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Noah draws my attention back to him. “According to our anonymous tipper, the gun belongs to Maddox Lawler. But you’ve never seen this gun before?”
“Come on, Noah, it’s not like it’s a rare model. In fact, from what I understand, the SIG P210 is very collectible.” He raises a curious brow at my show of knowledge. “Don’t act so surprised. This particular model was used by the Swiss military for years.”
“So, you’ve never seen this or seen Maddox with this gun?” he pushes, pointing to the picture staring up at me from his phone.
I tilt my head, raising my own eyebrows in condemnation. “No, Noah, I haven’t. In case you forgot, the last time I saw the Lawlers, until a few weeks ago, was the night my mum was murdered.”
He releases a deep sigh. “You understand why I had to ask?” I nod because I do. I try to ignore the niggling voice at the back of my mind reminding me I just lied to a friend and fellow cop. “It’s also been identified as the weapon used in several other murders in the last few years, Roxy, so if you do know anything at all, then you need to tell me.” His hesitation picks away at my stern composure, but I hold fast and hold his probing gaze too. “Okay, fine. Another thing I need to talk to you about is Kavanagh.”
The subject change, although a small relief, still isn’t a topic I’m entirely comfortable with.
“I take it you have some information on him?”
“Yeah, nothing good. The guy has a rap sheet as long as your arm but has always managed to avoid prison for one reason or another.”
“Seems prison isn’t the only thing he’s managed to avoid if you didn’t know who he was,” I mutter sarcastically.
“Yes, well… Anyway, as the eldest son of the head of the Irish Mob, he’s been linked to the the Bratva and obviously Rogers, which alone explains how he’s avoided doing time. Dirty money talks, Roxy. You didn’t say how you identified him.”
“No, I don’t plan to either.” He begins shaking his head, but I stop him. “Look, I need to be careful what information I give you, Noah. Besides, I’m not a hundred percent certain it was him.”
“Roxy, how the fuck am I supposed to explain your intel if you won’t tell me how you know this stuff?”
“Not my problem, Noah,” I snap, frustrated with his questions and pissed at the knowledge I might have been wrong about Maddox and Zak being the ones to murder Theo. I wanted to talk to him about getting Axel and Eva somewhere safe, but I’m starting to wonder how much I can trust him. That’s hard to admit when I’ve never doubted him before. Maybe I’m being dramatic, over-thinking, or maybe it’s because I know he has feelings that go beyond friendship and plain old casual sex. Whatever it is, I need to get the hell out of here. I need air. I need to breathe and sort out what I’m meant to do now.
I rise from my chair, the metal legs scraping against the floor. “I have to go,” I say, rushing for the door.
Noah calls after me, but I don’t stop. The halls are busy with shift change making it easy for me to disappear.
Bursting out the doors, I suck in a lungful of air like it’s my first breath since I stepped inside the station. Hurrying to my car with my head down, I don’t see the man up ahead until it’s too late.
Something solid hits my shoulder, knocking me off balance. Managing to stay on my feet, my head swivels, and I catch a glimpse of a man I don’t recognise. He’s not bothered about me seeing him though as he stands there risen to his full height and fists clenched by his side.
“Fucking dirty cop,” he spits out, nostrils flaring and eyes wide, burning into me.
I’m just about to respond when Smithy rounds the corner. His eyes scan me before jumping to the guy who looks like he’s about to tear into me.
“Hey, what you doing back here?” Smithy calls to him, marching towards us with his hand on his belt ready to draw his baton.
The guy’s eyes barely flicker as Smithy draws closer. “Karma is going to fuck you up, bitch!” he snarls, then turns and runs the other way just as Smithy reaches me.
“You okay, Sar…I mean Roxy?”
Turning towards him, I say, “I’m fine, Smithy. He just caught me off guard is all.” I don’t like that I was so wrapped up in my head I didn’t see him. It doesn’t scare me. I can take care of myself, but it does make my anger toward Maddox and Zak grow a new head but equally fills me with trepidation about this whole situation.
A hand on my arm snaps me out of my thoughts, and I look to Smithy who has a look of concern on his face.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good, honestly.” I give him a playful smile and pat his shoulder as I say, “I need to go. See you later, Smithy, and thanks.” I rush off before he can ask anything more, but I hear him call out a bye and take care as I round the corner out of sight.
Once in my car, I drive. No place in mind, just aimlessly driving. I hear my phone ringing, as it has been for the last half hour. Eventually, I park, which is a damn miracle, and walk down to Tower Bridge.
I stop halfway along and look out over the Thames. It’s majestic standing beneath this Victorian suspension bridge, and the view is spectacular. I have a very conflicted history with this bridge.
There have been times, many, when I’ve stood beneath the historic columns full of happiness and laughter. One particular night that always sticks in my mind is when Maddox and Zak decided to pull a moonie at a passing party boat full of drunken revellers. The gasps of surprise and giggles from the woman below carried all the way to me and reminded me of the scene in the movieGrease. We laughed so hard as we ran back across the bridge that my sides hurt. It was also the first time I realised exactly how attracted to them both I was.
They are happy memories, happy times. But there have been others, not so long after that night, that saw me sitting on the railing edge ready to drop to the dark abyss below. Ready to end it all and join my mum and sister. Those were dark days full of raw pain and grief. Full of loss and anger that almost swallowed me whole.
