Chapter 9: The following day: The four suspects

CHAPTER 9

EILIDH

THE FOLLOWING DAY – THE FOUR SUSPECTS

D espite sleeping well, I woke up early the following morning feeling restless. My mind kept drifting back to the mysterious man, our kisses, and his sexy as hell voice.

Chuckling, I couldn't believe I kissed him like that. I didn't even get to see his face, but I didn't need to. Just from the beautiful silver-grey eyes and his smile, I knew he was handsome. And that accent of his, which I was sure was Russian, my god; it made me want to come on the spot.

Nevertheless, what I had done had been reckless and entirely out of character. I should be concerned about that, but I wasn't. It didn't matter that we had met in such odd and frankly dangerous circumstances; I had been immediately drawn to him. I couldn't explain it, so I decided not to try. With all the upset I had been through recently, my entire world turning upside down, it was no wonder I had taken solace in a few minutes of pleasure.

And he had smelt so good! A mix of spice and ginger with an undertone that was all male. Yum! Warmth flooded my face as I remembered blatantly smelling him.

Oh my god, did I really do that? Yip! my inner voice chipped in, making me groan and facepalm in embarrassment.

Yet even my embarrassment didn't stop the rush of liquid to my core just thinking of how he had smelt.

God, I cringed when I thought of how wantonly I'd acted. Although, who could blame me, really?

The pull of attraction I had felt the moment he had pressed his large body with all those hard muscles against me was unlike anything I'd felt before.

Between his gorgeous eyes, his smell, his luscious sexy lips, his panty-melting kisses, that voice, and the hard length of him against my body, it was no wonder I hadn't been able to resist. He was the full package and then some!

My body shivered with lust. I was only human, after all, so I refused to be ashamed of practically throwing myself at the man. Even if I did!

Well, actually, he lifted me up, and I just wrapped my legs around him the second time we kissed. So technically, I didn't actually jump on him, but it wasn't far off. And deep down, I knew that I really wouldn't mind doing it again.

Sighing, I pushed that thought aside.

Under any other circumstances, I would be thrilled to see the man again. Unfortunately, that wasn't something that could happen. The thought filled me with sadness, as if my body mourned his loss. But it would have to mourn. That brief but exciting encounter we had yesterday was all it was going to get.

After all, the guy was breaking into a building. If that hadn't been enough to tell me he was obviously a criminal of some sort, then the dangerous vibe he exuded certainly was. It didn't matter that I was hugely attracted to him. Steering clear of him was definitely for the best.

But his kisses! And those lips! That little voice said again.

Seriously! I admonished myself.

No more throwing myself at random strangers, no more kissing them, and definitely no more thinking about their lips!

My body slumped, and I suddenly felt depressed by the thought.

What was going on with me? This was all out of character. It definitely had to be a reaction to all the stress I was under. I was simply going to put the incident with Mr Sexy Lips down to a moment of temporary insanity and forget all about it. And him. Especially him.

Curiosity tugged at me, though.

My police senses were tingling. I really wanted to know why he was breaking into that building. He was obviously a thief up to no good.

Like you? My inner voice questioned.

Shit, my inner voice was pissing me off today. I might have acted like a criminal by breaking into Mathieson's office, but I was not a criminal, I told it fiercely.

But you stole the secretary's pass too , the annoying little voice sneered.

Huffing heavily, I ignored it.

Everything I had done was necessary, but it didn't make me a criminal. I was a police officer; I upheld the law. It just so happened that I needed to break it on this occasion to bring my dad's killers to justice and expose the corruption that got him killed.

It was hard not to see the irony in that. However, I consoled myself that the end justified the means under the circumstances.

The thought that until a week ago I wouldn't have dreamed of doing such a thing entered my mind again and I pushed it quickly aside, not wanting to admit that my world was no longer as black and white as I'd believed.

Regardless of my current actions, I was a police officer and so I couldn't go around associating with criminals. Even sexy ones!

Besides, I was on a mission and didn't need the distraction.

Although, to be honest, I was lucky that Mr Sexy Lips had been there last night. If he hadn't been, I would probably have been caught in the stairwell by the security guard. If he had detained me and called the police, how the hell would I have explained things? I had to be more careful.

