22
Staring at my reflection in the rear-view mirror, I brush my fingers through my hair, attempting to tame the wild strands. It’s not working. I look tired and haggard and my shirt smells – the sweat dried in the pits staining a faint yellow. There’s not much I can do about it now. I have a spare uniform in my locker.
I walk into the station, sticking to the walls, attempting to remain invisible. I need to make it through this day, collect my thoughts and find a place to sleep tonight. But even as I try to escape to the bathroom, Williams is there. He looks me up and down. There is something like contempt in his eyes. Or maybe it’s disgust. The judgement irks me. Has he looked at himself lately?
“You look like shit.”
“Maybe I’m a mirror.”
He scoffs, but barely. “Tom needs to see you in his office.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there.” I try to sidestep him, but he steps with me, blocking my way.
“It’s urgent.”
“It’s never urgent.” I try to step again, but he doesn’t budge.
“This time it is.” His face is set, all the soft roundness gone, replaced by angry edges.
I sag as the last of my resilience leaves my body. “Okay, let’s go.”
Tom doesn’t offer me a seat as I walk in. His eyes narrow, his expression solemn, his mouth carved into a tight line across his face. Williams doesn’t leave the room. I watch him over my shoulder. He’s blocking the door.
“You wanted to see me?”
He nods; it’s curt and cold and unlike him at all. “Someone has come forward.”
A chill runs through me as I wonder which of my recent misdeeds has been noticed. I know it’s not Derek. He is still tucked into his bed at the hospital, his memory all but wisps of smoke. I remain quiet and still. When I don’t speak for a few beats, he shifts in his seat as if he’s disappointed I haven’t given a full confession. The thing is, I don’t know which of my crimes he wants me to confess to.
“The charges are serious, and I am afraid that given the grievous nature of the accusation, I am going to have to suspend you – with pay – for now – until we get it all sorted out.”
“What are you talking about? What charges?”
“You will need to hand in your ID, radio, baton and car keys.”
“Tom—”
“Don't make this more difficult than it has to be.” Williams takes a small step forward behind me. I don’t see it, so much as sense it. His shadow is large and dark and closes around me.
“What are the charges?”
“Your things, Sergeant.” His voice is formal and sharp, any friendliness that might once have been there has vanished.
I rip my ID from my top pocket and pull out the baton from my belt, setting both on his table. Next, I fish my keys from my pocket and fling them down. They land with a heavy clank. “How the fuck am I meant to get home?” But as the words leave my mouth it fills with a sour taste that curdles my gut.I have no home.
“It will be a few hours until we finish the inquiry. I’m sure one of the boys will drop you at your home when we’re done.”
Williams doesn’t volunteer.
The chief eyes my things and picks up his phone. He dials an extension and we wait in silence. “Come in.” he speaks to the voice on the other end of the line and hangs up abruptly.
A few minutes later there’s a knock at the door and one of the lab geeks walks in. He doesn’t greet me. He’s wearing gloves and has an evidence bag in his hand. Reaching for my baton, he secures it in the bag. Tom hands him my keys. “The car is parked outside, unit 23.” He nods and leaves without another word. A trickle of panic quivers inside me.
“She’s lying.” I slip up and bite my tongue. Tom’s eyes snap to mine and his shoulders square.
“Don’t say anything more,” he warns me and nods towards Williams, who comes to stand closer again.
“Williams here will escort you to interview room five.”