A New Year's Kiss (BoyxBoy)

22. Hit and Run

Sergeant Peter Hamilton

I looked at the clock on my desk. 7.55pm. Great. I only had 5 minutes of my shift left and there had been no major incidents. Luck was on my side it would seem.

I reached in my drawer and pulled out the little jewellry box that had been sat in their for the last 2 weeks.

It was my 20th wedding anniversary today and I had booked a nice little Italian restaurant which I had read a good review about in the newspaper last week, and I had bought my wife the sapphire ring I'd seen her admiring in the jewellers a few months ago.

Everything was planned and it would be perfect. I owed her that. I looked at a picture of my wife and son that was sitting on my desk. Jack, my son, had left for university 2 years ago, and Emma, my wife was still feeling his loss. It was for this reason that I needed to make tonight special for her. That and the fact I was a lousy husband.

Well maybe that was being a little harsh on myself, but I often felt I deserved it. You see, when you are a sergeant of a busy district, you sort of end up married to the job. I can't even begin to guess the number of times I let my wife down because of some emergency that had cropped up. And my son too. He was less sympathetic.

But my wife, well she was a saint to put up with me. On her 40th birthday, I left her sitting in a restaurant for 2 hours waiting for me to arrive. Unfortunately I had no signal where I had been called out to, and eventually I had to send a patrol car to pass on a message that I wouldn't be able to make it. Needless to say, my poor wife was humiliated, not only to have been stood up on her birthday, but to also be seen leaving with a uniformed police officer, like she'd been arrested!

Yes I owed her. Because she always forgave me.

I loved my job, and I know it sounds cliched but I really did feel like I was making a difference.

Everytime I let my wife or son down, I would tell them that it was only because I was having to be there for someone else. Someone who maybe didn't have any family of their own, or even worse, someone who had just lost their entire family. I was both a comforter and provider. I comforted those who'd suffered a loss, and I provided some closure when I caught the person who'd caused that loss.

Someone knocked on my office door, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Come in" I said.

It was PC (Police Constable) Darren Jackson. He was fairly new to the job and often liked reassurance for any decisions he had to make.

"Sorry to disturb you Sir..."

I smiled to myself, as he always opened every sentence the same way...

"...but a young man has just come into the station saying he's run over his best friend."

I looked at Darren for a few seconds.... "....And.....?" I said, not unkindly.

Darren flushed a little. He was always trying to impress but rarely succeeded. I wasn't worried. He was new at the job, and it just took time.

"And he's drunk as anything, and possibly high too."

I sighed, trying not to let my frustration show.

"Has there been any report of a RTA or hit and run?"

"Not yet Sir" Darren replied.

"Then throw him in the cell overnight to sober up. If there's a patrol car near by, get them to go and see if the can find his car. If there's a witness to him driving then great, if not, just let him go in the morning with a stern word."

"Ok, thanks Sir" and off Darren went.

I looked at the clock. Time to go. I put on my jacket and was about to walk out of the door when I realised I'd left my car keys in my desk drawer. I hurried back to get them. As I shut the drawer my office door was flung open.

I turned round to see PC Philippa Jones. She was my most experienced officer and the one I relied on the most. I suspected it wouldn't be long before she started moving her way up the ranks.

"Bad news" she said.

I felt my heart sink. She knew about my plans for tonight. And she also knew how important it was that I kept to my plans.

I flopped back onto my chair and sighed. "Go on, what is it then?"

"We've just had a report in of a hit and run on Bleaker Street, opposite the Off Licence. It's not looking good. Apparently there is severe trauma to the guy's head and he's in intensive care."

I frowned a little. Maybe this wasn't so bad. After all, there was a good chance we already had the perpetrator. Maybe I would only be a bit late this time.

"Ok, do we know if this matches what the other guy said about running over his best friend? Do we think it's the same incident?"

"More than likely" Sarah replied. "But I think there's one other thing you should know Sir."

I looked at her expectantly.

"The guy who handed himself in earlier - it was Jay Harper Sir."

I closed my eyes and allowed my head to fall backwards momentarily while I prepared myself for what I had to do.

Jay Harper. Why did it have to be Jay Harper?

I sat back upright and said, "Thanks Sarah. Go and put Jay in interview room 1 and I'll be there shortly."

Sarah left and the door shut behind her leaving me in blissful silence for a moment.

It just had to be Jay didn't it. My heart felt heavy at the thought. If his friend died, he'd be looking at some serious time in prison.

I'd gotten to know Jay quite well from his shop lifting days and took a bit of a shine to him. He was a good kid really, I could see that but he'd just been dealt a bad hand in life. I also had known his mum quite well too. I'd picked her up for being drunk and disorderly on a couple of occasions. She was no fit mother, that much I definitely knew.

It would have been worse for Jay if he didn't have Arthur Finley to watch over him. Arthur had been my friend for years and I would always get my car serviced and MOT'd at his garage.

Without him to act as the stability that Jay had desperately needed, who knows where he would have been. Although, it hadn't done him much good now. What could have happened to make things go so wrong for Jay?

I knew that his mum had died. Funny thing was, I thought it would have done him good in the long run, to not have her dragging him down anymore. I felt a bit stupid for thinking that now. Does anyone really cope with losing their mum?

I picked up my mobile phone and started flipping it over and over in my hand. It was something I often did, while I stalled in making an uncomfortable call.

What would I tell her?

She may understand when I told her it was Jay. My wife was close friends with Barbara Finley and had worked with her at the Charity shop. Maybe she would forgive me? Again?

Maybe not.

After taking a few deep breaths I punched my wife's contact into the phone and pressed call.