That was the second time I put myself in danger yesterday.

My heart pounded and my stomach churned at the thought of how close I'd come to nearly losing everything. It made me wonder if doing all of this on my own was the right thing to do. Perhaps I should look for some help. But who? There was really no one I could trust.

Tears sprung to my eyes as I realised that there was nobody in my life who had my back. Nobody who truly loved me. Nobody who was there when I needed them.

God, what I wouldn't give to have someone to share things with. A man who loved me and who would help me navigate life's traumas. Someone I could love in return.

But there wasn't anyone, and dreaming of such things was stupidity.

What about Mr Sexy Lips? That annoying little voice piped up again.

No, not him. Definitely not!

Shaking my head, I swiped angrily at the tears that were running unbidden down my face.

I would just have to do this on my own and make sure I didn't kill myself or get arrested in the process. Losing my life or my job would not bring my dad's killers to justice. No matter what, that had to be my priority, and I had to ensure I didn't mess things up. It was time to toughen the hell up!

Thinking back over yesterday, I noted my errors. The first was not allowing myself proper rest, and the second was not controlling my emotions. I was putting my stupidity in nearly running straight into the guard down to my upset over seeing what I believed to be the gun that killed my dad.

However, that was no excuse; I was trained to work better under pressure and in stressful situations. From now on, I needed to stay clear-headed and focused. I had to keep a grip on my emotions, and I had to stop getting distracted, and that included by gorgeous men.

Images of the mystery man and our antics flashed through my mind, making a mockery of my vow to forget about him. I huffed, annoyed with myself. The man was way too distracting.

No matter how I tried, I couldn't focus on anything but the feel of his lips.

They really were sexy lips.

Aargh!

Damn that man. I needed to get out, go for a run, and clear my head.

Grabbing my running clothes and trainers, I pulled them on in annoyance, huffing and mumbling about purging the annoying male from my mind.

It was a chilly morning. The crisp air assaulted my lungs as I ran. However, every breath felt like a cleansing of my mind and body, so I pushed myself hard, concentrating solely on my breathing until all other thoughts disappeared.

Eventually, with a clearer mind and feeling more in control of myself, I returned home.

After a long shower, I felt refreshed, more focused, stronger and ready to take on the world. Or at least my colleagues. Alone or not, I could do this!

Opening my phone, I downloaded the photos I took in Mathieson's office onto my computer to look through them. It definitely was some sort of escape cache that confirmed, without a doubt, that the asshole was corrupt.

However, there was nothing there I could use against him or Roy. I had stopped calling him Uncle Roy. He wasn't my uncle, and he no longer deserved the privilege of being an honorary one. The thought of calling him uncle ever again made me want to puke. The fucker!

Thinking about him reminded me it was time to call Aunt Maisie. After a brief chat, she invited me over for dinner later in the evening, just as I had hoped.

Afterwards, I settled at my desk with my notebook and started making notes.

I had four prime suspects regarding the corruption in my department. All of whom were on my shift, and most of whom were long-serving prominent members of the CID Roy, Sergeant John McBride, and two Detective Constables, Steven Ridley, and my partner, Martin Johnson.

It was time to gather my thoughts and get properly organised.

Starting a file on each of the officers, I wrote out everything I knew about them, no matter how insignificant. I spent the rest of the morning thinking about the various incidents I had witnessed at work that were in any way odd, jotting down everything I could remember as I tried to figure out exactly what these officers were involved in.

There was one incident a few months ago involving Sergeant McBride while I had been on secondment. We had been driving around and the Sarge had told me he needed to talk with some of his informants about a case he was working on.

Naturally, I thought nothing of that. Using informants was a big part of a detective's life, and many informants would only speak to a particular officer. So, when I was told to wait inside the car as he went around various pubs and clubs chatting with people, it didn't ring any alarm bells. It was boring but not unusual.

However, as the night wore on, I thought his behaviour seemed a bit off. It had been almost as if he was on edge, and I got the impression the Sarge was nervous about my presence. Especially when he talked with the bouncer at the last club we visited. He kept glancing towards me as he spoke. I pretended I wasn't watching and saw him slip something to the guy, who then gave him something in return.

