by GB Williams
‘I don’t know what you’re up to, Perkins,’ he said, ‘but everyone’s noticed, so drop it.’
‘Everyone?’ he threw back. ‘What, like Teddington? You into her, or what? She a good screw?’
Charlie clenched his jaw, wanting to punch that snide face. Instead, he leant down and spoke very carefully. ‘Keep sucking Winehouse’s dick. Maybe he’ll protect you, but he won’t always be watching. I will.’ Charlie had the satisfaction of seeing Perkins’ eyes widen in fright, and his face drain of blood, before Charlie walked away.
An hour later, he was in his cell, sitting at his table. He’d given up on the statement. Teddington’s suggestion of coding ran shivers through his soul. He could do it, but he didn’t fancy spending the rest of his life in an office. He’d spent too much time locked up in here to be locked up out there. The problem was, all the things he could think of that he would like to do, were out of the question, because his criminal record precluded them. He’d killed a man in cold blood, knowing he’d serve time for it, but he hadn’t thought beyond that as to what the decision would mean once he was out. He’d face the outside world when he was part of it again. Something would turn up. It was all too late to whine about it now.
Instead, he picked up a book and tried to read it. Someone moved past the open cell door. By the time he’d glanced up, they were gone. He could still hear footfalls. Morris was on the opposite landing. For a moment, the two men’s eyes met. Morris shook his head, before turning away.
Charlie frowned. Odd.
He put down his book, stood, only to be forced back by the impact of a body thumping into his. Sight and sound assailed him as the cell seemed to contract, the closing door echoed, and finally, his brain registered.
His shoulder blades protested being slammed against the wall. Teddington had crashed into him, her eyes wide, full of surprise, and coloured with fear. His hands on her upper arms, she righted herself, and quickly glanced over her shoulder to see who’d pushed her. He looked, too – Stanton and Mohr.
Mohr had a hold of Dyer by the hair. Dyer was on his knees, a fresh, red line of blood running down his nose where the bridge had split from his being thrown against the edge of the bunk. Mohr had a shiv to Dyer’s throat – a toothbrush melted over two long halves of a razor blade. Stanton, a burglar and one of Winehouse’s men, stood to one side. He held what had once been a blunt dinner knife, but was now a sharpened blade. The cell door was closed, and there was a good chance others guarded the outside to prevent interference. Charlie suspected Perkins was one of them.
Dyer blinked, his fists clenched, his body tensed for action.
‘Don’t!’ Teddington commanded. ‘Mohr doesn’t need a reason to cut you.’
The police training in Charlie kicked in. He appreciated Teddington’s understanding, her attempt to keep the situation as calm as possible, even though he could feel her trembling with fear.
‘Go on, then,’ Stanton said. ‘Fuck her. We all know you want to.’
Charlie wasn’t sure how to react. ‘What?’
‘Fuck her. Come on, man, we ’aven’t got all day.’ Now, Stanton turned to Mohr. ‘Get him over the bunk.’
As Mohr moved Dyer, that shiv still frighteningly close to his carotid, Stanton turned back to Charlie. ‘Think of it as a present from a friend.’
Charlie didn’t have those kinds of friends and didn’t want this kind of present. But he knew what he had to do. He glanced down at Teddington, who was staring up at him in a dangerous mix of fear and rage. His hands were tight around her upper arms; she wasn’t going anywhere until he let her. Over her shoulder, he could see Stanton cutting the back of Dyer’s belt; Teddington wasn’t the only intended rape victim.
As she started to struggle, Charlie’s grip tightened even further. He pulled her off her feet, pushed her around the table, backed her into the wall. He tried not to slam her too hard, but he had to make this look good. Her eyes flicked to Stanton, went wide to see Dyer’s shouts muffled by the pathetic depth of mattress, as Mohr pushed his face down, held him for Stanton. Pressing his body against her, Charlie bent his head, apparently mauling her neck, and whispered in her ear.
‘Donkey.’
