by GB Williams
‘Who’d do that?’
She shrugged. ‘Dunno. The kind of changes that have happened are small tweaks, easier to do in the original database than on the extraction, because it’s harder to be certain you have the right cell to change, on a BIF than an export, but it’s possible.’
‘What’s a BIF?’
She looked at Malkin, struggling to find a non-technical explanation. ‘Err, it’s a way of doing a mass upload of data.’
‘But why would they change data though?’
‘To control who gets what privileges?’ Parry suggested.
‘Who picked Sanchez and Richmond for the funeral duty?’ she asked.
Turner couldn’t quite meet her eye when he admitted it had been him. ‘I thought Robbins would want the overtime, but he didn’t. He had something on, so I figured Richmond would probably want the extra money after his holidays, and since Sanchez was off, too, I asked them to do it.’
When she’d made arrangements for the funeral, Teddington hadn’t paid any attention to the rota, beyond knowing it was her day off, but that meant there were only three other choices – Robbins, Richmond, and Sanchez. It was them, or someone off another wing.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Turner told Malkin. ‘With limited staff, there are limited choices.’
‘No one’s accusing you of anything,’ Teddington assured him, though she knew they were getting close to it. Paranoia was working overtime all around, it seemed. ‘Besides, maybe this is taking the point ad nauseam, but are we really saying every one of our colleagues is somehow corrupt?’
The five of them slumped back from the table, considering the implications.
Charlie paced. Paced and worried. Passing information on to Piper wasn’t easy. Even though he’d addressed the letter to Miss Sheila Collins, Piper’s wife, he couldn’t be sure that Sheila would pass the letter to Piper, and he was less sure Piper would decipher the code in the innocent-looking letter. It had been nearly a week, and there was no evidence of anything happening, no guarantee Piper had even received the letter.
He also worried about Teddington. She’d been sick in work, and every new shift she looked paler, somehow more haunted. Her eyes were shadowed, and her cheeks hollowing. And she was avoiding him like the plague. At least that made sense, and he was making it easier for her by showing an apparent indifference.
It was late, and he could hear cell doors being closed, locked. Someone would come to his door soon, and he’d be trapped again inside this cage. He stepped closer to the door, looking over the landing, memorising the space he already knew by heart.
When she appeared and reached for the door, Teddington’s eyes were lowered.
‘Ari?’
She jumped and looked up, surprised to see him standing there.
‘Everything alright?’
‘Fine.’
He wondered if the Oxford English Dictionary should add a new definition to that word, “When said by a woman, this means the exact opposite of fine, but the man she’s said it to needs to develop telepathy to understand what she really means.”
‘No, you’re not,’ he said. ‘You’re closer to the edge than Brett was when he snapped.’
For a moment, he wasn’t sure if she was going to cry or punch him, then she grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pushed him to his right, backed him up against the wall in the very front corner of the cell behind the door. He tensed in preparation of an assault, but was totally unprepared when she just lay her head on his chest and leaned into him.
The front, right-hand corner of the cell.
The one place she could be sure the internal cameras couldn’t see them. She was trembling. He did the only thing he could, put his arms around her, and held her tight.
In that instant, all he could do was enjoy the feel of her, the warmth, the surging need. He kissed the top of her hair and stayed there, that incredible scent of apples so fresh and reassuring. He could, he would, stand here all night like this, if she needed him, but he knew they had limited time.
‘Ari, what’s wrong?’
‘Paranoia working overtime,’ she told him softly. ‘I feel like I’m constantly being watched. Don’t know which way to run.’ She sniffed. ‘Even the most innocuous comment sounds like a veiled threat.’
He squeezed her. Whoever was behind the attacks, she probably was being watched, and the comments weren’t so innocuous, but telling her that wouldn’t help.
She drew in a deep breath and pulled away from him. He didn’t want to let go, but he had to. She wiped her cheeks unnecessarily. She hadn’t let a single tear go, but she was getting close. ‘If anything happens,’ she told him softly, ‘trust Turner.’
