Adrian stood up and barrelled towards DCI Kapoor’s office. Imogen hoped he didn’t lose his temper. She couldn’t stay in here and try to guess what the DCI was saying to Adrian; she needed some air. It had been raining earlier, so she grabbed her coat and went outside to wait for the DCC to show up.
Just being outside made Imogen want a cigarette, but she hadn’t had one since about three days after New Year’s Eve. One more week and she would have gone two whole months without one.
A car she didn’t recognise pulled into the forecourt and a man she wasn’t familiar with got out. She wrapped her coat around her and walked towards him, the wind whipping her hair into an unruly mess.
‘DCC Sneddon?’ she called out.
‘Yes, how did you know?’ He was tall with sandy blond hair and a stern face, but she liked to imagine he didn’t look unreasonable.
‘You just look like PSD.’
‘I’ll pretend that’s a compliment.’ He held his hand out and she took it; he had a firm shake, confident, that of someone in a position of authority.
‘I’m DS Imogen Grey. The DCI has asked me to take you through to see her.’
‘Do you know the accused?’ he said sombrely.
‘I do. He’s my partner.’
‘I’m guessing you believe him.’
‘Correct.’
‘OK, let’s get this show on the road,’ he said in an apologetic voice.
This at least gave her hope that he wasn’t just out to nail someone. She hated her job sometimes.
Chapter Ten
Being on this side of the interview table was no fun. Adrian waited patiently for DCC Trevor Sneddon to start asking questions. They had already got the formalities out of the way: date, time, name, rank. Adrian could feel the beginnings of a migraine, or maybe he just really wanted a drink.
‘Could you tell me about the first meeting with Caitlin Watts?’ DCC Sneddon began.
‘She was brought in for breaking into a chapel. Her grandfather was a reverend, though, and so no charges were brought and we let her go,’ Adrian said.
‘Did she steal anything?’ Sneddon asked.
‘Apparently not.’
‘How did she seem at that time?’
‘I don’t know. Normal. She was quite friendly,’ Adrian said. Did that make him look bad?
‘And the next time you saw her?’
‘Yesterday morning. She said hello to us near the scene of the Norris murder. We went to speak to one of his colleagues, who turned out to be her lecturer. Psychology, um … her name was Gillian Mitchell. Miss Watts walked past and said hello.’
‘And you hadn’t arranged to meet Caitlin Watts there?’
‘Of course not. It was a murder that we were called out to. How would I know beforehand that it was going to happen?’ he said, trying not to get annoyed at the questions. He knew they had to ask them.
‘And then the next time?’
‘Yesterday again. She came in late afternoon and told us that she thought Hugh Norris was having an affair with a student. She also told us that one of his students committed suicide exactly three months ago. She brought in an article about the suicide and I put it on the desk.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘She told me she couldn’t get home and that she was a bit upset by the murder, so I offered to give her a lift.’
‘You offered? Why?’
‘Actually no, I offered to get someone else to drop her home, but she asked if I could do it. She said she was nervous because of the violent nature of the murder.’
‘And you said?’
‘I said, fine. I was leaving anyway.’
‘And what happened then?’
‘I drove her home, she got out and I drove home.’
‘You didn’t get out of the car and see her to her door?’
‘No, I didn’t. I didn’t even really watch her go inside. I just left. Then I parked up at home and walked to The Imperial.’
‘Were you alone?’
‘Yes. I was a bit pissed off because I was supposed to have my son stay over last night, but he made other plans.’
‘So, no one can corroborate your story?’
‘Sorry, no.’
‘OK. Let’s talk about you for a moment,’ Sneddon said with a heavy sigh, clearly not enjoying this any more than Adrian.
‘I thought that was what we were doing.’
‘Are you in a relationship?’ Sneddon asked.
‘Not that it’s any of your business, but no.’
‘I heard your last relationship ended rather traumatically. Is that correct?’
‘Do they ever end well?’ Adrian said, trying to make light of it.
‘Have you sought any counselling for what happened? It’s hard losing someone to an act of violence.’
‘I’m dealing with it just fine,’ Adrian lied.
‘Have you ever dated anyone in the station?’
‘I had a casual relationship with Duty Sergeant Denise Ferguson, but that ended a long time ago. I haven’t had a relationship at all since Lucy died.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Why does this matter?’
‘Just answer the question.’
Adrian thought about Imogen for a moment. Should he mention it? It wasn’t a relationship, it wasn’t even sexual, but somehow it was important. Far too important to talk about here.
‘I went out with PC Tessa Burgess briefly and a couple other officers who have since transferred out.’
‘Does briefly mean a one-night stand?’
‘Yes. But there wasn’t any drink involved or anything. It was a consensual situation and it was before she worked in this division.’
‘We’ll speak to her, but for now, you can see yourself out.’
Adrian left the interrogation room feeling worse than he had done before he went in. Everything he had said made him sound like a complete scumbag.
Imogen was waiting outside. He struggled to even look at her at the moment. It was taking all of his energy not to just throw himself in front of a bus right now.
