stereo, 'Dark Night of Yourself'. Bridger loved his music, it evoked all sorts of emotions in him, it cheered him up when he needed it, and it brought him back to reality when he started to get a bit ‘mixed up’ with stress. Something he had been experiencing a lot of in the last few weeks. He thought of a quote he had read recently ‘Without music, life would be a mistake’. It was something that rang true in his mind.
Recently a psychotic man had abducted a girl in her twenties. He had used her in a macabre piece of drama to exact out revenge on his parents for past abuse. Bridger had been instrumental in recovering her just in time, but that investigation had taken its toll in him. He knew he had been using alcohol as a crutch during that time to get through his day-to-day existence, but it had taken a downward spiral. He knew that now, but he had hit rock bottom before he had realised the extent. He had been on leave ever since.
A police dog handler came jogging down the road from out of the darkness, red with exertion. His large hairy dog was still pulling excitedly on the lead, happy to be involved. The busy scene had a lot going on, red and blue lights were still flashing on a few of the patrol cars, there was a gaggle of people standing further down the road being shepherded by an harassed looking junior officer. Flashes of brighter light were visible inside the doorway like a disco-tech, no doubt the Police Photographer doing his thing, recording everything in minute high definition detail, the frailty of humanity seen through the eyes of a lens. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
Time to get back on the horse, he thought.
He opened the car door, then stepped out into the cool night air and walked purposefully towards the controlled chaos. Entering the store, he found Grant and Gillian off to one side; they were talking in hushed tones as the photographer snapped away at a large pool of blood on the floor. Grant must have said something funny as Gillian suddenly let out a short but loud belly laugh. They both looked happy in the circumstances, not really a care in the world. Life goes on in the busy world of policing, a new day, a new crime, a new way for humanity to surprise him.
He had been off work now for a number of weeks, more than he cared to remember, each long day bringing a new battle with his emotions, with his loneliness, and with his addictions. He was glad he was back at work, something else to worry him and take his mind of his life. He was ready.
"Hi Mike," Grant said, looking up. "Good to have you back."
"I see you lot have let things slide a bit", he said, looking at the pool of blood on the floor, "This wouldn't have happened on my watch", he added, trying for a bit of levity.
Bridger felt the familiar adrenalin surge as it started to make its way through his bloodstream, banishing any lethargic feelings he may have harboured prior to receiving the call from Grant. He may have lost his
way a bit in the last few months, but this was what he did best. He loved the challenge of making sense out of chaos, finding the cancer in the midst of society. No matter what happened in his life, he always had this to escape to. It was an oddly comforting thought though, seeing as it took someone else's misery to enable him to feel this way.
"What's been done so far Grant? Gill?” he looked at both of them in turn.
Grant let Gillian give Bridger a briefing on what had occurred prior to his arrival then added his own little bit. "Just really the basics Mike, it’s pretty fluid at the moment. The dog tracked a short distance down the road but lost the scent. It is most likely that they got into a car at that point. Witnesses have said they saw a blue Subaru leaving at speed." Grant shrugged his shoulders. "We were just about to have a quick look at the CCTV", he added, indicating the camera above their heads.
"Right then, let’s do that", Bridger said. It was a good a start as any.
The black and white images were flickering in front of their eyes, the time lapse making it hard to see clearly. The scene started with a girl on her own, standing behind the counter. Flicker, there were now three people wearing black masks in the store with her, one of them was slightly out of shot; one had a shotgun in his hands. Flicker, the girl had backed up against the wall, the larger person was running the barrel of the shotgun down her front. One person was filling a bag with items from the shelf. Flicker, a fourth person had entered the scene with a baseball bat he appeared to be an older male, the person with the bag now had the shotgun. Flicker, the larger person was on the floor, the person with the gun shot the man with the bat in the back. Flicker, the man with the bat was lying face down on the floor; the girl was crouching next to him. There was only one other person in the shot but slightly out of view. Flicker, that person was gone. The only two left were the victims. Two and a half minutes of action reduced to 45 seconds of footage, not ideal.
"The footage only shows the view point of that camera", Grant said, pointing to the camera above them. "I'm guessing when it flickers; it should show footage from that camera above the counter. It's obviously not working so we lose some of the action".
