The Torchbearer ✓

Chapter 8

Jackson was staring into space across his desk toward where Chris should've been sat, had his son not been murdered the day before.

He drew in a deep breath and slowly zoned back in. The office was a busy place today, given the events of yesterday but Jackson's desk felt like an oasis of calm in its midst. Computer's whirred away, conversations were had down telephones and fingers rattled across keyboards to complete the police station orchestra he had grown so accustomed to over his years in the force. However, it was safe to say that Jackson much preferred policing in the field.

Jackson stopped biting his nails and adjusted his posture so that he was closer to his desk computer. He checked his watch.

11:16 and I haven't even logged in yet.

Jackson bit his lip to complete his worried facial expression and typed in his login credentials. Andy hadn't said one word to Jackson all morning which was reason enough to confirm his fury towards him, but this uncharacteristic lethargy wasn't going to earn him any favours from his boss.

Lee cast a surreptitious glance to his superior's office and his stomach tightened uncomfortably. Andy was facing away from him, leaning back in his chair to speak to someone down the phone. He was scratching the back of his head fervently, which Jackson identified as one of his tell-tale signs for stress.

Guess this is reverse butterflies, but it signifies dread as opposed to nerves, thought Jackson as he massaged his aching abdomen.

He checked his emails for any news on the DNA test of the assassin's car that he abandoned in the multi-storey car park.

There was an email from forensics, but it didn't give him any hope as their tests had not been able to identify the criminal.

"Ah shit," Jackson said aloud, putting his head in his hands for a moment before running his hands through his hair. He was just about to re-commence his dwelling and had begun to lift his fingernails to his mouth again before rising to his feet.

His joints offered a few clicks as he stood and headed for the door. Andy was too absorbed in his conversation to see him go.

Jackson took the stairs to the ground floor and made his way to the revolving doors.

"Popping out Lee?" Enquired the receptionist, a middle-aged woman who always wore her glasses comically close to the end of her nose. Well, Jackson found it comical.

What's her name again? Oh god... It's either Liz or Lauren. Or maybe Lucy? Fuck.

"Yeah, just need some fresh air. The office can make me feel all cooped up sometimes, you know what I mean lau-ve?"

Jackson realised his error too late and his cheeks flushed a deep crimson as he fumbled with the woman's name.

He had a feeling she was called Lauren, before spying her name badge with 'Lisa' printed on it, at which point he took evasive action and attempted to mould the word he had started into 'love'.

Jesus, I should know her name, she's worked here for ages!

"I know exactly what you mean, claustrophobic isn't it?" Lisa answered. She was either oblivious to his mistake or ignoring it.

"Very." Replied Jackson curtly, as he undid another of his shirt buttons and exited the building, taking his embarrassment with him.

Jackson pulled at his collar to allow in some more air as he walked away from the police station down the pavement. It was overcast and breezy, but surprisingly mild for winter so he didn't feel too chilly in just his shirt and navy police jumper.