Love & Hate Series Box Set 2 (3-4) - In Too Deep - Skimming the Surface

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Love & Hate Series Box Set 2 (3-4) - In Too Deep - Skimming the Surface Page 23

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz


  I keep saying to myself that this is just some kind of cruel joke. Rose, that girl from my past, Josh’s former girlfriend. How could I not recognise her? How could I not see her beyond the tattoos, dyed hair and piercing?

  I get outside and keep taking oxygen into my lungs. There is a good chance that I’m going to throw up.

  Two female students are staring at me as I keep walking away. Once I’m inside my car, I draw in a deep breath, letting it out slowly until I’m in control of my resentment and anger. Love—I thought I loved her, but I was fooling myself. She is a murderer, someone who enjoys inflicting pain on others. Suranne Wallace must have discovered Tahlia’s past. She must have found out that Tahlia had something to do with Steph’s murder. I slept with her, I told her stuff about myself, about my past, and all this time she was hiding the truth.

  There are so many unanswered questions, so many loose ends. It’s just the beginning of the real nightmare, because I’m the one that has to take her into custody, and she has to confess, tell me exactly what happened that night. First I need to submit the case to CPS and get that damn warrant. Clarke will back me up once he sees the whole picture.

  It takes me a while to start the car and drive off; I’m furious, shaking all over. I head to the station straight away. It’s late. Clarke and Rogers have probably already had gone home; it’s that time of the day. People greet me when I walk in, oblivious to the fact that I’m just about to solve a murder case that I’ve been toying with for weeks. I storm back to the main conference room. The numbness is still holding me back, and I feel like in the past weeks I have been lost in a thick fog, following a sadistic, manipulative creature that destroyed my life. The truth is that I don’t have any evidence that links her to Steph’s murder, but I know that she was somehow involved. She almost confessed it to me all those years ago on my doorstep.

  I start setting up all the evidence on the table in the main room. I write Tahlia’s name on the board and connect it to her real name. I drag my hand over my face, pushing the good memories away. Half an hour later, the door opens and Rogers walks in. I sent him a quick text, telling him to get his arse to the station ASAP.

  “Micah, what the hell is going on? Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?” he asks, looking around, disorientated.

  “Call Clarke and tell him that I have nailed the murderer of Suranne Wallace,” I say, not recognising my own voice.

  “Okay, hold on. What do you mean that you nailed her and why is Sanderson’s name on the board?” he asks. Clarke must not know that I have been sleeping with her for weeks. If she says anything I will deny it, or whatever. I can’t be worrying about this now.

  Rogers starts pacing around, shaking his head when I tell him about my uneventful time in London.

  “She changed her name? But why and how did you find out?”

  “I broke into her apartment earlier. I didn’t find anything specific in London apart from that one photo. Until an hour ago I was convinced that she was innocent, and then I found her birth certificate.”

  “Fuck, Micah. You broke in? You know that will go against you in court. What if she disappears tonight with all the evidence?” he asks.

  “She won’t. She doesn’t suspect anything. We just need to get the warrant and search her house. She has Suranne’s bloodied hoodie under her bed; her surname is written on the back. I saw it with my own fucking eyes. We will talk to CPS and Clarke tomorrow morning, and they will give us a go-ahead. Right now I’m exhausted. I need to get some sleep and I suggest you to do the same, because tomorrow we will have our hands full,” I say, staring at the board.

  “And what if she talks, tells that you two were lovers?”

  “I’ll deny it, whatever. She won’t. Tahlia has been guarding her privacy for so long. She won’t say anything about me and her.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  I know that Rogers doesn’t believe that everything could be this easy. We discuss other details a bit longer and then we both head out. The rest of the evening I feel restless, and I can’t stop thinking about all the time that I spent with Tahlia. It fucking hurts to know that our short romance was all pretense, one huge fucking lie. I finally know what real grief feels like. Burning guilt rips me apart, because I should have tried harder to grieve for Steph, instead of isolating myself, becoming a zombie in a human body.