With a surprising burst of energy, Charlie pushed away from the wall, swinging Teddington bodily as he did. She kicked out viciously. Her well-aimed heavy boots connected hard with Stanton’s head – he fell to the floor without a sound. Charlie was vaguely aware of Teddington staggering against the wall, as he let her go and moved, his fist connecting hard with Mohr’s nose. The shiv clattered to the floor. Mohr fell against the door, the smack of his head resounding heavily. He was down but not out. Charlie stepped over Stanton’s limp form, took a bunch of Mohr’s shirt in his hand to drag him up, so he could punch him again. Three years of pent up frustration over took him, and he lashed out.
‘Charlie.’
He hit Mohr.
‘Charlie!’
This time, Teddington’s voice reached him. He turned to see her kneeling on the floor, a wad of sheet clamped to Dyer’s throat. The man lay awkwardly, his whole body shaking, sheet rapidly turning red. Charlie dropped Mohr, letting him fall. Dyer needed medical assistance, and he needed it now.
Only the screws had keys, so the door couldn’t be locked. He yanked the handle with every ounce of adrenaline-fuelled strength he had. Two bodies fell towards him. A fist in the face stopped one in its track, the other caught and turned, running away.
Charlie stumbled out onto the open landing, seeing a half dozen officers stampeding towards him. When had the klaxon started ringing?
Any other thought was impossible as a thousand volts buzzed through Charlie’s body, and he fell quaking to the landing floor.
9
Charlie blinked, he was on his back in his cell, waking up. Just a dream. Some dreadful nightmare. Why am I on the lower bunk? His knuckles ached, and he could feel the bruise across his right bicep where he’d hit the guard rail before slumping to the floor.
‘Teddington.’ He sat bolt upright as he said the name.
‘She’s fine.’
Charlie’s head jerked to his left. His eyes widened to see DCI Piper sitting in his chair, reading his copy of The Vivero Letter by Desmond Bagley. It might be old, written in 1968, but it was still readable. The DCI closed it and looked at the cover.
‘Not his best,’ he observed.
‘I prefer High Citadel.’ Charlie considered moving to stand, but he wasn’t sure his legs could take it. Instead, he simply lay back down. ‘Actually, I’d prefer anything more modern, but beggars can’t be choosers.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Dyer?’
‘Not so good,’ Piper advised. ‘Lost a lot of blood.’
‘Tough first day.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Stanton and Mohr?’
‘Secure hospital facilities. I’ll be interviewing Stanton later, but they aren’t sure about Mohr. You pretty much broke every bone in his face.’
‘He wanted to rape, possibly kill, both Dyer and Teddington.’
Piper let that hang in the air.
Charlie stared up at the slats of the upper bunk, wondered where the mattress was. The image of Dyer bleeding out flashed before his eyes. The original mattress was a bio-hazard now. He was probably laying on his mattress; it had to be much easier to bring the mattress down than to put him up. He took a deep breath, running a mental check list. Plenty of his body hurt but none of it bad. Bruised but not broken. ‘Who was outside?’
‘Jack Perkins and Richard Finlay. Both are helping with our enquiries.’
Charlie frowned. ‘This makes no sense. Finlay and Mohr are Keen’s boys, Perkins and Stanton work for Winehouse. Why are they working together?’
‘Don’t you know?’
Charlie turned and looked at Piper. ‘No. Do you?’
Piper didn’t respond, but he didn’t move, either. Charlie knew there was more to come.
‘What’s your version of events?’
A
s he clinically related what had happened, Charlie tried not to remember how good it had felt to have a woman pressed against him, how good her apple scent made him feel.
‘Why say donkey?’ Piper asked when Charlie finished. ‘Why not just tell her to kick?’
Charlie smiled. ‘Because I needed a second’s pause while she figured out what I was telling her to do and got her in position to do it.’
Piper made an odd sound before he stood.
‘I take it I’m not getting parole any time soon.’
Charlie tipped his head to the side to look up at Piper standing over him. He couldn’t read his old friend’s expression. That wasn’t good.
