by Steve Hester
CHAPTER 19
The last hour had passed in a numbing blur. Rob had been bundled into the back of the waiting police car and they had set off for the station. Either through recent budget cuts or relocation, Stockport police station had been closed down for several months now so they'd headed onto the A6 and up to Longsite where a cosy cell was waiting for him.
The journey there took just under twenty minutes but as far as Rob was concerned it might as well have been hours. Word had reached Keenan and Mirran that Jason had been pronounced dead after being picked up by the ambulance outside his house and the news had hit Rob with the cold force of a slab of concrete.
They'd tried to ask him questions and they'd assumed that his silence was so as not to incriminate himself but as far as he was concerned their voices were coming from a long way away and muffled. He just stared down at the floor in the car, torturing himself by replaying the night in his head. The only thing he was dimly aware of was the ache in his shoulders and the way the handcuffs were chaffing him behind his back.
When they'd arrived at the station he'd been searched and booked in, his meagre belongings taken and logged before he'd been taken into a room in the back. He'd provided a breath sample as well as a blood sample and then, because of the crash, he'd been examined by a doctor. Throughout it all the officers had been asking what he'd taken tonight. Had he been drinking? Had he taken any drugs?
His mouth seemed to have stopped working and a doctor who'd been on call visiting another prisoner had examined him and said it was most likely shock but regardless they'd taken his clothes for evidence, given him a bright blue jump suit and dumped him in a cell till they could start the questioning.
The only thing he'd managed to say at all was when the duty officer asked if he had anyone he'd like them to call. He'd barely been able to say 'mum'.
There was still no answer from home and without his mobile they couldn't get her number so they just left a message.
Now Rob was sat on the bunk in his cell. The bed was a solid concrete block with a thin, wipe clean blue foam mattress on it that offered the same level of comfort as a railroad spike. He looked over into the corner and watched a spider as it started to build a web. He was starting to feel like a fly.
The minutes stretched on and started to feel like aeons. The hatch was opened briefly and a pair of middle-aged eyes stared at him for a few moments.
“Is this him?” asked the owner of the eyes.
A female voice from the other side said “Yes.”
The hatch went back up and Rob was left alone with his thoughts again.
On the other side of the hatch Superintendent Mark Lovell stood in thought, rubbing his fingertips together.
“Interview room three will be free in about twenty minutes or so.” said Sarah. “Should be able to get something out of him but he's hardly said much since we brought him in.”
Lovell scratched at his slowly sagging, fifty-six year old cheek.
“Any idea why?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nope, the call came over the radio for us that his friend was pronounced DOA while he was in the car. I'd say either the doctor is right and he's in shock or he's realised how much trouble he's in and isn't in a mood to co-operate.”
Lovell nodded. “You hungry Sarah?”
She thought about this for a moment. “I'm not sure, sir. Not had anything since lunch but I'm alright.”
“Well I'm starving. Come on.”
He led her off out of the cells and upstairs to the main offices of the police station, making small talk as he went.
“Wife's doing this bloody Atkins diet again.” He said. “House is full of leafy veg and meat. Not a bad mix but I keep gasping for a plate of chips! She won't allow potato in the house anymore.”
They entered the canteen, which even at this time of night, was still ready with hot food for officers coming on and off shift. A few, both uniformed and plain clothed, were dotted here and there. Some were sat in groups lost in conversation amongst themselves while others were sat on their own reading case notes or the newspaper. A few nodded as the Superintendent and Keenan entered.
Lovell picked a tray up from the end of the counter and walked his way along, eying the food hungrily. Most of it had been there for a while; the lasagne in particular had slightly solidified and developed a crust that would probably have broken the teeth of any unwary diner. He settled in the end for a meat and potato pie along with a big mound of chips that looked by far and away the freshest things on the menu before paying at the till. Sarah just settled for a cheese and ham sandwich that looked like it hadn't been sweating in its triangular plastic box too long.
“So what's his story?” said Lovell as they sat down.
“The little we got out of him doesn't make a whole lot of sense. He said the car was driving itself. Could be a break problem, maybe someone tampered with them but we won't know until forensics brings it back for a thorough exam in the morning.”
Lovell nodded while munching away on the pies crust.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I don't buy it, not given how far he travelled. There were bushes, hedges, all sorts along his route he could have ditched into plus there's the business with the man he hit.”
“We had any report from the morgue about him yet?”
“Not yet,” she said, pulling out her sandwich, “Jack's on the phone to the hospital now.”
She bit into the pathetic thing in her hands and stopped after a few chews. It was exactly what she had been expecting. After some effort she swallowed and put the rest of the sandwich back into the box.