Chapter Eleven
Imogen had tried to explain her feelings about Caitlin Watts to DCC Sneddon without making her sound like a psychotic vampire. It didn’t sit well with her at all, not believing the victim. She felt like she was betraying every rape victim that had ever walked through the door. Imogen tried to imagine what she would feel had she not met Caitlin beforehand and immediately distrusted her. Did that distrust automatically mean she was lying now? For all she knew maybe she was all of those things that Imogen thought about her beforehand. That didn’t exclude her from being attacked, that didn’t mean she would never tell the truth ever again. Sometimes people lie, sometimes they tell the truth. If it were any other man, she might even have given Caitlin Watts the benefit of the doubt. But this was Adrian.
‘You and Detective Miles have worked together for some time now,’ DCC Sneddon pressed.
‘Yes.’
‘Have you ever noticed a particularly sexist or negative attitude towards women at all?’
‘For being women? No.’
‘He’s had some relationships within the station. Did you know about them?’
‘I knew about him and Denise. I don’t tell him everyone I sleep with either though, to be fair.’
‘Denise Ferguson? Did she say anything to you about the relationship?’
‘No. I know she wasn’t happy when it ended though.’
‘Does DS Miles have many impromptu relationships?’
‘A few, I think. Or at least he used to. What’s that got to do with anything? Sleeping around doesn’t make him a sexual predator. Women like sex, too. Not all of us are being manipulated into it when we have a one-night stand.’ She hated the constant portrayal of women as easy to ‘trick’ into sex. As though a woman who wants to sleep around is being taken advantage of each time because she has a low self-esteem. So much stigma around women who liked sex.
‘What abou
t you? Have you ever been intimate with DS Miles?’
‘Depends what you mean by intimate.’ She tried to laugh off his question, but he looked at her curiously, as though he knew she were hiding something. She wasn’t about to tell him about her and Adrian’s arrangement. It didn’t mean anything, and it certainly didn’t bear any relevance to this case.
‘Have you ever had sexual intercourse or taken part in any sexual acts with DS Miles?’
‘No, I haven’t.’
Not a lie, not quite the truth either.
‘Would you say your partnership is solid? Do you think he keeps secrets from you?’
‘No, I don’t think he does. I trust him implicitly.’
‘OK, thank you, Miss Grey.’
‘That’s it?’
‘That’s it for now at least. Unless we hear anything that contradicts your statement.’
‘Should I send Denise in?’
‘Thank you, yes.’ DCC Trevor Sneddon attempted a smile to comfort Imogen, but she left the room without returning it.
She walked straight outside, needing some fresh air. Within a few seconds, Adrian was standing beside her.
‘Well?’
‘Well what, Adrian? You know I can’t talk about it.’
‘Fuck that, what did you say?’
‘I said what I would have said if you were standing in the room. Don’t worry, I’m on your side.’
‘Did he ask you about us?’
‘He did.’
‘And what did you tell him?’
She felt her eyebrows involuntarily raise as he said the words. Neither of them had spoken about this, let alone outside work in the daylight.
‘That there was nothing going on between us. There’s nothing to tell,’ Imogen said.
A weight clearly lifted from him when she said that.
‘That’s what I thought. I just wanted to check with you. I didn’t tell him either.’
‘I don’t see how it would make any difference to the investigation. Apart from getting us into a whole heap of shit.’ She changed the subject. ‘Sneddon’s speaking to Denise now. I might go and watch. Why don’t you speak to Gary and see if he can find any CCTV footage around The Imperial to prove where you were. If she is lying, we can prove it, just remember that.’
‘What do you mean if?’ Adrian snapped.
‘Don’t be like that, you know what I meant.’
Adrian relaxed. ‘Thanks for having my back on this. Not everyone would.’
‘I hope if the situation were reversed you would do the same for me.’
‘You know I would. Good idea about Gary, I’ll see if he can work some of his magic. Is anyone speaking to Caitlin Watts?’
‘I think DI Walsh is back over there taking a statement. I’ll speak to you later.’
Imogen left Adrian outside. She noticed how uncomfortable she felt around him, and she couldn’t help but wonder why. Was it just that they had finally spoken about their strange sleepovers out loud? Or was it something else?
Not wanting to think about that right now, Imogen wanted to hear what Denise had to say, so she went into the adjacent room and watched the live feed.
‘How often would you say you and DS Miles had sex?’ Sneddon asked Denise.
‘Do you have to be so crude? Every few weeks.’
‘But there was no relationship?’
‘I don’t know how to answer that question. We were both single, consenting adults. Yes, we hooked up for sex. Is that wrong?’
‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you if the sex was particularly rough?’
‘It was as rough as we both wanted it to be,’ Denise huffed.
‘That’s not an answer. I’m going to need more than that,’ DCC Sneddon said.
Imogen felt wrong listening in, but she couldn’t tear herself away. Denise was obviously holding something back.
‘It was a bit rough. But only because I wanted that. Adrian wasn’t like that at first.’
‘So, you’re saying his aggressive sexual behaviour escalated?’
‘No! I’m saying I asked him to be rougher and he was. I told him what I wanted, that’s all. He didn’t do anything outside of that. He never did anything I was uncomfortable with.’
