AVENGE

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - CASEY SIMPSON

18.

CASEY SIMPSON

Three weeks had passed since that nightmare night in the restaurant. Casey hadn't slept well ever since. He'd even resorted to taking sleeping pills. He couldn't get the image of the little boy taking one of his bullets in the back and falling forwards onto his father. The look on the father's face had said it all before a bullet had grazed his right cheek and forced him to flee. He touched his cheek and felt the scar. He'd told the police he'd burnt himself while messing around when they had come to question him. Whether or not they believed him didn't matter. They had no evidence against him and without that they couldn't touch him. 

He looked up at the sign above his head. 'POLICE', he read. He'd had enough of the guilt. It was eating him inside. It was not only sleep he lacked - he couldn't eat either. He'd lost weight - not that he'd weighed much before. Most of it came from muscle-tone. He used to look after himself. It was all Dwayne's fault anyway. He'd put them all in that position. 

Casey took a deep breath then entered the police station. He walked over to the main desk. The uniformed officer behind it finished what she was writing and looked up. 

"Can I help you?" 

"Yes. I'd like to speak to Officer Maine please." 

"What's it about?" she asked while looking at the duty roster. 

"I need to talk to him about a shooting." 

She looked up from her list, "A shooting. Has someone been shot?" 

"No. Yes. Er, it happened a while ago. Can I please talk to him?" 

"He's out on patrol at the moment. But it sounds like you need a detective. I'll call through for one." 

"No no ... please. I need to talk to Officer Maine." 

Her eyes narrowed, "I can't just pull him back in. You can talk to the detective and he'll be able to help." 

Casey sighed and shrugged, "Okay then. But I won't give him any details. I'll only tell Officer Maine." 

She picked up the phone and waited for a few seconds, "Yes. Could you get Detective Mulraine to come to the front desk please. There's a young gentleman here to see him about a shooting - thanks." She put the phone down, "Could you please take a seat. He'll be with you shortly." 

Casey looked behind him and saw a row of empty seats. He walked over and sat, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He closed his eyes. Why did I come here? he thought. He lowered his chin to his chest and linked his fingers behind his head. No ... no I can't do this, he opened his eyes and stood. 

The door that led into the station opened and a tall man with black, greying hair and a moustache walked through. He was dressed in a black suit and wore a navy coloured tie, "Mr?" 

Casey looked at him and said, "Simpson. Casey Simpson." 

"Hello Mr Simpson. My name's Detective Mulraine. Would you follow me please," he walked back over to the door and typed in a code then opened it. He held out his arm indicating the open doorway. 

Casey stepped through and waited for the detective to lead the way. 

"This way Mr Simpson," he walked past two doors on his left and opened a door on his right. Casey walked inside and looked back round as the detective closed it behind him. 

"Please sit." 

Casey sat in the chair provided and Detective Mulraine walked round the other side, sitting himself, "So Mr Simpson. What can you tell me?" 

"Nothing. I already told the lady. I'll only talk to Officer Maine." 

"Officer Maine is a patrolman. He's a front-line soldier - so to speak. He doesn't do detective work," Detective Mulraine tapped his own chest. "That's me." 

"Look Mr Mulraine." 

"Detective," he corrected. 

"I only trust Officer Maine. I've dealt with him before. I don't know you," Casey went silent. 

"Officer Maine isn't available right now," he waited for some response. 

Casey remained silent. 

"Look - if this is about a recent shooting it can be only one possible case and your name sounds familiar." 

Casey remained silent. 

"If you've got any information or anything to confess then tell me." 

There was a knock on the door. 

"Come in," called Detective Mulraine. 

The door opened and a uniformed policewoman entered, "The files you asked for." 

"Thanks." 

She left. 

Detective Mulraine started leafing through the files then looked up at Casey, "You are mentioned in here. Your name, along with a few others, was mentioned by Officer Maine as possible suspects. But he isn't handling this case. I am. So any information you have - give it to me." 

Casey remained silent. 

Detective Mulraine sat back, "Fine. You won't talk to me. I'll get Officer Maine to come back in. You stay here." 

"Am I under arrest?" 

"What for?" 

"I don't know." 

"No. You're free to go any time you want. But you wanted to see Officer Maine didn't you." 

"Yes." 

"Then stay here while I organise it. Do you want a drink while you're waiting?" 

"Beer'd be lovely." 

"Very funny." 

"Tea or coffee please." 

"Milk and sugar?" 

"Black with one thank you." 

Detective Mulraine left the room. 

Casey looked around. There were no mirrors in here. It had just the one door. Four beige coloured walls. A desk with a tape machine on it - which they'd no doubt be using later when he started giving evidence. And a window that looked outside. 

He started drumming his fingers on the table.

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