  Tomorrow Tahlia will face the truth and she won’t believe that I’m betraying her like this. She will scream and swear, but in the end of the day all the evidence points to her and I’m only doing what I have to do.

  ***

  “Does she suspect anything? Have you checked if she’s still in her flat?” Clarke asks for the fifth time, pacing up and down the office, looking tense. His face is red again.

  We are wasting valuable time. I need to make a phone call to the Crown Prosecution Service. We need a warrant, but Clarke needs to agree with me that Tahlia is our main suspect. I want to prove that she was manipulating everyone around her for weeks, even months. She most probably kept the evidence in her flat during the whole time that she was seeing me, so there is no way that she would have moved it last night. She is still oblivious to what’s really going on here.

  “No, sir, I have checked. She hasn’t left her flat since yesterday night,” I say. “I need to present the case to CPS, sir?”

  “Fine, do it. It’s obvious that we need to move fast,” Clarke mutters and then nods, giving me a go-ahead. I go back to the office and start submitting everything electronically. Sweat runs down my face as I work through all the photos, facts and statements. When I press send, I feel like I’m breaking the law, breaking myself.

  All the evidence should be sufficient. There is no doubt that CPS will give us what we need. Rogers and I have been working hard since six o’clock this morning to make sure that everything is in order.

  As soon as I’m done with the emails, I make a phone call. Then it’s just waiting time. The gripping tension builds up in my chest, spreading down to my limbs. I feel the same way as I did after Steph’s death—empty and numb.

  It takes CPS forty minutes to get back to me, but during this whole time I feel like a day has passed. We get the warrant and Rogers pats me on the back, looking pleased.

  A tiny voice in my head tells me that I’m making a mistake, a terrible mistake. This is what I wanted since the moment I discovered the truth; why am I so hesitant all of a sudden? The deal is done. Tahlia is going to prison.

  Rogers goes to Clarke, and I pack everything I need, thinking about Josh. He couldn’t have broken up with her. They were practically inseparable and I don’t believe that he was the man that she ran away from. Josh was challenging, but he wasn’t cruel. We had been friends since childhood. Tahlia confessed that she was in an abusive relationship—she has scars to prove it—but there is a possibility that she lied about that too. Who knows what else she hid away from me?

  “You know the drill, Thomson. Search the flat, find what you need and then read her rights to her,” Clarke says, appearing at the door. He seems a bit more relaxed now; on the contrary, I feel like I’m just about to explode. “If everything goes according to plan, we will call a press conference, so you two need to put together a statement. Good work, Detectives.”

  We agree with the procedure and once Rogers and I are out the door I realise that in about twenty minutes I’ll be facing Tahlia again. Kerry gives me a furious look, probably because I haven’t come over like she expected me to. She can talk to Clarke if she wants to, because at this point I don’t think that I give a damn.

  I brief the team in the boardroom and then lay down the plan of action. Tahlia has never been violent towards me, but I can no longer predict how she is going to react.

  Her betrayal hangs over my shoulders, draining me. When it is time to leave I want to punch myself in the face. Only a second ago I was in the office with Clarke, talking about submitting the case to CPS. This whole thing is happening way too fast. The drive to the cam
pus is short, and the demons from my past are using their claws to rip the last bits of my human soul. I still can’t believe that I’m doing this to her—to myself.

  When we stop right in front of her flat I have to force myself to get out of the car, to fucking go through with this. There isn’t any other way around it. Things will turn ugly. I’ll be that one person she will always remember after today.

  There isn’t any mistake. Tahlia Sanderson is Rose Waltham, the same person that murdered Suranne Wallace.

  The team barges through the main door and I run upstairs, blocking whatever emotions are crumbling inside me. I bang on the door. I hear the steps and then Tahlia opens the door, looking happy, but her smile quickly dissolves when her eyes land on the other people standing behind me. My team barges inside, and she just stands there staring blankly at me.