It had seemed a little shady, but I had scoffed at myself for thinking that and ignored my concerns. I'd simply thought that the Sarge was paying an unofficial informant for the information he was getting instead of going down the normal route.

Usually, criminal informants—also known as Covert Human Intelligence Sources—were properly sanctioned and paid for out of police funds. However, not everyone who gives out information to the police regularly wants to be an official informant. I'd just thought the Sarge was acting a bit off the books, but thoughts of him actually being corrupt hadn't entered my mind.

In hindsight, I now knew it likely was something nefarious after all.

To make matters worse, that was just one of several similar incidents I'd witnessed involving the Sarge and my partner Martin during my secondment.

Shaking my head in disgust with myself, I wondered how the heck I hadn't questioned things sooner.

Shame filled me as I realised just how na?ve I'd been. I'd trusted my colleagues and as a result, I'd missed so much.

Well, the blinkers were off. My eyes were well and truly opened now, and in some ways, I wished I could go back to that time of blissful ignorance, but unfortunately, there was no going back. All I could do now was to bring these officers to justice and redeem myself for my stupidity and blind faith in men that didn't deserve it.

The alarm on my phone went off, telling me it was time to put yet another part of my plan into action.

Grabbing a backpack, I packed my gloves, tools, and some lunch and headed to Martin's house. If he wasn't home, I planned on breaking in and looking around. If he was, I would just observe for a while and see if anything came of that.

A short while later, I pulled into Martin's street and parked near enough to his house to watch any comings and goings.

Within minutes, he appeared with a gym bag, jumped into his car, and drove off in the opposite direction.

Yes! I grinned as he passed my hire car, oblivious to my presence. My luck was in.

My foot tapped impatiently, and I fidgeted with the strap of my bag, desperate to get on with my mission, but I forced myself to wait.

Finally, when I was sure he would not return, I left the car and slowly approached his home.

After checking nobody was watching, I slipped around the back.

Having been to his house a few times before, I knew he didn't have an alarm or any dogs. I also knew that the back door was old and had an old mortice lock, and my handy little toolkit held a skeleton key that would open it easily.

After a bit of jiggling, the door opened, and I beamed. Cousin Joe would be so proud!

Unsure of how much time I had, I went straight to Martin's home office. Unfortunately, the time wasted searching through it proved pointless when I found nothing of interest. In fact, it looked like it was rarely used.

Disappointed, I moved on to his bedroom. Inside his wardrobe, he had a small safe. It had a keypad, and I took out a small container of powder used for lifting prints at crime scenes and brushed the contents over the pad.

Fingerprints could be seen on four keys. It only took me a moment to realise that the numbers matched the date he'd been made detective.

Ha, easy!

A rush of excitement filled me as I grinned and keyed the date in, and the door popped open.

Just like at Mathieson's, Martin had another passport with his photo, but a different name and an enormous pile of cash. Wow! It seemed being a corrupt officer was very lucrative. The most interesting thing, however, was a notebook which had been hidden underneath some other paperwork.

Just like before, I snapped a photo of the contents before looking through them.

The notebook held names, dates, times, and amounts. Some small amounts and some much larger amounts. I wasn't sure what it was, but my gut told me it referred to something illegal. Otherwise, why would it be locked in here with everything else?

The notebook was obviously important, and I needed to figure out what all the entries related to, but that would take time. So, against my better judgement, I took it and slipped it into my backpack.

After closing the safe, I wiped the powder from the keypad, then made my way out of the house, ensuring the back door was locked before I left.

Back in the safety of my rental car, which I'd hired for my snooping, I laughed. That was easy! For a police officer, Martin's security was appalling. However, it made it quicker for me to get in and out, so I wasn't complaining.

Before heading home to change for dinner with Aunt Maisie, I drove to the nearest off-licence to grab a bottle of gin and some wine.

I'd always loved Aunt Maisie and got along well with her, even though she was a bit of a lush and loved a good drink. Tonight, I intended to use that to my advantage. The plan was to ply her with drink and, when she was passed out drunk, I'd check the house.