The Silent Room (21 page)

Roz was selfish, but never late. He worried that she might have changed her mind. Maybe, like him, she was dreading the encounter, their first in a while. When they first got together, things had been so good between them. He’d thought she was a keeper. Someone he’d settle down with. Sadly, that wasn’t the case.

The words ‘familiarity’ and contempt’ sprung to mind. At first he hadn’t noticed her making demands, messing with his head. It crept up on him gradually, taking him by surprise, until nothing he said or did was to her liking. Their final row had gone on and on. He’d waited patiently for the noise to die down, but she kept on pushing, winding him up until he snapped. Not a pretty sight.

‘You look like you need this.’ Karen was standing beside him, his pint in her hand. Setting it down on the table, she asked how he was doing. ‘Want anything solid to go with it?’

Ryan declined, even though he was hungry.

‘Let me know if you change your mind.’

The pub door opened as she moved away.

Roz had nothing with her, Ryan noticed. No sign of the file he hoped she might be carrying. At the bar, she ordered a large glass of Pinot, telling Karen to put it on his tab, bringing a wry smile to his face –
same old Roz.

Turning away from the bar, she approached his table and sat down beside him. For a moment there was an awkward silence. They were both tense. Uncommunicative. Neither knowing what to say or even where to begin. They had hardly spoken since he’d packed her in – a decision he didn’t regret.

When her drink came, she waited for Karen to return to the bar before shifting her attention to him. ‘How are you?’ she asked.

‘I’ve been better. You?’

‘So-so.’

She examined him closely, her eyes reaching deep inside him. She had that knack of putting him on edge, making him feel both nervous and excited at the same time. He’d never tell her, but he missed those lips on his when he woke in the mornings, her soft skin and incredible smell. It took a lot of resolve on his part to fend off the overture he was sure she was about to make.

It didn’t take long to arrive . . .

‘I laughed when they told me you were dodgy,’ she said. ‘You’re probably the most decent man I know.’

Ryan forced a smile. He didn’t want or need her endorsement.

‘I’ve been daft,’ she said. ‘Behaved badly.’

Sure had.
He wasn’t about to rub it in.

At least she had the decency to look repentant.

‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance—’

‘No.’ Ryan got in quick. ‘I know the risks you’re taking and I appreciate that, but I’ll be straight with you, there’s no reconciliation on the cards. This is purely business for Jack’s sake. No strings. I thought I’d made that clear on the phone. You and I are history—’

‘Do you always have to be so damned honest?’ She glared at him, revealing her true personality, the one he’d learned to live without.

‘You know me, Roz. I can’t operate in any other way.’

‘Except where Jack Fenwick is concerned?’

He didn’t rise to her unkind remark.

‘O’Neil’s all over it,’ she said. ‘Why not leave her to it?’

‘Because she’s not listening.’ Ryan lowered his voice. ‘Even if she was, she’s not moving fast enough. I’m not doing this for me. I promised Hilary and the kids I’d find . . .’ He choked on the words, recovered quickly. ‘I told her I’d find the bastards who killed Jack, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. You do know he wasn’t the victim of a hit-and-run?’

‘You sure we’re finished, you and I?’ She couldn’t help herself.

She always did this. Twisted everything to her advantage, putting herself first, turning the screw when she had the upper hand. He’d finally found the courage to tell her he’d drawn a line under their relationship and yet she still wasn’t listening. Unbelievable. Her expression was more angry than upset. Leaving her drink untouched, she stood up and walked away. Ryan’s head went down. As she reached the door, she turned, looked at him one last time and disappeared.

Ryan head-checked the small car park at the rear of the pub. Roz was long gone. His own vehicle was parked on the top road in Anick. The view from there was stunning, the snaking River Tyne in the distance, nothing but fresh air and countryside. It was a sight that would normally lift his spirits.

Not today.

Walking towards his car with a heavy heart, a cold wind stinging his face, he had no wish to return to the claustrophobia of the silent room. He was tempted to keep on walking, spend the day outside now the rain had stopped, to clear his head and focus, before he drowned in his own misery. He missed his home, the big sky, the crashing waves, the peace and tranquillity of a stroll on an empty beach. Most of all, he missed Jack.