"Well it's still good evidence, bag it and we will get the Techs to take a look, see if they can get anything more", Bridger said.
"That's pretty cold and calculating don't you think", Gillian said, "He didn't even blink, not even a warning before shooting that man in the back. He was just protecting his daughter and his livelihood".
Bridger looked at Gillian, "In some ways the actions of the victim actually motivated the outcome", he said, "The man used force which left the aggressor no choice but to retaliate with force".
Gillian and Grant both looked at Bridger disbelievingly.
"Everyone is motivated by different things", he continued, "It's not as simple as good versus evil, there are any number of reasons for someone to be on either side of that coin. I think it was Friedrich Nietzsche who said; 'The good man is not the opposite of the evil man, rather he is just a different expression of the same basic impulses that find more direct expression in the evil man'".
"You don't really believe that do you Mike?" Gillian said in disbelief, "I can see exactly where this poor man was coming from, and he is nothing like those animals on the other side of the gun".
"That means absolutely nothing to me", Grant said, looking at Bridger with a sober expression, "But it sounds pretty deep for you".
"I'm not sure I've actually figured out exactly what it means yet either, but I've had a lot of time to sit and read lately," Bridger said, shrugging his shoulders. He was wondering himself why he thought to use that little piece of information.
The radio on Gillian's belt crackled into life. ‘Any unit available to attend Unity Park in Mornington, possible stolen Subaru abandoned in the car park’. The Police Dispatcher's voice was tinny through the small speaker.
Bridger's ears prickled, it was too much of a coincidence. "I'll take that." He motioned to Gillian to respond to the radio call. "Grant you stay here with Gill and finish the scene. Ring Becky back and get her down to the hospital to take over from Steve. I'll get the other's to meet me at the park". Grant was a good operator and had the scene under control and Detective Becky Wright was more than capable of handling the hospital side of things on her own. Bridger left the shop and jogged over to his car, cell phone to his ear. It could not be this easy.
Once he left the North East Valley the southbound one way system swept Bridger through the central city quickly. There was not a lot of traffic as the city and its roads settled down for the night. It was less than eight minutes later when he parked his car in the windswept car park of the Unity Park lookout. Brian Johnson and John Mouller had already arrived and were standing with a uniformed officer he did not know. The wind was buffeting them around.
Brian was a senior Detective and one of his most trusted colleagues. His calm, unflappable approach to the job had helped keep him in check on numerous occasions. John Mouller was a good officer when he wanted to be, which seemed to change from day to day. He always put that down to John's current relationship status, which also changed from day to day. As he got closer to the group, he got a surprise to see that Jo Williamson was also there.
"Hi Brian, John… Hi Jo?” Bridger said, looking back at Brian.
Brian just shrugged his shoulders, "No one said she should go back to uniform after the Watson case, so we just let her hang around", he said, smiling at Jo as he spoke.
Jo did not flinch "I've just been helping out until you got back Sergeant, I've cleared it with my new boss, and Brian said it was okay", she looked at Brian for confirmation. Brian nodded.
Jo Williamson had joined the team very soon after Bridger had been promoted, she had expressed an interest in Detective work and Bridger had needed an extra pair of hands when they were looking into the abduction of Marion Watson. She had proven herself a capable officer and showed promise. He had not seen her since then but Bridger was glad she had stuck around. She would help fix the gender balance on the team, with Becky Wright being the only other female.
"Maybe we should look into making it a more formal arrangement", Bridger said.
"I'd second that", John said, the darkness hiding the fact that he had his eyes planted squarely on Jo's backside.
The darkness was also hiding the red flush spreading up Jo's neck and into her cheeks as well as her radiant smile.
"You said 'New boss' Jo?" Bridger queried.
"Yeah, we'll it’s just Gillian Holler, she's acting Senior Sergeant, only until they get a replacement, you know after..." Jo's voice trailed off. She did not need to spell it out. When one of their colleagues had jumped off Lawyers Head, ending his life on a rock jutting out of the cold Pacific Ocean, he not only left a hole in the investigation into his past but also a large hole in the staffing levels back at the Central Police Station.
