The Box

The Box - Part 7

Olivia's eyelashes fluttered open to reveal an unexpected environment. Sun streamed through vertical blinds and a television played in front of the bed she lay in. The room was white, sterile and as she raised her hand to touch her face she saw a cannula in her arm. Realising she was in the hospital, she laid her head into the soft pillow and closed her eyes. It was over, she was safe.

As her senses awoke from the numbness of sleep, Olivia's ears tuned in to the television. A news broadcaster was chattering excitedly about an incident that had occurred at the docks yesterday. Olivia raised her head wearily, blinking to try and focus on the screen. She felt the tranquilisers still floating around her veins, unable to fully shake off the grogginess. Through her blurred vision, she saw the container ship, now in full daylight, sitting at its place in the dock. An ambulance was driving away, leaving police cars and a private ambulance to deal with the dead and their witnesses.

The broadcast went on to say that they had few details, but that a woman was found in the sea last night, having apparently escaped from an unknown male on the ship. A body had been removed early this morning and the police would give a statement later today. An appeal for witnesses made Olivia realise that she would most likely be interviewed as soon as they knew she was awake. She glanced nervously at the door, not yet ready to relive the experience. The news reader promised more details as the day progressed. Olivia wanted to hide away forever; she wanted to go home and pick up the pieces of her life, she wanted things to be as they were. She wanted everything she knew she couldn't have.

As tears of self-pity stung her eyes, the door to her room opened with a soft swish. A plain-clothed detective stood in the doorway and for a second, Olivia saw James' smiling face greeting her. Rubbing her eyes, she looked again to see a tall man in a suit, a look of sympathy and determination filling his eyes as he moved towards her, eyes locked onto hers. He said his name was Detective Constable Ross, though the introduction was unnecessary as he oozed the force; if he'd been FBI, Olivia would have expected to see a black saloon in the car park.

His eyes were gentle and warm, much like his hand as he shook Olivia's before taking a seat. She sensed that he was shedding the intimidation hat for today, eager not to cause any kind of anxiety. She eyed the call button and looked pointedly at the detective, communicating that in just the flick of a finger, he'd be out on his backside. He blinked and nodded with unspoken understanding.

"How are you feeling?" DC Ross asked, his accentless tone one of concern, though Olivia was yet to determine if it was genuine or not; she was back to trusting no-one.

"I'll live," she answered with a shrug.

The detective smiled, showing unnaturally white teeth. A set of keys he held in his fingers showed a Jaguar logo, the silver face of the big cat roaring menacingly. What kind of detective has expensive dental work and drives a Jag?

"Where did you say you were from?" She added with a frown.

"I work for the Met," he clipped.

"The Metropolitan Police? As in London? The city a hundred miles from here?" Her sarcasm wasn't lost on him.

"Actually, it's more like eighty miles. I see you didn't suffer any brain damage in the incident."

"No, I don't believe so. I also don't believe we are in your jurisdiction."

DC Ross rolled his eyes briefly and showed a lopsided smile, an endearing dimple appearing on his right cheek.

"Well, it seems you're feeling much better and able to talk about what happened?"

"I didn't say that," Olivia snapped. "I want to know what you're doing here. From London? Are there no local DCs available or something? Is there that much crime around here that they're all off solving murders and have to call you guys to come and help?" She had just escaped from one of the largest docks in the country, but it was certainly not part of the Greater London area.