The Silence. Joss Stirling

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter 3

       Jonah, Present Day

      ‘So Jonah, we have a call here logged to the emergency services at 23.53. The caller identifies himself as you. Is that correct?’

      Jonah sipped his water. ‘Yes. I made the call.’

      The senior of the two police officers in the interrogation room flicked through the transcript of the brief conversation. Seen across the table like this, it looked like a script. ‘You said that you feared you’d hurt someone. Is that also correct?’ The inspector wouldn’t have been cast though in this role if this were a drama; he looked too scruffy and had several piercing holes in each ear. A director would’ve put him on the other side of the table with Jonah. ‘You requested the police as well as an ambulance. Please answer for the record.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And can you tell us what you meant by that?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ The events were an ugly mess, like dropping a plate of spaghetti Bolognese and trying to retrieve the pasta strand by strand. Why was he even thinking of food? Jonah hadn’t slept since they arrested him. How many hours ago? God knows. He ran his hand over his face. This place was scarily familiar. He’d sat in numerous sets exactly like this one recently but none had the same smell as the real thing, the smell of sweat and some cheap industrial floor cleaner. TV sets weren’t around long enough to get the odour infused into the walls.

      ‘Jonah? Can you answer the question please?’

      ‘Sorry: what did you ask?’

      ‘I asked in what way you hurt her?’

      He had a sudden jolt of realisation. These people would know. He wouldn’t be left speculating as he had been in the police cell. ‘Is she OK?’

      The officers exchanged a look, debating between them if this was something that was better kept from him or not.

      ‘Please. She’s a …’ what was she exactly? ‘… she’s a friend.’

      The scruffy man, Detective Inspector something, nodded to his female sergeant. Jonah had already forgotten their names. Nothing was sticking in his brain, wiped clean of everything but her scream.

      ‘Her respiration was compromised,’ replied the sergeant, a fresh-faced woman with sandy hair tucked back behind her ears, ‘she’s still in a coma, still critical, and we’ve no word yet as to whether she’ll survive.’

      He’d heard the ambulance men discussing it. They hadn’t realised at that time that he was the chief suspect and instead they’d been impressed to meet the actor who played them on TV. They’d talked to him like he was one of them for real. They told him as if he already knew: interrupted breathing leads to oxygen deficiency which in turn could result in brain damage. He probably had known that, but he just hadn’t been thinking, only reacting.

      ‘Will you let me know the minute she wakes up?’ he asked.

      ‘There’s no certainty she will. We’re still trying to establish exactly what took place. This might turn into a murder enquiry. Are you prepared for that?’

      He bit his ragged nail. ‘I still want to know.’

      ‘Why, Jonah? Are you afraid what she might remember?’ The inspector leant forward, body language intended to dominate.

      Wishing his brain would stop note-taking on movement as if he were studying for a future role, Jonah shook his head. What he’d meant was that he wished to apologise for losing it with her, but he didn’t want to make anything that sounded like an admission of guilt. His frantic words on the emergency call were bad enough without adding that. ‘I just want to know that she’s OK.’

      ‘I wouldn’t wait until she can tell her side of the story, if I were you,’ said the inspector. СКАЧАТЬ