Lovell watched her for a moment and turned his plate round so the chips were facing her.
“It's why I go for the hot stuff. Help yourself.”
Sarah looked visibly relieved and picked up a chip. After the sandwich it was manna from heaven. The Superintendent leaned back in his chair.
“I've seen that look on you before. You've got some doubts haven't you?” He said.
“Doesn't make sense to me. The victim, Jason Walker, was having a party tonight. One of his neighbours called in a complaint about the noise and the behaviour of some of the guests so uniform went over and got them to have a word. They found drugs and shut it down but one of them remembers talking to Stokes at the party. According to him when he arrived the two were looking quite chummy and Stokes said at the time that the two of them have known each other for at least 8 years so why would he mow him down?”
They both went in for another chip from the rapidly diminishing pile.
“Not the first time friends have killed each other, won't be the last.” Said Lovell. “It could have been for any reason. Maybe he was on something that didn't kick in until after uniform left or it could have been money or a woman. Wrong word at the wrong time and suddenly they want to bash each other head in. I've seen it before. Married couple in the first flushes of love. One finds out the other has been seeing someone else, or even THINKS they have, and next thing you're wading into a kitchen ankle deep in blood.”
He chewed for a moment, savouring the taste of the greasy, crispy potato in his mouth.
“What did the breathalyser say, anything?”
“Not a thing.” said Sarah. “Uniform said the party had been going on for a couple of hours by the time they got there so he must have been putting a few away. We got a sample of his blood. Thought he'd kick up a fuss but he just sat there. It's going to be analysed but if he did take anything I can't tell. Seems pretty lucid.”
She started to stare into the middle distance. Lovell watched her for a few moments.
“Something's playing on your mind isn't it?” he said. “Something more than toxicology screenings and motive?”
She suddenly looked up, snapping out of her daydreaming.
“Go on, what you thinking?” he said.
“The car.”
Now it was his turn to look puzzled.”The car? What about it?”
&nbs
p; “It was a wreck, I mean a total wreck! Roof was sheared off and it was banged up to hell but that was before the crash. SOCO said it flipped through the air and rolled several times before coming to a stop. It's the kind of crash you shouldn't walk away from.”
“And that's what's bothering you? That he walked away from it?” asked Lovell.
“No. Well... Yes and no. I can believe he walked away from it somehow but...”
“Go on Sarah.”
She scrunched up her face slightly. She was trying to work out the best way to put it all into words.
“He doesn't have a mark on him at all.”
Lovell grinned as he lent back in his chair again.
“That doesn't mean much.” He said. “I've seen people in accidents come out with only a few scratches...”
“No, that's not what I mean!” said Sarah interrupting. “There's NOTHING. No scratches, no cuts, no bruising, no sign of any breaks, fractures, internal problems, anything! His clothes are torn and have blood on them and I'm going to guess it's his but his body doesn't seem to be damaged in any way.”
Lovell frowned. This was a first for him. She was right, especially with auto accidents there is always damage to the people in the vehicles, even if it's just a few scratches or a touch of whiplash. At the bare minimum there would be bruising, if only where the seatbelt dug in. For there to be nothing at all was very, very strange.
He was trying to wrack his brains for a similar case from his past when the double doors to the canteen burst open. Jack Mirran did a quick sweep of the room, clocking the officers with forks in their mouths and confused expressions before he saw his partner and his boss.
“Been looking for you everywhere!” he said marching over to them. “We have a problem!”
“Calm down Jack!” said Lovell. “What's wrong?”
He took a few breaths, his cheeks slightly flushed with the exertion of running up the stairwell near the canteen.
“The body’s gone.” he said.
Sarah and the superintendent shared a glance.
“What do you mean 'gone'? Are you talking about Jason Walker?” She asked.
“Yeah, just been on the phone with the hospital. The body’s gone and the pathologist who was assigned to it, Dr. Barry, has been found in the lab. Poor sods been whacked good and proper.”
“Oh shit...!” whispered Sarah. “Is he..?”
“He's fine. Well mostly. One of the lab techs came back from a food run and found him, got him over to the A&E department. He's still groggy and doesn't remember much but he's alive.”
She leant forward and held her head in her hands. She'd only met the doctor a couple of times but he seemed a nice enough guy, certainly not the sort to be beaten up in his own lab.
“Oh but it gets worse.” said Jack.
“Worse how, Jack?” asked Lovell.
He sat down on the spare seat next to his partner.
“After they found the doc they called us to report the attack and I asked them to check the CCTV. Guess who was caught leaving the lab?”