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It’d be tough. I needed to be strong and professional.
As if reading my thoughts, Sam voiced what I’d been thinking.
“Are you going to be okay seeing him?”
“I can be professional. I’ll let you do the talking, though. I want to keep my distance from him if I can.”
“Just stay calm, and everything will be all right.”
My heart was beating ten to the dozen as nerves set in. Not once had I experienced anything like this, but then I’d never been involved with a victim before, albeit one from a closed case.
We checked in and were shown to a small side room. Luckily, we didn’t have to wait long before he sauntered in, wearing a smug smile. I fought the urge to jump up and punch him, wiping it off his face.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favourite duo? Woods and Palmer. Sounds like a dodgy firm of solicitors. How’ve you both been, and to what do I owe this pleasure?”
Sam sat opposite him, and I stood off to the side, by the window. I didn’t trust myself within a few feet of that wanker.
“We’ve come to talk to you about some assaults that have been taking place. They have similarities to the atrocities you and your brother committed on Ziggy Coleman and Liam Fletcher.”
“Ah, my boys.” He stared off into the distance as if remembering them.
I bristled, ready to do…what I didn’t know.
“How are they? I heard Ziggy got married to the paramedic who saved him. What a fairytale ending that turned out to be, right? And my Liam. He was such a good boy, always did as he was told…until he didn’t.”
Jesus fucking Christ. If he said one more word.
He looked directly at me, that smug smile back.
“But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Detective Palmer? I believe he’s made quite an impression on you. He really gives the best blow jobs.”
I took a step forward, my fists balled. The fucker.
“Ah, ah, Detective. I see I’ve hit a nerve.”
Too fucking right he had.
Sam gave me a subtle shake of his head and brought the conversation back to the matter in hand.
“What do you know about the assaults? Let’s stay on topic, shall we?”
“Why do you think I’d know? I’ve been locked up here for five years, three months, and ten days. Not that I’m counting.”
He deserved to be there for life for what he’d done.
“I know nothing, Detective. Perhaps you should talk to my brother. Maybe he knows something about it. Frankly, as much as I hate it here, I get everything I need, if you know what I mean, and no one complains.”
He grabbed his groin and thrust upwards, leaving us in no doubt as to what he was referring.
“What about your sister? What’s she up to these days?”
“I have no idea. That bitch gave up both me and my brother. Why would I want anything to do with her? Now, if there’s nothing else, I have a friend I need to visit.”
He signalled to the prison officer, who led him from the room.
It had been a shot in the dark. We’d known it might not result in anything, but it had been worth a try.
On the drive back to the station, we were quiet.