Then, she was gone, the door was closed and locked. Charlie stayed leaning against the wall, feeling bereft.
If anything happens. What could happen? Altogether, too damn much. He returned to his desk, retrieved the pad. He had to get another letter to Piper.
27
At six o’clock, Teddington kicked off her shoes and flopped into the sofa. Her mother would have scolded her, ‘flopped on furniture fails faster.’ Thankfully, Mum was across the road; the Sanchez’s were having a bit of party to celebrate their son’s recovery and to catch up with old friends and neighbours, some of whom hadn’t been neighbours for years, but everyone knew Mrs Sanchez did the best buffet. With the house to herself, a large glass of wine, and sole possession of the remote control, Teddington was looking forward to a truly relaxing evening.
Three hours later, she was debating whether to go to bed or stay up and open the second bottle when there was a loud rap at the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, didn’t want to see anyone, and it was damn late to be calling.
The next set of knocks was even louder and accompanied by the holler of her name. Recognising the slurring tones of Len Robbins, Teddington put down the empty glass and stomped to the door, her mellow mood having dissipated completely.
She tried to compose herself as she went to the door, but she could feel all the tension back in her shoulders and neck. Opening the door, she wasn’t at all surprised to smell the alcohol on his breath.
‘Swee’pea!’ He was leaning against the door jamb but stumbled in, throwing his arms around her, putting her off balance.
Struggling under his weight, Teddington pushed him against the hall wall to close the door and stop all the heat escaping into the cold night. When she turned to look at him, his octopus arms were around her again, and he was muttering less-than-sweet nothings in her ear.
‘Robbins, you’re pissed. Come on.’ She tried to steer him into the living room, grateful he was on the side away from her mother’s knickknack cabinet. ‘Let’s get you inside and get some coffee into you.’
Struggling to control him, she got him to the sofa, watching disapprovingly as he flopped down, instantly berating herself for turning into her mother, as she moved to put the kettle on. She didn’t get far when Robbins hand clamped around her wrist, catching her off guard. He pulled her on to his lap, trapping her there with his hold. She thought about squirming, but figured it wouldn’t really help.
He looked down at her with red-rimmed eyes, a leery smile, and beer breath. ‘Hello.’
‘Robbins,’ she spoke calmly. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘I got ya.’
And not in a good way, she thought. ‘You’ve also got a wife,’ she pointed out. ‘How would Rose feel if she saw us like this?’
‘Wou’n’t care.’
Teddington was well aware Rose had long ago lost patience with the jokes about her being a Red–ish Robbin, but she was pretty sure the woman still cared about her husband. The memory of him with Fry popped into her head and she wondered if Len still cared for Rose.
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ She patted his arm as best she could, since her own arms were pinned. ‘Come on, let me up. I’ll make you some coffee, and you can tell me all about it.’
‘She kic’ me out.’<
br />
Apparently, he was going to tell her all about it, anyway. As he spun his tale of woe, Teddington looked around her, occasionally testing the tightness of his hold. It wasn’t diminishing any. She didn’t like this. It wasn’t comfortable, not because of the position, but because it was Robbins. She hadn’t felt this uncomfortable with a bullet in her shoulder, a handcuff pulling the same arm, as she’d been slung over a running man’s shoulder. She was pretty damn sure Robbins had copped a feel of her arse, too. On and on, Robbins wittered until she just couldn’t stand it any longer.
‘Robbins.’ When he didn’t stop, she left gentle behind and barked in his face. ‘Robbins!’
He sat back, the moment of surprise sobering him up for at least a second. ‘What?’
‘Let go of me.’
As if he hadn’t noticed he had hold of her, he suddenly let go, and she was half falling, half scrambling to her feet.
‘I’ll make you some coffee,’ she told him over her shoulder, as she headed to the kitchen.
