“You’ve read the files. You tell me.”
“Alex had wounds along his arms, indicating he raised them to protect himself. However, the wounds were not consistent with a man of your dad’s size. Had he been protecting himself from daddy dearest, his arms would have been raised upwards, what with your dad being taller than him. Meaning the knife would have stabbed his lower arms and wrists. The wounds Alex suffered were consistent with someone smaller than him. Isn’t that strange?”
“Not really,” I said, popping a chip into my mouth, and chewing slowly. “Alex wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. He probably didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on.”
“Convenient.”
“Hey, I’m not responsible for the state of the educational system in this country. I don’t think self-defence 101 is offered in the curriculum.”
“Luckily for me, it’s offered within the police force.”
“You feel like you need self-defence?”
“Oh, all the time,” he grinned. “But that’s not why I consider myself lucky. No, right now, I consider myself lucky, because I know what to look for when someone is lying. You see, as well as having inconsistent knife wounds, Alex also had some DNA under his nails. Skin cells, spots of blood… that sort of thing. They indicate that he tried to fight off his attacker.”
“Really?” I said, forcing a bored tone into my voice.
“Yeah, really. And can you guess whose DNA we found?”
“He ran an underage brothel. I can imagine it was more like DNA soup.”
“We found yours, Rachel.”
“Okay… and? Alex raped me repeatedly. Are you under the impression I went down without a fight?”
“What do you know about Alex’s friend Ben?” Officer Bradley asked, catching me by surprise as he changed the topic.
“Nothing of interest.”
“But Macbeth knew him, right?” He grinned like the cat that had got the cream.
“Why do you ask?”
“Answer the question, if you please.”
“I’m not privy to the details of Macbeth’s private life. As you can imagine, I’ve been a bit busy with Dante and my bonus daughter.”
“We have CCTV of Macbeth entering Ben’s club on numerous occasions.”
“Macbeth likes to drink,” I said, making sure I referred to him in the present tense.
“And yet at the time of these CCTV images, you had a pub on the club grounds.”
“So? It doesn’t mean he is obligated to drink there.”
“Cut the shit, Rachel. We know Macbeth and Ben were friends. Just like we know Macbeth was working with the Riders. What we don’t know is why.”
“You know, or you think you know? Is this official, Officer? Do I need to call my lawyer?”
“No,” he smiled again. “This is just a friendly warning, Rachel.” He leant closer to me, lowering his voice. “I know much more than you think I do. I know it was you who murdered Alex. I know you had something to do with Ben’s disappearance. And I know Macbeth is dead. I also know that Alex’s brother, Callum, recently returned to the UK, and yet he hasn’t been seen in over a week. Right around the time Macbeth was killed. There’s a lot of interest in this case, especially as the dots are beginning to connect themselves. And where do all those dots lead to?”
I stayed silent.
“I’ll tell you where they lead. They all lead to you. Macbeth, Alex, Ben, Callum… you’re the connector to them all. All of this happened right after you returned to England. Isn’t that strange? I know your dad lied, and the evidence is screaming at us that you were the one who actually killed Alex. One word from me, your dad will be back in prison for perverting the course of justice. Dante will be locked up for harbouring a fugitive, and you’ll be behind bars for the rest of your life. Oh, and that bonus daughter of yours will be shipped off to whatever godforsaken children’s home that’ll have her.”
“You—”
“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. “It doesn’t matter what you have to say. I know you killed them. And I know you probably thought you were doing the right thing. They were bad people, so you took them out. However, that was not your right. You don’t get to cast judgement and decide someone’s fate.”
