It took 10 minutes to get to the police station. When we got there, Tyler put me into a small room, sat me down and left. He was gone for a while.
I was, of course, in an interrogation room. It felt like hundreds of years before Tyler came back, but it was probably closer to an hour or so. When he did come back, he was alone - I thought he'd bring another officer or something with him but, no, he was alone. He had a small folder in his hands.
Tyler closed the door behind him, sighed and sat down. The sigh really annoyed me - like I had been away for over an hour?
"Mr. Laidlaw," said he, looking at me. Then: "How come you were there at the last two murders?"
I looked at him. I felt anxious - but there was an overriding feeling of anger which had gripped me now. "I just was," I replied. "I was walking from work, then I was walking to work. I just stumbled across them. That's it."
"Yeah, maybe that's true, Max - can I call you Max?"
"No."
Another sigh. "Maybe that's true. But, you've got to admit; it's all a bit weird."
"Coincidence, yeah."
"Look, there is nobody who is blaming you, but the evidence is stacked up against you now," Tyler was speaking softly - he sounded tired. He leaned back in his chair.
"What evidence?"
"You were there at two of the scenes-"
"Oh, yeah - forgot modern science was so accurate."
"-And we found some prints, Max."
"What prints? Whose?" I leaned forward - I was angry; this was so stupid now.
"We don't know whose prints yet, but I'll be very surprised if they weren't yours."
"Why? What other evidence have you got against me other than I was just there at the scene of the crimes?"
"Max," said Tyler, "Come on. Save us some time."
"Tell me about your evidence."
"First, you were there--"
"Not evidence."
"Then we found prints, may be yours - we took your prints when you came in, we have yours, we'll find out that your prints were found on the body. Also - and this is probably the most damning - I quickly got a warrant to search your flat whilst you were at Jones's house - we found this."
He then slammed down a see through evidence bag. In it was a small apple-cutting knife, along with a long kitchen knife - both of them had a lot of blood on them.
"What?" said I, looking up at Tyler.
"Where not sure whose blood it is yet, but that doesn't matter. What matters is, it clearly isn't your blood so, either way, you've hurt or killed someone, and we're gonna find out who." He then grabbed his evidence and file, stood and went to the door.
"I've been framed, surely."
He opened the door and went through it.
"How are you so shit at your job!?" I shouted after him but he was gone, closing the door behind him.
I was alone.
I can't tell you what John Jones was doing. I wasn't there. But, my hope was that he was finding away to get me out of here. However, I was sure that I was getting out of here - of course, my DNA wasn't on anything.
I was sitting by myself for about 40 minutes in the interrogation room. For the first 15 minutes or so, I felt cold, my chest tight and my belly empty. But, as the time went on, I felt more anger - how could D.I Tyler be so stupid? When he came back I was full of anger, but I said nothing to him, letting him speak at me.
"We're gonna put me in a holding cell," he said. I dropped my eyes to the floor. I didn't look at him again for a while. "Just for a night or so until we get those results back." I wasn't sure how long I could actually be held here; I wasn't exactly caught up on the law. Suppose that way they could do whatever they want with me, because I knew nothing about what they were doing.
I was put in a holding cell. There were two other guys in here with me - I think one of was a lot older and the other was a big fat guy, but I'm not too sure; I never really looked down from the floor, and none of us really spoke to one another.
I must've been in that cell for the whole rest of the day. Thoughts of John Jones came to me every now and again but he wasn't on my mind too much - the thing is, I was just angry. I thought about what I was going to do, how bad it could get, how powerless I was, how powerful I should be. I felt a tiny bit of panic, too. I've not mentioned this yet, but I'm not white - I am English, but the stress a black man feels when he's in a police station is exponential.
So, I sat there for a good 6 hours, just waiting. I hated the fact that I need John Jones to help me get out of here so that was the situation I was in, so it was what it was. I was hoping John was trying to figure out a way to get me out. He said he would, so...
When 6 hours had past, I noticed it was dark outside. So, I lay down and closed my eyes. I didn't sleep at all - maybe an hour or so here and there, but no, I did not sleep. I repeated this for another night, then a whole day. I had been in the holding cell for about 30 hours before D.I Tyler came to me. I told me that my D.N.A was found on the dead man's clothes - my hair and bits of my blood was on his suit, too. It felt like getting a plank in the teeth. I was speechless. Tyler then let me know I was officially being charged and I was handcuffed and sent to my very own cell.
Before the closed the door, I asked Tyler about John Jones. In reply, Tyler smiled and said, "Max, there is nothing John Jones can do for you." He then slammed the door shut in my face.
I felt hope leave me as I sighed. Maybe John Jones wasn't doing anything. I did have a strong feeling that he was coming to at least visit me before my court date (whenever that would be). I had no idea, in reality, but I had hope.
Surely I wouldn't go to prison for a crime I didn't commit. How lazy could the police be?
I lay down and looked up at the white ceiling.