Glad to be free of the man, Teddington waited as the kettle bubbled, wishing he’d never turned up to spoil her evening. The kettle was making nearly-ready sounds when she felt hands sliding around her waist, his head propped on her shoulder, and this time, she was pinned against the work surface.
‘Wish my wife would listen to me like you do.’
Teddington bit her lip to avoid being too harsh. ‘Why don’t you go home and see if she will?’ She shifted, and he let her go. ‘I’ll call you a taxi.’ But, she didn’t get far, only far enough to have turned around, and he pressed up against her, his body in contact with most of hers. Now, she really wasn’t comfortable.
‘Come on, swee’pea.’ He was looking down at her, his head swaying drunkenly. ‘You know you wanna.’ He dipped his head. She dodged the kiss, but instead, he started to nuzzle her neck. ‘I wanna.’
‘Yeah, I can tell.’ This time, she squeezed her arms up enough to get purchase on his chest and manoeuvred him away. He was so unsteady on his feet, she had to catch him again. ‘Great,’ she sighed. ‘Guess you’d better stay.’
‘Now, ya talkin’. Lez go t’ bed.’
‘Okay.’ She guided him out of the kitchen.
‘Share your bed.’
‘Nope.’
She steered him into the living room again and got him settled on the length of the sofa. His hands were everywhere. He didn’t manage to get under her jumper, but he had a good grope all the same. She slapped his hands and shoved him away. They were both going to be sorry about this in the morning.
‘Get to sleep.’ Teddington dragged the throw from the back of the sofa over him and took his shoes off, before her mother had that to complain about, too. She wouldn’t exactly be happy to find a man crashed out on the sofa as it was.
Leaving him there, Teddington switched off the TV and made sure everything was off, then went up to her own room. Her jumper was over her head when hands grabbed her breasts from behind. She squealed, and rushed to divest herself fully of the jumper, but by that time, he had hold of her, and they were falling on the bed. His weight was heavy and unwelcome, his lips were wet and stank, and she had to move quick to avoid them.
‘Get off me, Robbins!’ She tried to get out from under him.
‘Come on, sweetpea, you know you want to.’
‘I do not!’
‘Sanchez won’t be in any condition to do ya for moths.’
The pedant in her wanted to correct him to months, but mostly, she just wanted out from under. ‘Get off me, or so help me God, I will hurt you.’
‘Tr’it.
He was slurring, but he had sense enough to grab her hands and pin her down. Panic started to well in her head, bile rose in her throat. Her heart was thumping, and she was having trouble breathing. Attempts to pull her hands free of his were futile, her movements just making him groan appreciatively. She stilled, not to waste energy. She had to figure out how to win her way out of this, instead of panicking and losing.
Taking a deep breath, she suddenly realised she wasn’t the only one not moving any more. Frowning, she directed her eyes to Robbins. His head was at her shoulder, but he wasn’t trying to sucker himself to her anymore. His eyes were closed, his lips were slack, and the snore convinced her of what she should have realised. Carefully withdrawing her hands free of his, she rolled him off her.
Standing by the side of the bed, Teddington realised she was shaking like a leaf. For a second, she thought it was fear, but realised it wasn’t. It was relief. He was too big to move, so she grabbed her jumper again and headed for the spare room.
‘I am so, so sorry.’
Scowling at her dishevelled colleague, Teddington plonked a strong black coffee on the counter in front of him. She’d phoned Rose this morning to let her know he’d spent the night at her house, and out had poured the whole sorry story. She’d kicked Robbins out, because she’d thought he was having an affair. Teddington chose not to mention the assignation she’d witnessed.
‘For some reason,’ she told him, ‘your wife’s willing to forgive whatever transgression precipitated the argument.’
Robbins sipped his coffee and smiled. Teddington thought it an unpleasantly smug expression. ‘I’m a lucky man.’