  “Micah, what are you—”

  “I have a warrant to search your flat,” I cut her off, showing her the papers. Rogers comes back a moment later with the plastic bag. He empties it, and the red hoodie falls on the floor, along with the note. Tahlia opens her mouth, but no sound comes out of her mouth. She looks back at me, completely disorientated.

  “Tahlia Sanderson, you’re under arrest for suspicion of murder of Suranne Wallace. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.” I read her rights while Rogers starts to handcuff her. The rest of the team secures the space. One of the PCs brings a white box, nodding to me. We have everything we need.

  The numbness doesn’t go away, and the sudden pain slips in, reminding me that I’m doing the right thing. She is staring at me with her mouth wide open. She is confused, baffled, like the reality of this situation is not sinking in yet.

  “Micah, this is wrong. I’m not the person that you’re looking for,” she says.

  “Just be quiet,” I say and take over from Rogers. “Let’s go.”

  The guys start moving, while the rest of the team stays behind. They have to make sure that we haven’t missed anything else. I grab Tahlia’s hand and start dragging her away. The contact with her skin is burning mine, but I ignore it.

  We walk down the stairs and she is still talking to me.

  “Micah, please tell me that you didn’t get close to me because I was a suspect. Please tell me that you didn’t lie?”

  “I have done what needed to be done. You were the main suspect all along. I have seen the evidence. Everything is clear Tahlia, or Rose—whatever your name is,” I say mechanically, like a robot, when we get outside.

  “Don’t do this, Micah. You know that I didn’t kill her. Please believe me for the sake of what we had. Someone has set me up. Those things weren’t in my flat a couple of days ago.”

  Other students are staring as I drag her back to the police car, ignoring whatever comes out of her mouth. She turns abruptly, before I let her go, so we are staring at each other. Then I notice that her eyes aren’t grey anymore, but green. She must have worn contacts all the time that we were together. Everything is finally falling into place.

  “It was all pretence, Tahlia,” I hiss.

  “I’ve fallen in love with you, Detective, and that’s not a lie. Nothing will ever change that. I want you to know that from this day onward you’re dead to me,” she adds and then she spits at me.

  For a long moment all I see is hatred, pure and evil hatred that burns right through me. Her words echo in my head, and I don’t do anything, just stand there.

  She loves me? The murderer loves me? That’s impossible.

  “Okay, that’s enough, Miss Sanderson. Let’s go,” Rogers barks and pushes her inside the police car.

  “Micah, you’re driving with Rob,” he hisses at me.

  I don’t know how, but I somehow manage to get into another car, away from Tahlia. Her words are still ringing in my head. I can’t feel any sympathy towards her; however, my heart is shattered. I never thought this could happen again.

  At the station Rogers takes her inside while the reporters are snapping our pictures. The word is already out: we arrested the main suspect, a girl that brightened my life only days ago.

  I walk back, lost and furious with myself. I’m not supposed to feel anything. Tahlia is a murderer. She is going to prison, where she belongs.

  “Detective Thomson, I need a word,” Clarke shouts, calling me to his office. My heart pumps too much blood into my veins, but I need to keep going. The day will be over soon.

  Inside Clarke’s office, there is another guy in a black suit. He has small eyes, a strong jaw, and large bulky arms. Clarke looks baffled, slightly disorientated as he looks through the glass out at the corridors, where Rogers is taking Tahlia’s fingerprints.

  “Micah, this is Detective Lee Mosley, and he is here because of the girl that you just brought up,” my boss says, scratching his chin.

  We both shake hands while I try to appear interested.

  “Detective Thomson, what I’m going to tell you might shock you, but I think it’s necessary due to the circumstances. I normally don’t get involved with homicides, but when my boss called, I thought I should come down and give you an overview of the case from a couple of years ago,” the new guy says.

  “What case? What is he talking about, sir?”