Bridger did not reply, instead they all walked over towards the blue Subaru parked on the very edge of the car park partially hidden in the darkness. The doors were open to the world along with the boot and there were compact discs lying on the seats and foot-well. The glove box hung open but looked empty and there was a strong smell of cannabis in the cabin area. Bridger looked at the driver’s side door lock, it had been punched open, he could see the tell tale signs of a hotwire start with part of the wiring loom hanging below the dashboard.
He had never figured out how it anyone actually did it, even with as many as he had come across in his career.
The rest of the car looked intact apart from that.
"I'd say they had another car parked here, probably their own, and just ditched this one here. It's as good a place as any to dump a car", Bridger said. He looked over at the houses on the other side of the park, across the road. Far enough away not to notice anything suspicious, the car park was used any time of the day and night because of its views over the city and out to the harbour. They would be well used to seeing cars come a
nd go. He would get someone to speak with the occupants though, if only to tick that box. "Let's have a scout about and see if we can find anything", he suggested.
Jo had found a pile of empty cider cans near the swings and had already marked them as evidence. Bridger had seen John walk through the area a few minutes prior without giving them a second thought. He guessed everyone placed different importance on what was lying around. A DNA sample from the cans may throw up a good suspect; it would certainly prove that they had been in the area around the time the car was abandoned and left wide open for them to find. He knew that the council workers cleaned up in the area almost every day. It was one of the more scenic places in the city. The tourist buses stopped here on their way around Dunedin. The obedient tourists would snap pictures on the advice of the bus driver who did not want the view tarnished with piles of rubbish. Bridger looked out into the darkness, the City lights shined brightly in the darkness below them like stars; the view was impressive.
A memory flashed though his mind of his wife Laura sitting beside him in their car, looking at the same view. He remembered her telling him then that she thought it was beautiful, she had said she found it hard to distinguish between the view of the city and the stars in the night sky. They had been so happy back then; he was almost at a loss to remember why they separated.
Shaking himself out of the memory, he forced himself back to reality.
"Good work Jo", he said, "Get them bagged up and we will get them tested for fingerprints and DNA. John you can stay here and help arrange for the car to be towed back to the central Police station for forensic examination". John's face fell as he processed his new task. It would take a couple of hours to sort out, but it would be a reminder to him to be more observant next time. He turned to his attention to the next thing "Brian, Jo, we will have a briefing back at the Police Station, do either of you need a ride?"
Brian shook his head.
"I got a ride here with Brian, so I guess I'll go back with him", Jo said, while looking at Brian for confirmation. He nodded in her direction.
"Good I'll see you back at the office in about twenty minutes then". Bridger said, before turning walking back to his car.
Martin sat in the bushes, hidden in the darkness and the undergrowth. He could see the police officers looking all around the car, inside and out. What did they think they would find, it was a stolen car, the only thing in there belonged to the owner. He watched anyway.
It had taken him ten minutes to get back to the park; he had used some of the money from the store to get a taxi. The driver had not even questioned him; he had just kept his eyes on the road as the police had gone by in the opposite direction. Joseph and Tama had not waited for him. He had left the store and watched as the Subaru disappeared at speed down the road. He had a moment of panic at the thought of his friends leaving him to fend for himself, but then self-preservation had kicked in. Arrest was the last thing he wanted; he did not shoot that man, so he had run, as far and as fast as he could, ducking into bushes as the blue and red flashes of the police cars got nearer. There were so many sirens that he could not tell where they were coming from, echoing around him from all directions.
As the taxi had gotten nearer to Unity Park, he had seen Joseph’s BMW driving in the opposite direction. The bastards had not even waited for him here either. He knew that Joseph did not like him. Although Joseph liked to keep company with younger guys, guys he could control and be idolised by, Martin had never been one of the chosen ones.
He patted the money in his pocket, it did not matter much anyway, he had the money, and now he had the rest of the night to himself.
Standing up in the darkness, he saw the female police officer pick up one of the empty cans they had been drinking earlier. Shit, they will have fingerprints all over them, he thought.