Piper’s hands went into his pockets, he took a deep breath, huffed it back out. ‘That’s undecided. Mrs Teddington is stopping short of calling you a hero, but she has stated if it had been any other prisoner in here, she doubts she would have survived.’
‘Mrs?’ Charlie hadn’t known that. He huffed. ‘Of course, she’s married.’
Charlie groaned as the door was opened. He’d put the mattress back on the top bunk, but now, he regretted it. His body ached more now than yesterday. Charlie couldn’t exercise, both his knuckles and his bicep protesting too much to even consider it. Hungry, he went down for breakfast slowly. As soon as he stepped from his cell, it was obvious everyone was avoiding him. They wouldn’t even meet his eye – apparently, an exclusion zone had been put around him. Still, on the bright side, it meant he had plenty of room, no risk of jostling today, his aching flesh thankfully acknowledged. He got his food tray, ate mechanically. As he returned his crockery, he jumped at the metallic clang of a food tray hitting the floor. He turned to see Holden staring, slack jawed, at something at the far end of the floor.
‘Officer Teddington!’
Charlie shifted, stopped. Shock had him rooted to the spot.
Teddington.
He blinked, his jaw felt slack. Teddington looked exactly as she had yesterday. Sanchez loomed at her side.
‘Holden.’
The greeting and the tone were absolutely neutral, she looked exactly as she always did. It was like yesterday had never happened. Good for her. Charlie wasn’t going to admire it, or be proud – those were emotions for her husband. Not him. He wasn’t going to admit his guts twisted with jealousy knowing she went home to a husband every night. Hadn’t she mentioned a kid, too?
‘We weren’t expecting to see you today.’ Holden had the attention of the wing, voicing its common thought.
‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘I told you yesterday I’m covering for Richmond. Now, you’d better clean that mess up.’
As she moved on, the suspended moment broke, normality returned. Released from his unexpected paralysis, Charlie returned his tray, before heading for the notice boards.
‘You’re not on the lists,’ Sanchez told him, as the two officers approached from the other side.
Charlie turned and looked at him, the animosity he’d shown the other day was still clear, as was the protective aura he was projecting around Teddington. She didn’t look overly appreciative. ‘Quiet day for me, then.’ He shrugged.
‘You should be able to get some reading done.’
Charlie was still frowning over Teddington’s odd remark, as he returned to his cell.
Teddington paced the floor, acting normal as far as she could. Her insides were knotted. She was jumping at nothing; every shadow was a lurking attacker. Nervous system stretched tight, she wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through the shift. Having Sanchez watching her like a hawk was both a blessing and a curse. He had her back, which seemed like reassurance, but was he waiting for her to mess up?
The Governor had suggested she take the day off, but there was no one else available to cover Richmond’s shift, which would have meant restrictions for the inmates. Huffing, she continued her pace, watching the men, wary of anything unusual. Or usual. It was exhausting. When Sanchez stopped to pass the time with a couple of inmates, she stopped, too, careful to be neutral with them, but her mind was far from on the job. It was nearly eleven when she finally spotted Charlie leave his cell, library book in hand. God that took him a while.
‘Didn’t you mention wanting to speak to Fellows this morning?’ she asked Sanchez, as they moved away from the chat.
‘He’s not going anywhere.’
She smiled up at him; prison humour was wry at best. ‘He’s not comfortable around women, either, particularly me, for some reason.’ Despite knowing that reason, only Fellows shared the secret, and she intended to keep it that way. ‘You go have your chat.’
‘You’ll be okay?’
This time, her smile was more genuine, at least she hoped it was. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl, and I’ve been doing this enough years now, so please, I don’t need babysitting. We both have jobs to do.’
The separation was a relief, but she had to stop herself from running, as she headed towards the library. She hated feeling more vulnerable today than she had yesterday.
At first, she thought the library was empty, but the librarian was speaking softly to another inmate, helping with some textbook he was looking through.
