Chimera | H.S Mature

32.

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*Samantha's POV*

"So, is everyone clear on the plan then?" Parsons asked, this thick brows raised in question as he scanned the room. A series of nods and murmurs was all that he was offered before the room fell silent once more. From beside me, a young officer sighed softly and crossed his arms over his chest, slouching down in his seat and stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Good, we will congregate in the rear parking lot in an hours' time, make sure everything is prepared and ready for an immediate departure. This will be a quick job, it is likely the suspect won't be expecting our arrival but all the same the element of surprise is key, we don't want him getting wind of what's about to happen and then fleeing before we get our 'ands on him. Understood?" Again a wave of mummers rose and fell away.

"Very well. Dismissed" he said with a final nod of the head. The room was on its feet in moments, a group of casually dressed officer's filed slowly out of the door and dissipated down the hall, quiet conversations being shared as they disappeared. I sighed and rested my elbows on my knees and placed my head in my hands. My eyes were burning with exhaustion, my head felt heavy and full of so much information that I found it difficult to form a complete thought. My arms and legs felt heavy from lack of sleep and from across the room, Parsons heavy stare was only serving to increase the pressure that was slowly crushing my body.

"It'll be over soon Samantha" he said with as much encouragement as he could muster from his hardened voice. I nodded into my hands. For 3 days we had been planning the raid on Jacob Stuart's home address. That was three days without sleep, with hardly any food and with my sanity slowly being drained from my body. I had always been on the other side of a raid, I would sit and listen to what needed to be done, absorb all the details and process the outcome when the suspect was brought to the station. But this was much different, I was in charge. I was judge, jury and executioner. I made the plans, I made the preparations, I selected the people to carry out the raid. All Mr Parsons did was address to room of collected officers when I turned white at the prospect. I felt sick with anticipation.

Parsons sighed and shuffled across the room, taking one of the chairs in the row in front and turning it around so that when he sat he was looking at my pale face.

"This will get easier" he said softly, placing both hands on his knees and assessing me with soft eyes.

"Will it?" I asked lamely, lifting my gaze to meet his. He sighed but nodded.

"It's overwhelming, I know, being in charge of all this for the first time. Having all the control and, if everything goes wrong, all the blame". I recoiled at his words but he failed to notice. "But it will get easier. You will develop a numbness to it all. This man, whoever he is, has done a terrible thing, and he needs to be brought to justice".

"But what if it wasn't him?" I asked, voicing the very doubt that had been eating away at my thoughts for the past 3 days, "what if he didn't do it and all this has been for nothing?"

"It's best to have a wrong suspect than no suspect at all" he said gently. I let out a deep breath through my nose and looked away. Despite his attempts to comfort me, the pressing doubt that had settled in the pit of my stomach was beginning to drive me mad. My sub-conscious was screaming that there was something not right, that I was missing something so glaringly obvious it should smack me in the face, but still nothing of any use could be drawn from my scattered mind, so I pushed the doubt away and kept my face blank.

"We have some time before we need to meet again, why don't you take a break? Have a coffee, sit in your office and just relax for a while and I'll meet you in the parking lot in 45 minutes, alright?" He said softly. I nodded and rose without another word, making my way to the door and slipping into the hallway as Parsons returned his chair back to its place. The floor was quiet, open doors revealing a series of empty offices and the lack of background noise doing little to distract me. It was a Saturday, 3 weeks after Daniella first arrived in Scotland Yard, tear stained cheeks and wide frightened eyes, and still I had nothing more to offer her now than I did then. A name was useless to her until he had been found guilty, but still she seemed at least pleased that some progress was being made on her behalf.