‘Did he ever hit you during sex? Did you ask him to?’
‘No. I feel like my words are getting twisted up here. Adrian’s a good guy.’
‘What about choking? Did he ever strangle you? Either with his hands or anything else?’
‘I don’t want to answer that question.’
‘I think we’re probably past that now. You have to answer the question.’
Denise took a deep breath and Imogen found herself closing her eyes, waiting for her to say what everyone now knew she was about to say.
‘I asked him to choke me, and so he did, yes.’
‘More than once?’
‘Yes, more than once.’
‘And did you ask him every time? Or did he sometimes just do it?’
Denise exhaled loudly, exasperated. ‘I didn’t ask him every time, no.’
‘Did he ever choke you until you passed out?’
‘No, never. It wasn’t like that.’
Imogen was growing more and more concerned for Adrian; Denise wasn’t doing the greatest job in the interview. Rather than alleviating any concerns they might have about Adrian, she was sure that Denise had just opened a whole other can of worms.
Imogen left the room, unable to listen to any more. Over at the bank of desks, Adrian and Gary were huddled together. She noticed people looking at Adrian and the occasional whisper from some of the newer members of staff. Adrian did have a reputation for being a bit promiscuous, and it was completely justified a couple of years ago, but even in the time that Imogen had known him he had grown up and changed. Anyone who knew him well knew he wasn’t capable of this.
‘Any luck with the CCTV?’ Imogen asked Gary as she reached the two men.
‘I’m fast, but I’m not that fast. I’m collecting the feeds and will get straight on it after I grab some dinner from the canteen, I’m starving. I’m just trying to get a clear picture of Adrian’s movements so that I know where to look before I start.’ Gary smiled nervously.
‘Do we know what time she says the attack took place?’ Imogen pressed.
‘Around ten p.m.,’ Gary replied.
‘Did you take any money out? Most cashpoints have a camera on them; we could see if there’s anything,’ Gary asked Adrian.
‘I did, at the Lloyds cashpoint by St David’s Station. At around nine thirty, I think.’
‘I’ll see if I can get some footage from the station at that time.’
‘What time were you mugged?’ Imogen asked.
‘Around eleven, I think. I left before last orders,’ Adrian said. He looked tired and a little manic. Imogen couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling.
‘Adrian, why don’t you go home and sleep? I’ll go through the footage with Gary. I’ll stay here all night until we find something, OK?’
‘What if you don’t find anything, Imogen? What then?’
‘We will. I won’t stop until we do.’
‘I’ve seen the way people are looking at me today.’
‘Of course they’re going to look at you, that’s to be expected. It doesn’t matter because you are going to be exonerated.’
Adrian nodded. ‘OK, I’ll go home. I just wish I knew why this was happening.’
‘I know. We’re going to figure it out,’ Imogen reassured him.
Adrian grabbed his coat and left, while Imogen settled down to the desk and put the headphones on. She started watching the CCTV footage they had so far, mostly on fast forward as nothing was happening in the majority of it.
Later, Gary sent her a text to tell her that the bank was shut and so they would have to wait until the morning to get the cashpoint information. This was going to be a long night.
Chapter Twelve
Adrian was on his thir
d glass of whisky when he decided to run himself a bath. He needed a way to de-stress that didn’t involve him going out, getting drunk and then getting into a fight. As much as that was the only thing he really wanted to do right now.
The thoughts that kept circling his mind were foetid. Why would anyone do this to him? Who had actually hurt that poor girl and why was she accusing him? Nothing made any sense. He lay in the water, wondering if he could drown himself. He had heard it was impossible to do it in a bathtub, that the desire to live was too ingrained, too prevalent to be overridden by sheer will. That no matter how much you might want to die, something inside you would stop that from happening. Still, Adrian slid under the hot water; even for a new perspective it was worth it. He tried to stay under, but even when he knew he could hold out a little longer, his body forced him out.
He grabbed the bottle from the side of the bath and filled his glass again. He could see the bruises starting to form on his ribs, the bruises they had photographed with the UV camera and catalogued at the station. He felt unclean as a result of being treated like a suspect. He thought about all the people he had arrested in the past, especially the ones who maintained their innocence until they were put away. Having to have the inside of his mouth and his penis swabbed was humiliating, especially when it was a colleague who had to do it, a colleague who suspected you of rape, who treated you like a rapist. He drank.
Feeling somewhat soothed after getting out of the bath, on the outside at least, Adrian pulled out some comfortable clothes and decided to settle for the night in front of the TV with what was left of his bottle. He couldn’t help but think about what people must be saying about him. The idea of it turned his stomach.
He thought about the attack, whether it was something he was even capable of. He’d had one-night stands that were slightly rough, but nothing that hadn’t been invited first. He recalled his relationship with Denise Ferguson and how she liked him to put his hands around her throat. He hadn’t agreed at first; he’d made her promise him that she would let him know if he was squeezing too tight. The thought of doing that without her permission, with her struggling to get away, made him feel sick.
He had to distract himself from these thoughts. He needed to replace the image of himself hurting someone like that. He grabbed a box of beer from the fridge for when he ran out of whisky and took it into the front room.
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