Trust In Love

Suspected

"Actually, Mr Hiddleston, we know EXACTLY who's responsible. He's left his calling card. " Detective Constable Rachel Wallander smiled wryly. "I'm afraid ruining your rug was his big mistake. He makes a habit of it. DNA tests will prove it, but in the meantime? We'll pick him up. The only weird thing about all this is why it's so specific. Usually, he just picks on random houses. Bit of an idiot to be honest. Never done a days work in his life."

Tom was sitting in the midst of the kitchen debris, filling in a form as she spoke. He looked up, and she nodded. "Yep, always the same, eh? I know we shouldn't judge. You never know what drives some people, but Terry? Terry has been a wrong-un since school. Small time until now, though, just a bit of intimidation here, petty shoplifting there, maybe a mugging - unarmed - now and again. We just can't seem to get through to him that there are other ways to make a living." she sighed. "Don't think we'll ever see him out of jail for more than a couple of months at a time."

She picked up the witness statement form and nodded. "Great, thanks for doing that. Makes it better all round to do it here. I don't want you having to endure a circus down the station. So," she scanned the contents over again. "You mentioned a ... Jennie Gardiner... " she looked at him intently but professionally. "First date, eh? Know her well?"

Tom was puzzled "well enough to want to go to dinner with her." he smiled politely, trying not to bristle at the inference. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing, we'll just need to contact her to corroborate you were with her. I know it sounds horrible, but it's to make sure this..." she waved her hand around, "isn't some kind of scam. You have NO idea, Mr Hiddleston. Really. " she pocketed the statement and put on her jacket, back into Police mode with a capital P. "Ok, I'll head off now. They made everything ok on the window?" she looked across at the delightful piece of MDF now imitating a window pane, and Tom nodded as he stood.

"Yes, thanks. Thanks for everything."

Walking with her to the door, he paused, "Will... will you pick him up this... Terry?" she nodded."Will you pick him up tonight?"

Rachel nodded, checking her watch. "Hmm, so that's what, 2.30am? We've probably got him already. As soon as our CSI saw the rug, they let us know. He'll be comatose at home, probably drunk the proceeds of whatever he got for...." she stopped, realising she was about to be monstrously tactless. "Sorry. That was insensitive." Tom patted her arm.

"It's ok, after tonight? I doubt there is much that could make me feel any worse."

He had NO idea.

Terry Anderson was one of life's career criminals. Prison was just an occupational hazard and the odd night in custody at the local nick? Merely a good way to save on the heating bills. Tonight was no exception. As he lay on the thin blue plastic covered mattress, he stared at the ceiling. He really didn't care he'd been caught. It was going to be worth every minute at His Majesty's Pleasure. She'd had it coming for a LONG time. And this way? He could humiliate that smug git Hiddleston at the same time. Two for one, didn't get much better, really.

Jennifer. Jennifer Gardiner. The woman all this was aimed at. He wanted to destroy her every bit as much as she had destroyed him. Well, not him exactly. His Dad. Working for the bank, she'd been the one to sign the foreclosure notice on the garage. So what they hadn't paid their mortgage for two years. Times were hard. Neither had a lot of people. His Dad was just another small man in a large sea of debt. But she'd been a cow. Refused them any more money.

His Dad had drunk himself into an early grave. Bitter and in no small amount twisted, he'd blamed Jennie for all his problems. Not the dodgy dealing, not the cavalier attitude to repaying the loans. Defaulting on the mortgage? A mere hiccup and certainly wasn't going to blame his darling son, to whom he wanted to leave his self-proclaimed empire. No. As he faded into oblivion, he made it quite clear. It was Jennie to blame. Now, it was up to Terry to make amends.

Now, 8.30 am the next morning, and a sleepless night later, he had no compunction to do the right thing. Oh no, this was payback. With a capital revenge.

The harsh overhead light had made sleep impossible if he'd even wanted it. As he counted the cracks for the umpteenth time in the fireproof ceiling tiles, that reminded him of nothing more than concrete sponge, the door scraped open and in walked DC Wallander, carrying a sheaf of papers in a manilla folder. Terry instantly recognised it as a charge sheet and evidence. He didn't care. He had a plan. He swung his legs over the side of the meagre sleeping platform and sat up, smug smile plastered on his face.

"Hello darlin, nice to see ya again. You was just a plod the last time I was here, love. Sleepin' with the right sort these days, eh?" he was nothing if not singularly true to his own self. A disgusting misogynistic bully. But like all bullies? Corner them, and they wilt. Rachel ignored every word.

"Come this way, Terry." she refused give him the respect of calling him Mr Anderson, no matter WHAT the inspector had told her. She stood back, and he shuffled forwards, smiling in her face, revealing his brown and rotten teeth and revolting breath. She blanched but didn't react. He shrugged and walked on, knowing from his many previous visits, exactly where the interview room was.

Rachel walked behind him. Terry was always a revolting individual, but usually? A pathetic shell of a man. Today? He was something else. Cocksure.... that was it. Not the best adjective, but exactly right. It was as if they were actually doing him a favour. As she entered the room, Terry sat opposite with the court appointed solicitor. A weasley little man, all glasses and dripping sinuses.

"My client strongly objects to this wholesale accusation without evidence. If you're going to charge him, show me the evidence and get on with it."

"Now now Mr Purves, you know me better than that? No evidence? Please...." she sat down and pressed the record button on the machine sitting on the table.

"Interview with Terence Anderson, DC Wallender and Iain Purves in attendance. The time is 8.35am, " she sat back. "So Terry, why did you vandalise Tom Hiddlestons house? Why did you take his TV and the family heirloom watch? Not your style. Well, apart from the rug?" She screwed up her nose at the last comment.

Terry sat back smugly, side eyed his solicitor, then crossed his arms. "No comment." He grinned, and Rachel rolled her eyes. "For the tape, Rachel just rolled her eyes," he added with a smirk. Rachel frowned.

Slapping open the folder, she extracted a photo and a lab report. "This. MR Anderson is quite literally your calling card. And THIS is the lab report proving it. Still nothing to say?"

The solicitor leaned over and whispered in his ear. Terry paused, weighing up the advice, then smiled.

"Ok. I was there."

"Now we're getting somewhere." She made a few notes. "So, from the grafitti, you knew it was Mr Hiddlestons' house. Why target him? And how did you know where to find him?"

Now Terry felt happier than he had in years. This was the moment.

"I was given the information. By someone who approached me. Promised me the contents would make it worth my while. All I had to do was scribble a few words and smash a few bits. Easy money." He wanted to draw this out. Make a scene.

"By whom?" She leaned forward. This was so unlike him. This was a new Terry.

"Oh, you're gonna love this, darlin. Tommy boy is gonna love this." He crowed, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back. Purves nodded without looking at his client.

Terry looked her square in the face and leaned towards the tape recorder. "Jennifer. Jennifer Gardiner gave me the address. She is every bit as guilty as me."

You could have heard a pin drop.