Teddington moved to the fiction section, not surprised when she saw Charlie browsing there. He turned to her, as she approached. She stopped closer than she normally would, but it wasn’t close enough, not like yesterday. She could feel the heat coming from him, felt it generating heat inside her. Meeting his eyes, she could see the guardedness in him.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
She felt her hackles rise. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Aware they could be overheard, she kept her voice low. ‘Several thousand volts being shot through you for a start.’ She was sniping at the one man in the whole place who didn’t deserve it. ‘But, why should I care?’ This isn’t good, the thought cut through her, she pivoted away, but his hand clamped on her arm, spinning her back, keeping her with him.
‘You shouldn’t,’ he ground out. ‘And I shouldn’t do this, either.’
She saw it coming, he leaned down a placed a quick hard kiss on her lips again, and again, she didn’t even think about stopping him. Then, they were just glaring at one another. She closed her eyes. Felt the sigh of his breath on her face, and his hands fell away from her arm. But, he didn’t go anywhere. When she opened her eyes, they both seemed calmer.
‘Teddington?’
A huge lump blocked her throat. She struggled to plough through this battlefield of emotion, pushing aside the desperation to hug him, the simultaneous need to run away. She struggled to find any coherent thought.
‘Why come in today?’ he asked.
‘Richmond’s off.’ She shrugged. ‘No one else to cover.’
‘Wasn’t a case that you had to prove to yourself you still could, then?’
Her heart hammered, her jaw slackened. Dear God, he could read her like a book.
He glanced over the top of her head; his eyes clouded. When he looked back at her, she wasn’t sure if he had her pinned or mesmerised.
‘Those drawings?’ he asked. ‘Your kid?’
Pinned. And on the ropes. She had to swallow, before she could answer. She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘I miss him.’ He shifted his eyes away. ‘I’m just another worthless Dad, who didn’t get to see his son’s first day in school.’
‘What about the man you killed? Did he?’
Hating herself for saying that, she marched sharply away.
Teddington felt every nerve had been stretched to the limit. Avoiding Charlie for the rest of the shift had been easy; he’d pretty much kept to his cell, and she’d kept out of it.
Her skin crawled at the way the men looked at her, whispered behind her back. If they did. She rubbed the nape of her neck. Paranoia? After yesterday, she couldn’t be sure. Her hand wasn’t as steady as she’d like by the time she signed out and got to the locker room to collect her bag.
She was struggling to get the locker to close properly when Sanchez appeared by her side. Like her, he had changed out of uniform. Unlike her, he looked ready for a night out. She wasn’t sure she had the energy for a night in.
‘Saw you talking to Bell earlier.’
Teddington tried not to react. Just because he had seen them talking, didn’t mean he’d seen them kissing. It probably meant he’d seen them pass the time of day at lunch. ‘I spoke to a number of the men today. Several of them expressed sympathy for what happened. A few even wanted gory details.’
‘I’ve been hearing gory details.’
Sanchez spoke easily, but when Teddington faced him, she didn’t feel overly easy. Sanchez was a few inches taller than her, broad, honed. And somehow, he made her feel less comfortable than Charlie had, which was ridiculous. She and Sanchez had been friends for years. She sighed. Clearly, she wasn’t going to get away until he’d made his point. ‘What gory details?’
‘The ones that have you snogging Bell.’
She let her jaw drop, not at all surprised by the low register of Sanchez’s tone. He wasn’t happy. Nor was she. She wanted to brush it aside, but she had to be careful. ‘It’s not a new accusation, for me or other female members of staff. Come to think of it, I’ve heard it about some of the male officers, too.’
‘But, is it true this time?’
She gritted her teeth and took a big breath, calming herself before she snapped at him. As she swallowed, she opened her eyes, speaking as carefully as she could. ‘I can assure you, at no time have I “snogged” Charlie Bell.’ She wouldn’t call either of those two kisses ‘snogs.’ ‘In fact, I’m kind of hurt you, of all people, would think that. I thought you respected my professionalism, our friendship.’ Even if she wasn’t showing much of either today.