Life's Fear

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Miss?" one of the cops prompted.

It had been completely silent. My right hand was still holding the door handle from opening it, and my left was loose by my side, though I was sure all my muscles had inadvertently locked up. This was pressure. Anything I could potentially say may have been the wrong thing, but in the moment, I was never good at making good decisions.

One cop was short, but he was thin and looked like he could run long distances. The other was tall with broad shoulders. He appeared thin, though his shirt was quite tight. He had muscle, undeniably. If Jason put up a fight, this cop would be the one to wrestle him to the ground and stabilise him long enough to put cuffs on him and transport him into the cop car to take down to the station. Or would they arrest him on the spot?

"Sorry?" I asked, trying to appear nonchalant with a fake smile momentarily on my lips. I was trying to be polite, but that was hard considering my right hand was aching already from the iron-clad grasp on the door handle.

"Does Jason McCann live here? We have reason to suggest he does."

"Yeah, he does," I replied. "Why do you ask?" Better to be honest, I mused, but ask as many questions as I could whilst they were still calm enough before the storm would come. The storm being Jason, of course.

My mouth was dry, so it was a wonder how I was even articulating words. My right hand was killing me now, but I just couldn't relax my muscles enough to let go of the door handle. It was slightly cold outside, but even that wasn't bothering me with my bare arms... or greasy, bed hair that I'd just remembered about. It was the fact that two cops were standing right opposite me and asking about Jason's place of residence, though they categorically knew he resided here.

It had to be about the vandalisms. It just had to be. But how could they know? Did they find something on the CCTV showing him? He always wears black and he's always careful, but the angle of which either of them could have been at must have showed his face. They knew. They knew it was him and his whole future would be flushed away now because of something admirable he was doing for Scarlett. His sister. His sister who was cooped up in the hospital because she was dying.

"We have reason to believe he is behind the graffiti around Bellmere," the shorter cop explained after the taller one had been silent long enough. He had a higher voice than the taller one, though he was still just as intimidating.

"May we come in?" the taller one said.

The floorboards upstairs began to creak, and Jason came strolling down. Luckily, he had thrown on a random t-shirt this time. He was running a hand through his hair, and I turned back to the cops just in time for them to look at one another before nodding once. "Jason McCann?" the taller one asked.

Stepping up to me, utterly flummoxed though I had a sneaking suspicion this was a rouse and he knew he was about to be caught for the vandalisms, he said, "Yes?"

"We have reason to believe you are behind the vandalisms in the town."

"Reason?" Jason asked, letting a smile curve at his lips. "I think you have the wrong guy. That's really not my thing." His smile almost appeared genuine in politeness, but knowing Jason more than the cops did, I knew he was feigning it and just playing along to be the clueless guy.

"Evidence. If you would like to come down to the station, you are required to make a statement. We would prefer to do things simply rather than use force."

"What about my legal rights?" he demanded. He had ceased channelling the clueless guy role the moment the cops said he needed to make a statement. The smile perished at that moment.

"You are eighteen, therefore you do not need a parent or guardian. However, yes, you need a lawyer, but we can provide one down at the station. The car is right there, McCann. And we're waiting."

Jason didn't move a muscle but instead said, "I'm not going to the station."

The shorter cop sighed.

Without warning, the taller guy stepped into the house and barged through Jason and I. The shorter cop stood still, almost as if he was waiting for his role they'd decided on in the car on the way here. They had been planning out their strategy and had a solution for every wrongdoing that could have transpired. Obviously, this was one of them.

"Shit!" Jason hissed when the cop turned him around by his right arm. He winced and scrunched his face up, though that didn't stop him from commencing to put up a fight.

He struggled as much as he could and all I could do was watch. His face was turning red in rage, and even though he knocked over a couple of things, it didn't deter him from doing whatever he could to the cop, which wasn't much considering the positioning of them two. The taller cop was advantageous at the time.

"What evidence is it?" I asked.

The taller cop began dragging Jason to the car parked out front. I wondered how many of his neighbours saw them pull up and was still watching the commotion occur. Were they hiding behind their curtains and gawking with beady eyes?

Neither of the cops answered me. I needed to know whether it was CCTV or my photograph. It had to have been the CCTV because they'd been reviewing it recently. It only made sense to be the CCTV that had picked him up somewhere, whether it be behind the hospital or not. But this was eating me alive. I was beginning to feel sick with this anticipation, and seeing Jason get hauled away into a police car was not aiding it. As far as I was aware, they had not gotten their hands on my photograph, so it had to be the CCTV.

Attempting to get one-up on the shorter cop whose role had not been revealed yet – I had started to wonder whether he was just for backup – I raced past him, but he put his arms around my waist and held me back. I kicked as much as I could, but being a girl who didn't have much interest in sports, I didn't know what I was doing, and nor did I have the muscle power to do any inflicting damage.

"Why do you think it's him?" I shouted, not wanting to fight against the shorter cop anymore. Despite him being short and thin, he had some muscle to him which I was not anticipating. At all.

But it was killing me to see Jason in this position. Over the road, I could see a man watching us from the lounge. He didn't even have the decency to hide behind the curtains or blinds or whatever the hell he had.

Jason was still putting up as much of a fight as he could, and it was somewhat working, except that the cop was taller than he was and had more muscle to overpower him with. Plus, he had years of experience under his belt. I was sure the only experience Jason was utilising here was sheer instinct or emulating what would happen in a movie or TV series.

"Why do you think it's him?" I demanded louder, my own muscles beginning to hurt from struggling so much. I couldn't bear to think how Jason was feeling, especially with the feeling of being caught and possibly banged up.

"A photograph had been sent to us anonymously with him holding the spray can," the taller cop explained. He seemed a little breathless as he threw Jason against the car so hard that the car actually trembled. Jason tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes. "The girl who sent in the image didn't care enough for disguises, so our CCTV picked her up; we've contacted her, and she'll get back to us."

"The photo doesn't prove I did it," Jason argued, keeping his body still and opening his eyes this time.

The cop protested, "but it's as good as we're going to get, and we're positive that as soon as we book you, the vandalisms will stop." He pulled Jason away from the car. Jason turned around to see my expression, but something dawned on him. Then he was shoved into the back of the cop car. He didn't take his eyes off me.

Jason didn't even question the identity of the girl or what else the photo was. Not even which graffiti it was. Maybe he had a suspicion of an answer to all of them. With me, I knew. I knew all of the answers, and I began to completely lose focus of what was transpiring. The cop began loosening his grip of containing me, though whatever damage I could have done was minimal. My whole body was still. I knew who the girl was.

Max.