Even from this distance, he noticed that the nearside door of his car wasn’t properly closed. He broke into a run. A blank file was lying on the passenger seat, a set of keys beside it. He scanned the line of cars along the narrow road before getting in.

No Roz.

The file contained everything he was after: photocopies of house-to-house forms and witness statements relating to the hijack as well as incidental notes. There weren’t that many – a couple of dozen at most – but they were all there as far as he could tell. At first glance, there was nothing he could identify that was wildly different from the results Grace had gathered during her under-the-radar enquiries at the scene. Attached to the front cover was a brief, handwritten, pink Post-it note.

For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

I hope this helps, Left

the keys, seeing as I won’t be

needing them.

Love you. Roz x

Ryan blew out his cheeks. His ex had come through for him. He thought about calling her. Instead, he reread the note.
Love you
. No, he couldn’t go there. Not now. Maybe never. He turned the engine over and headed for town.

He never saw it coming, not until it cleared the brow of a hill, a Traffic car, blue lights strobing across the dual carriageway about a mile behind him, travelling like a bullet in the same direction. His eyes shifted to the file on the passenger seat. As an officer suspended from duty, it was evidence he had no excuse for.

If caught in possession, his career was over.

Hiding the file beneath the seat seemed futile. He did it anyway. He couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t get off the A69. He could do bugger all except wait for the Traffic car to catch up with him. That wouldn’t be difficult. His old Discovery was a lumbering beast. It would run all day but not very fast. It did nothing in a hurry.

A million thoughts rushed through his head. Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe the car wasn’t after him at all. Any minute now, it would scream right by en route to an incident he wasn’t aware of. A decisive person by nature, all of a sudden he didn’t trust his own judgement. What was that about? For days he’d felt like he’d had a target on his back. He couldn’t explain why, but he just knew the Traffic car was after him. It would stop
him.
What a ’mare.

But how the hell did they know where he’d be?

Ryan’s thoughts were all over the place. They swung wildly, this way and that. Roz had played a blinder and betrayed him. He’d been so distracted by Jack’s death, he’d walked into a trap. No, that couldn’t be it. She was devious, yes, but he’d have seen the deceit on her face if that had been the case. Besides, that theory made no sense. By informing on him, she’d be dropping herself in it too.

Unless . . .

He didn’t want to believe it. The only plausible explanation was that she was in cahoots with O’Neil and Maguire. In all probability, they had found out about his request for information. They might have tapped her phone or caught her photocopying stuff for him. Maybe they had questioned her, turned her, and put her to work – ensnaring him her only way of escaping a disciplinary and keeping her job. Or maybe Grace’s opinion that his ex would stoop low to climb the slippery slope to the top was more realistic than his. In which case, Roz might have gone to them, proffering her services in exchange for a promotion – payback for dumping her.

And still the Traffic car kept coming.

Ryan palmed his brow. Roz had motive – her position afforded her the means – and Maguire would jump at the chance to shaft him good and proper. What had the slick-talking arse offered her, he wondered – a job on Complaints? Whatever the inducement, he hoped it would make her happy – make them both happy.

They deserved each other.

Momentarily, the Traffic car was lost behind a slow-moving lorry that couldn’t change lanes because the inside carriageway was chock-a-block. It bought Ryan a little time. He floored the accelerator, panic rising in his chest. Taking the slip road, he quickly called Grace.

‘I’m in trouble,’ he said.

‘Kind of trouble?’

‘In possession of house-to-house with a Traffic car up my chuff.’

‘An accident maybe?’

Ryan glanced in the rear-view ‘Yeah, and maybe I’m sixteen.’

‘You sure?’

‘Positive. If I get locked up, you’ll take care of Caroline?’

‘It won’t come to that.’

A siren reached him. ‘It just has.’

Lucky for Grace, Ryan hadn’t made it to Newcastle or he might have led them to the silent room. The car slowed, the STOP – STOP – STOP sign illuminated, instructing him to pull over. The Traffic car did likewise. It was triple-crewed. The officer who got out was someone he knew, PC Jimmy Smith – aka Jinky Jim, after a Scottish international/Newcastle United football player from way back, his father’s idea of a joke.