‘Not that lucky,’ she snapped. ‘I’m not so forgiving. What you tried to do—’
‘I know, I’m sorry. Sorta.’
Teddington couldn’t believe it. Her jaw dropped and her brows rose. ‘You’re sorta sorry?’
‘No, no.’ Now, he was frowning through the alcoholic mists. ‘I am sorry, really sorry, but I only sorta know what I did. I was very drunk.’
‘You tried to rape me.’ Thank God he’d passed out, because he’d certainly over-powered her easily enough. If he’d been sober, she wouldn’t have stood a chance. There again, if he’d been sober, he wouldn’t have done it.
He looked appalled and horrified. ‘I am really sorry.’ He reached for her, but she dodged away.
‘Just get out, and be grateful I don’t have to see you again for a couple of days.’
Some days, Piper hated his job. This was one of them.
‘It’s a setup, boss,’ he told the Superintendent. ‘This isn’t right.’
Superintendent Broughton sat squarely, regarding the DCI with steady ease. ‘I know.’
‘Then, don’t ask me to do this.’
Broughton blinked, but remained still and calm. ‘You have to.’
Charlie was sweating with the exertion of digging another patch. Every muscle was pumped, and he knew afterward, he’d be grateful for the ache. It might even help him sleep. Teddington wasn’t on the shift today, and he hoped she took the opportunity to get some rest. He shoved his spade into the dirt one more time and froze when he saw the suited figures moving towards the garden. They were still on the other side of the fence, but he recognised Piper and Carlisle. Like a number of other inmates, he stopped what he was doing and watched as Turner led them into the compound, then let them to the tool shed, where Officer Norman took them inside.
They came out moments later with an evidence bag full of dibbers, then, Piper fixed him with a steely gaze. Charlie felt his stomach tighten. Piper had got his message, but something was wrong. The way he was being watched meant he was about to get dragged into it. Piper and Carlisle were approaching.
‘Turn around,’ Piper ordered. ‘Hands behind your back.’
‘Why?’
‘’Cos you’re under arrest, you murdering scumbag,’ Carlisle snarled.
‘What?!’
‘Turn around,’ Piper repeated. ‘Hands behind your back.’
Charlie didn’t have the vaguest idea what was going on, but he’d be stupid to be anything but cooperative. It wasn’t like he’d get far if he tried to run. He turned around and felt colder than the cuffs, as Carlisle took great delight in tightening them too far and roughly pulling Charlie where he wanted him to go.
Forcibly shoved into the back of the police car
and driven away, Charlie looked back. He’d never expected to be sorry to be driven away from Whitewalk, yet he was.
‘What’s going on?’
But, he didn’t get an answer, so he sat back and waited. The journey to the station was all too familiar to him. He was surprised by the lack of processing when they went in the back, more so, when he realised although it had been said he was under arrest, at no point had he actually been arrested. Failure to read him his rights gave him an instant technicality to get off. It surprised him, because Piper was never this lax. Something was wrong.
He heart hammering, he was part guided, part forced along the corridor to interview room one. The door was yanked open by the tight-featured Carlisle. Charlie stepped through and stopped short. No, it couldn’t be. This made no sense.
‘Teddington?’
Teddington was already there. Sitting alone at a table with four chairs, she stared blindly at the scarred surface. At the call of her name, she looked up at him. She looked awful. So far past terrified, she’d hit calm.
‘Seems we have the same jeweller.’
The mirthless sentence only made sense when she raised her hands to the surface of the table. She was cuffed, too.
‘What the hell is this?’ Charlie demanded of Piper, but Carlisle only pushed him forward, made him sit beside Teddington. Then, Carlisle unlocked one cuff, just to re-shackle him, hands forward this time. Charlie looked around the room. Piper and Carlisle were silent, but anger was unmistakeably written on their faces. He turned to Teddington. She was staring morosely at the handcuffs adorning her wrists.
‘Ariadne?’
‘They’ve got evidence I killed Tommy.’