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He checked his phone. Three-o-one a.m. He threw it at the wall, shoved back the sheets and paced the flat until, finally, the sun began to rise, and he dared open the curtains.
By the time he was nearing Fulford Road Police Station an hour later, he was finishing his fourth coffee, and his body felt like it was strung through with hot wire. There was a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. His heart skittered in his chest.
He swore and swerved to avoid an ambulance bombing the other way down the narrow street…then another. He pulled over and climbed out of the car, shaking as the sirens faded away. Silence descended. He took a steadying breath and made for the police station on foot.
It wasn’t yet six a.m., but when he arrived, the entrance was swarming with activity. Another ambulance was pulled up onto the curb. Paramedics were hoisting up a stretcher on which sprawled an unconscious form. There was blood everywhere—on the man’s face, clothes, matting his hair. The ambulance screamed off after the others.
Tyler stood staring for a moment before shaking himself and striding into the police station.
“DI Walker,” he barked at the harried-looking desk officer. She held up a finger and continued her conversation on the phone. “Oi, lady. I said I want to see Walker.Now.”
“One sec,” she said into the phone then gave Tyler a hard look. “Please, sir. Take a seat.”
“I won’t take a bloody seat. Get Walker out here.Now.”
The woman’s face tightened. “DI Walker is engaged. If you want to leave your number, I will be sure he contacts you. Yes, I’m still here,” she spoke again into the phone. “We need extra techs to go over the CCTV as soon as possible. Yes. Scene photographers, too—”
Tyler reached over and cut the woman’s call. “I said I want Walker…now.”
She held his glare without blinking. “AndIsaid he’sbusy, sir.”
“Mr. Lomax.” Tyler turned. A tall man stood in the doorway. His brown hair was disheveled, like he’d been running his hands through it, but the hard amber of his eyes was as unyielding as stone. “You’re up early.”
“Finally,” Tyler said, folding his arms. “I came for an update on my case.”
The detective studied him for a moment. “This way, Mr. Lomax,” he said, stepping back and holding open the door.
Tyler strode through, muttering under his breath. Walker took them to an interview room and shutting them in.
“You’re avoiding me,” Tyler said.
“Why would I avoid such pleasant company as yours?” Walker replied, standing with his hands in his pockets. There were shadows under his eyes and spots of blood on his collar.
“I’mserious,” Tyler said, lifting his gaze from the stain. “You don’t think I’m serious? Because I can show you just how serious I am, if that’s what you want.”
“Is that why you’re here so early? To threaten me?” Walker replied, pulling out one of the plastic chairs from around the small table and sitting. “Or have you finally come to confess to that assault outside theGolden Fleece?”
Tyler bridled. “I’m talking aboutmyassault, arsehole. That psycho haemo that attacked me. You know, the one that no one’s trying to find?”
“What about the criminal damage to Baron Von Magnusson’s home, then?” Walker said coolly. “Perhaps you’d like to confess to that instead?”
“This isbullshit. That thing nearly killed me.Killedme.”
Walker surveyed him a moment longer then gestured to the other chair. “Have a seat, Tyler.”
“I won’t have a seat. I want to know what you’re doing about this.”
Walker’s only response was to push the chair out from the table with his foot.
Tyler swore and slumped into it, glaring at the detective.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re really here this early?”
Tyler’s skin rippled at the look in his eyes. “I told you. I wanted an update.”
“So you don’t know anything about the four men we found on the stairs this morning?”
Tyler blinked. “What?”
