Every Second Counts

Chapter Nineteen

I CRY MYSELF TO SLEEP every night wishing I had gotten to see Damien one last time. I push away thoughts of his secret engagement, instead the memory I cling to was when he said, 'I want to get to know you a hell of a lot more.' But this memory, his cologne, the thoughts of intimacy brings on another round of tears and remorse.

* * *

I beg Lila to give me some space and promise I will tell Rutherford about my visit to Cottonsdale on that fateful night. We get into a huge row and she points out that it will be in my best interest to tell them before they find out.

As each day passes, I cannot believe the police have not come to arrest me, or at least acknowledge they know I must have seen Damien's body. No one comes and Lila eventually goes back to Venice. But before she leaves she tells me, 'You need to see another shrink. Get that memory of Sunday night unrepressed. Promise me?'

I pretend I am thinking about who I can talk to and then I say, 'Actually, I agree. I will talk to someone. See if I can sort it all out.'

'Who is it? Who are you going to see?' she asks.

'You won't know her. But, trust me, I hear she's really good.'

'I'll be checking in on you. Making sure you're not pulling the wool over my eyes, Athena.'

'I'm not. I'll start this week.' It isn't really a lie, I have the girl in the dark room and I now can see she has actually helped, steered me in the right direction. My freedom may depend on her so I make a commitment to be the best student she has ever had!

During the evening with only Floppy, my unwitting guard dog, and a bottle of whisky to keep me company, I wonder how I am ever going to go back to Cottonsdale. It holds such torturous memories. However, I have to keep seeing the Heslop's. They were such good friends to my parents and I cannot just dump them from my existence because I'm a coward. I decide there and then that if I cannot go to them, then I will get a taxi to pick them up and bring them to the city where we can catch up over lunch.

It is while I pour the final drink for the evening because I know that one more drink will have me spending the night on the floor instead of in my bed, is when I have let my guard down and Mrs. Heslop's admission screams in my head. For fucks sake. What she told me that day, cannot be true. In a state of disbelief, the drink I should not have is poured into my glass and I skull it without a moment's thought.

I awake on the cold tiles of Red's floor with the Heslop's in my head. I have to sort this. Find out one way or another. I am literally down in the underground carpark where my car is stored when Policewoman Polly taps me on my shoulder.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. We have an update on Mr. Crowder's murder. Now, here's the thing, my boss doesn't want you to know about this, so Mum's the word. OK?' She stares at me until I start to nod in agreement.

'The place was wiped clean. I mean, his office etc. No DNA anywhere one would expect the murderer's DNA to be. Obviously the knife was cleaned but so was every square inch of Mr. Crowder's office, from floor to ceiling. No DNA. No fingerprints.'

I puzzle. Why is she telling me this?

'Rutherford doesn't want you to know this bit of info,' she tells me.

'Why not? And more to the point why are you telling me?'

She flicks her eyes downwards and appears to struggle with how she will answer my question. 'The thing is, remember that investigator who questioned you about Mr. Gladstone's death? Justin Walker?' Yip, I'd forgotten his name, but remember him alright and the fact that he didn't believe me. Fair enough, all my answers were Godsdammed lies. 'He still thinks you know more about what Mr. Gladstone was getting up to and he's been talking to Rutherford.' Christ. That's all I need.

I raise my eyebrows in the way that shows Polly I haven't a clue what they are on about so she continues. 'The thing is, they don't want anyone to know the crime scene has been cleaned because they hope the murderer may think they've missed a spot and panic. Maybe make a mistake.'

'OK. I get that. But, why are you telling me all this? Against the orders of your superior?'

'Because I heard you on the phone the other day. Asking Rutherford about the torture. He shouldn't have told you. He should have lied about it. I know how vulnerable you are right now.' She's wrong. She doesn't know the half of it. 'You're wondering if the person who murdered Mr. Crowder was someone you knew. You must, or you wouldn't have mentioned kickboxing injuries. Without telling you anymore, you need to know this is the job of a professional. So, put your mind at rest.'

Polly has no idea how this information does not put my mind at rest.

* * *