He had not been in trouble before so his fingerprints would not be on record, but Tama's prints would probably fill a whole filing cabinet. He had been caught more times than he could remember and always for some stupid thing or another. He smiled as he remembered the first time the Police had arrested Tama. He had come home and proudly shown off the black ink on his fingertips, it was like a badge of honour, which he had refused to wash off for days.
If he was honest with himself, he had felt a tinge of jealousy with all the attention Tama received from that. They were only seventeen at the time. Now his friend was becoming a bit of a liability and he was no longer jealous.
He wondered how Tama was feeling, having just shot a man. He had never seen Tama in a fight, he had heard him talk the talk before, but had never seen him put any of his rhetoric into action. Bloody Joseph Kingi had a lot to answer for, he was sick of the hold that Joseph had over everybody. A couple of knives would have been enough to do the job, now he may have just been involved in a murder. A cold chill ran up his spine.
There was more movement over by the car, it looked like the police were going to leave, at least some of them were returning to their own cars. The lady cop had the bag of cans with her. The cars drove away leaving two behind, one with a uniform and one without. The police officers that did not wear uniforms were the ones you had to look out for; the television had taught him that lesson early. They were Detectives; and they were the ones that solved the crime. The Detectives would be coming after them now; he would have to do some thinking about how they were going to get out of this.
Sliding further back onto the bush, he stood up again and walked away in the opposite direction.
When Bridger finally unlocked his front door, it had been four and a half hours since the phone call from Grant Wylie, over half a normal working day. They had done everything they could to progress the enquiry as much as they could. He just hoped it would not turn from an aggravated robbery into a murder, but if it did, he knew they had covered all the bases.
The last update from the hospital was that the victim was in surgery, he was critical but stable. They would know more in the morning.
The house was cold, even though it was the nearing middle of summer. It had a slightly musty smell to it, something he usually attributed to old men living alone in their blissful ignorance of cleaning.
He half expected to hear Laura's voice call out from the bedroom, the question was always- 'is that you Mike?’ If it had been anyone else, there was nothing she could have done about it, she had already announced where she was. He had tried not answering her one night after a night out drinking, thinking it would be funny to scare her a little. She had appeared in the darkened hallway, a pale frightened face staring at him. In one hand, she held a metal torch, and in the other, she had her mobile phone. It was not so funny trying to explain what had happened to the Police Call-Taker she had phoned in her terror.
The memory made him smile, something he had been doing more and more recently when he thought of her.
It was true to say that 'absence made the heart grow fonder'. It was also true to say that it was an effective tool for hiding the sins of the past, you remember less and less of why she went away and more of why you got together in the first place. A denial of one’s faults, he thought.
As it stood now she had not returned to their home since the night she walked out of his life. He had not laid eyes on her since the day he saw her in the café with that man, kissing him on the cheek, intimate and happy, so soon after their separation.
He had spoken to her on the phone, but her conversation was always clipped and to the point. 'When was he going to be out so she could collect more of her stuff?', or, 'She still needed time to collect her thoughts, clear her head'. Bridger hoped that there was no one else helping her to cleanse the last remnants of their relationship from her system.
He made his way through the empty house into the kitchen, turning lights on as he went. As always, his felt his eyes moving to the cupboard above the sink. He had not opened that cupboard door since shutting his demon inside. It was a reminder to him that he needed to be strong; he would not
find any solace at the bottom of the bottle. Leave the door shut and the light would not reflect on the amber liquid enticing him to sink to new depths with the welcoming smile of a devil.
One thing he was grateful for was he had realised his predicament sooner rather than later and was now able to use the cold hard surface of rock bottom to give him some purchase, a foothold to lever himself out of a very dark hole.
He toyed with the idea of putting on some music, just to help him relax before getting some sleep. He had recently discovered 'The Veils' and he had put the Cd on the player in the kitchen earlier.
Finn Andrews the lead singer, although English born, had attended school in Auckland and so had a New Zealand connection. His distinctive voice on the song Lavinia had touched him when he first heard it prompting him to take a new journey down the road of his musical taste, something he had not done in a long time.
Changing his mind after looking at the clock on the wall, there would be time for a few hours sleep before their shift started.
Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 3