Chapter Eleven

The police station was less than half a mile down the street, but it felt as if I was running a marathon. The sun beat down on my neck and I couldn’t tell if the sweat soaking the back of my neck was from the heat or nerves. A wasp flew into my face as I ran, and I let out a squeal, swiping at it and knocking it to the ground. I stopped to grab my breath in the driveway of the station house, my chest wheezing from a worsening smoking habit and the lack of exercise I’d had of late. I stood for a moment, bent over slightly as I breathed heavily, going over my story in my head. What I was going to say to the police to free Jamal. I imagined Sergeant Andrews; good cop. She would look at me with wide-eyed understanding, her eyes probably rimmed with tears. Macdonald and Clark on the other hand – Bad cop and bad cop wannabee, respectively – would take in every word through a stern face. Macdonald would hound me with his alcohol-tinged breath; why did I not tell them sooner? What else was I hiding? I stood up straight and took a step towards the door when it swung open and Jamal exited.

        “Jamal!” I exclaimed.

        He looked taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

      “I’d heard you’d been taken in for questioning and I-“

I stopped myself. He was free. There was no reason for me to reveal what I was on my way to confess. What good would it do now?

       “I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

       He looked around, as if somebody might be listening. “Let’s go for a walk and talk away from here?”

        I nodded. “Sure. Beach?”

We made our way down the dunes, cutting through the sharp, long grass and hopping over rocks the way we had done as children. When we finally reached the flat shore, I slid off my trainers and buried my feet into the warm sand. Flies danced around us as Jamal settled on a rock, his face forlorn and tired.

       “So what happened?” I said, avoiding his gaze. Instead, I followed my own finger tracing shapes amongst the shells as he spoke.

        “My father was able to prove that even though those messages came from his phone – he didn’t send them.”

        I ran my tongue along my lips, trying to remain nonchalant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

        “My father got called away that night to the city – he had an emergency at work. In his haste to leave, he left his phone in the bar that night.”

         “So… they think it was someone drinking in the bar that night that sent them?”

          He nodded. “That’s about the jist of it.”

          “But hang on… you weren’t there that night, so why were they asking you about it?”

         He was silent for a moment. I looked up at him and he glanced away. “That’s the thing, they weren’t asking me about the message Blair… they were asking me about you.”

        I jumped up from artwork in the sand and to my feet. “Me? What about me?”

        He turned to face me. “Just… about your friendship with Dayna. Was the friendship completely platonic… did you ever seem…”

        “What? Seem what?”

        “Jealous of Dayna, or resent her. And perhaps a little… obsessed?”

         I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re kidding me? Was it platonic? Of course it was! I’m with Sean and Dayna was with… well we both know she had her fair share of men.”

        I began pacing back in forth and he placed his hand on my shoulder to stop me. “I know you would never hurt her Blair. The police probably know that too. I just wanted to warn you that they are probably going to come for you next. Just be honest and you’ll be fine.”

You’re wrong, I thought, honesty is only going to make me look guilty as fuck.

        He must have read something in my expression. “What is it?”

        I watched his face contort into concern, the sunlight bouncing off his thick, shiny hair. I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to look at me with anything other than that concern and caring.

      “Nothing,” I reassured him. “I should get home.”

       He nodded. “Me too. It will be ok Blair, I promise. We have nothing to worry about – either of us.”

I wanted to scream that he was wrong, I had everything to worry about, but I said nothing.

*

Sean came for dinner that night. Normally, I would go up to his farm for dinner and see his mother, but I wanted to spend as little time around his cop brother as possible. As it turned out, dinner at my house was just as awkward. We all sat around the table, cutting into mum’s signature chicken stuffed with haggis, with lashings of whisky sauce, and sipping red wine. It was almost pleasant, until Jamie started quizzing Sean.

         “So Sean, how goes the farm work?”

         “Good thank you Mr Smith. It’s been tough with this dry weather we’re having; never a shortage of things to do.”

        “I see,” said Jamie, his mouth full of food, “Perhaps you could give Blair some work.”

         I tapped the table with my knife and fork. “This again?”

         Mum cut in. “Well honey, obviously Jamie’s not really suggesting you work on a farm. But it has been a while since you had some kind of an income. Perhaps it is time…”

         “My best friend was just murdered. You expect me to be creating CV’s and cover letters?”

        “I understand you’ve been through some trauma Blair. When you quit your job when your dad died-“

        “You mean when I lost my job because I tried to kill myself.”

Seans’ hand felt mine under the table and he gave it a squeeze.
        Mum flinched. “I gave you time to heal. But you can’t go on like this.”

        “Besides,” Jamie interjected, “You can’t just hide from the world every time you experience trauma. A job might help you cope better, take your mind off things.”

        “As I’ve said before, you’re not my fucking dad and it’s not your fucking business. I’m twenty years old I don’t need a new daddy or your opinion on how I should be living my life.”

        He was the one to slam his cutlery on the table this time. His nostrils flared as he shouted at me across the table. “Twenty years old and still living at home without a job!”

        Granda stood up and pointed a crooked finger at Jamie. “You! Enough! You don’t get to come into our house and shout at my granddaughter like this. She is always welcome here – job or no job!”

        Mum’s face had turned red with chagrin and rage. “This is Jamie’s house too dad!”

        “Yeh – you moved him in here without asking if I was ok with it!” I screamed. “You claim to be all caring, all understanding and then you do shit like that. You don’t give a fuck about me, or Granda or dads memory. All you care about is this patronising cunt!”

 The room fell silent, mum glaring at me whilst Jamie stared down Granda and Sean awkwardly prodded at his food with his fork. I had invited him here to escape his brother, but right now I would take PC Clark’s accusatory glances and mumbled snide comments over this. The sound of the doorbell shattered the awkward silence.

         “Perfect fucking timing,” Granda mumbled.

         I shot up from the table. “I’ll get it!”

I practically flew to the front door. If I had known what was waiting on the other side of the front door, I would have ran out the back instead.      

          “Blair Campbell,” Macdonald looked stern as ever, “We have a warrant to search your house.”

           I turned to Andrews’. “A warrant? Don’t you need to have like probable cause to get one of those?”

        She stared at me, her eyes the coldest I had ever seen them. “We have more than that, Blair. We have evidence.”