  “Tahlia Sanderson was on the protection programme for over three years. She was rescued from one of the housing estates in London a couple of years ago. Her real name is Rose Waltham. She agreed to testify and for that reason she was given a new identity. At the time her captor was still out there, searching for her,” Mosley states, sighing loudly. “Then two years ago, we were informed that ‘Rudolf,’ her ex, was killed in a shooting. And Tahlia finally had a chance to start over. You need to understand, Detective, that this girl was damaged, beaten, burned, raped for years. She suffered unbelievable abuse at the hands of her sadistic captor. You see, Detective, three years ago you rescued her from that basement where Rudolf had kept her captive for months. When my boss called me today, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was a rather twisted coincidence.”

  His words reach me, but for some reason I don’t want to believe him. Tahlia cannot be that girl from my past, the girl that I promised to protect. She’s the murderer, the person that used me.

  I get up, breathing in and dragging my hand through my hair.

  “No. Impossible. She is not that girl,” I say, almost whispering. Clarke looks down at his feet.

  Mosley works his wide jaw, appearing uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Detective, but she is the same girl that you rescued in London three years ago. I didn’t want to believe that she was involved with such a terrible crime. After she became Tahlia Sanderson, she was sent to Braxton. Her drug smuggling ex-boyfriend was dead, and most of his associates were locked up, so we decided to loosen up her security. My colleague was putting a case together. We wanted to relocate her again after we found out that her roommate was tragically murdered. Unfortunately, it was taking us ages to get any sense from upstairs, to process necessary paperwork. Then this morning, I saw the case that you managed to build against her, and I nearly collapsed. This girl had suffered for many years, she had witnessed stuff that no human being should ever experience. I don’t know what happened. I can only assume that she had hidden her aggression, that urge for revenge. I should have known that there was something wrong when she beat up another girl in London a year ago. She was given a caution and promised to stay out of trouble then. None of us ever suspected that she had anything to do with her roommate’s death. My team was absolutely positive that Tahlia was making progress, finally moving on. It’s such a shame that we failed to see the problem, Detective.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sometimes death is a better choice.

  Mosley keeps talking, but his voice is not getting through to me. I stare blankly at the wall, clenching my fists, as the world around me starts to spin.
Someone is tearing me apart; the demons are pulling me back to the dungeon, and all I feel is dull, sharp pain that spreads everywhere.

  I remember the moment when I found that poor girl, the moment when she jumped on me, begging me not to leave her. She was petrified and for the first time in my life I almost choked on my own tears. My emotions were overwhelming me to the point that I couldn’t function. That day I made a promise to her. I told her that she was safe with me, that I would stay with her until she wasn’t afraid anymore.

  Now all I want to do is scream, roar at the top of my lungs.

  How could fate fuck with my life so much?

  Tahlia can’t be that girl from my past; she is the murderer. The twisted, manipulative girl with a rough upbringing. That’s all there is to it.

  “Excuse me, I need a minute alone,” I manage to choke out and then run to the fucking toilet. In there I throw up everything I have eaten today, until my stomach heaves painfully. Strong, mouthy Micah is falling apart. My perfect life is a lie. Suddenly I can’t cope with thoughts that keep bulldogging my mind, voices reminding me that I’m a fucked-up son of a bitch. Panic and emotional overload are slowly suffocating me, and then I remember that she said she loved me.

  Not anymore.

  I sit on the cold floor until the nausea passes. My head throbs and I can’t seem to remember the past hour. Memories, cruel vivid memories from that day in the basement are rolling in front of my eyes. All this time together and she never said a word, never mentioned the fact that we were connected.

  For three years I have been beating myself over the fact that I didn’t insist on following her, like I promised. Tahlia Sanderson is Rose Waltham, and Rose is the girl that I saved from that rotten, cold basement.

  I get out and look at my face in the mirror. At first I don’t recognise myself. The guy that stares back at me is pale, with sullen cheeks and a haunted look in his eyes. It’s not me. I sink to the floor again.

 

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