‘Jinky! Long time no see.’ Ryan got out of the car for two reasons: to put himself on a level with Smith and to distance himself from the incriminating material beneath his seat. He stuck out a hand. Played it cool. ‘You’re not going to accuse me of speeding in this old thing, are you? I could walk quicker. Need to get myself a new set of wheels.’

The PC seemed embarrassed as they shook hands. Apologetic even. ‘I don’t quite know how to put this, Ryan. We got a call on the blower to stop and make an arrest.’

‘Yeah, pull the other one.’

‘I’m not kidding, mate. Wish I was.’

‘I’m intrigued. How come you knew where to look? I’m not often out this way.’

‘I didn’t.’ The PC thumbed over his shoulder. ‘Clocked you crossing the Styford roundabout minutes after the call came in.’

‘Do I look dumb to you?’ Ryan gave him a dirty look. ‘Mind telling me who instigated the stop?’

‘Professional Standards. Our orders are to take you to the West End nick.’

‘Not until you tell me why, you don’t.’

‘You’re not going to like it.’

‘Get on with it.’

‘It’s in connection with the death of your DI. I’m sorry.’

The accusation felt like a knife to the heart. ‘You’re having a laugh!’

The PC’s reddening face said he wasn’t. Administering the full caution, he told Ryan he was under arrest and put him in the rear of the Traffic car, next to another officer he knew. There was a discussion between the three cops, a toss up between waiting for a low-loader to transport the Discovery to the station or for one of them to drive it. The cop in the rear got out and the Traffic car sped off.

Ryan stared out at the countryside as it rushed by. He was confused. What would Roz have done if he’d told her at the Rat that they were reconciled? In his head, he saw her walk calmly out of the pub, pull out her phone, giving some cock and bull story that he’d had second thoughts, changed his mind, been under a lot of stress lately and had already apologized for asking her to provide information he had no business to. But that hadn’t happened. With his fingerprints all over that file, Ryan could almost see O’Neil or Maguire unearthing it from beneath the seat of his four-by-four, hear a judge passing sentence, a cell door slamming on his life.

42

Maguire was behind the arrest. O’Neil was nowhere to be seen. Ryan was processed by the custody sergeant and put in a windowless cell to wait and wait – almost two hours in total – surrounded by the constant racket of a busy cellblock. If he stayed there a month, he’d never get used to the foot traffic toing and froing beyond his cell door. There was clanging and crying, some aggro too. A fellow prisoner screamed to be let out the whole time he was there. Ryan didn’t know what bothered him the most: that din, losing face in front of his colleagues or disgracing his father’s memory. Ordinarily, he’d have declined a brief. Not this time.
He needed one.

When she arrived in the interview room at four thirty in the afternoon, Ryan’s twin looked pale but in control. There were no visible signs of distress and – because she couldn’t see Maguire’s ugly face – he was unable to intimidate her with hard eyes or the smirk he was currently sporting. He was having a ball.

Ryan’s gaze shifted to Caroline.

The more he looked at her, the more he noticed the transformation. Gone was the fragile young woman he’d cosseted since their mother passed away. If that was what Maguire was expecting, he was in for a nasty surprise. No, Ryan could see that the woman taking the seat was strong and confident, ready to fight tooth and nail for his livelihood. It almost brought tears to his eyes.

‘Shall we get started,’ Caroline said.

Her guide dog became agitated as Maguire switched on the tape, introduced himself and went through the motions, giving the time, date and names of those present, even mentioning Bob. Ryan had spent a lot of time with the animal. Never before had he seen it react negatively to anyone – but it didn’t like Maguire.

Excellent judge of character.

Ryan studied his fellow DS across the table, anticipating a fair fight, with Caroline emerging victorious at the end of it. The feeling of euphoria was fleeting. It melted away as the ‘hot’ file in his car pushed its way into his head. Any second now it would be discovered, if it hadn’t already been. Was that why Maguire looked so pleased with himself? Any hope Ryan had of wriggling out of his predicament quickly vanished.