CHAPTER 23
The conversation with Thomas was rather unpleasant, especially since he was up and screaming. This hadn't happened to him for a long time. However, William understood that it was him that should take the blame for Tom's rage. All the problems had come up at once and now there had been several complaints over his behavior, as well as biased rumors of more incidents. In addition, someone had said that he'd taken some anti-anxiety medication, and complaints from the Central Hospital and the psychiatric clinic only added fuel to the fire. The incident with the reporter was the last straw, and William was temporarily suspended from his duties as a result. All the top dogs from the state police and the folks up top at city hall had descended on Tom's office at once like hawks – the last to arrive were the state attorney and the mayor. Yet, how did they all hear about this so quickly? Why were they more concerned about the antics of an ordinary policeman as opposed to planned robberies?
'You've always said that justice comes before everything and now you're mincing every last word of that. You've let me down, Sgt. Huston, Felicia – everyone! We all bend over backwards trying to help you. With this situation, everyone in this office is vital and now you go and get yourself into trouble? What the hell were you thinking?'
'William listened to Tom and realized there was nothing he could do. The recent days' events slowly faded away from him in all different directions, and he gradually sank deeper into the emotional abyss.
Having removed his mask, William went outside and got into his car. Its engine purred with its usual low rumble once he'd turned the key. He didn't remember anything about the journey home, only turning the key in the ignition. In the living room, his floor was littered with printouts of files and photographs, notepads and pens. He threw them next to the files of different years, so he didn't have to look far for references.
Something caught William's attention as he looked over a series of cases, which seemed to be the solution to his current nightmare. William knelt down and began to look over some familiar names, adding small comments to them and drawing little sketches in the corners. These were people and houses, cars and policemen, courtrooms and judges. By doing it this way, it became easier for William to work out any relationships between these things, but none had arrived in his mind so far. He changed his hunched pose and began to lay with his back to the wall and close his eyes. Meanwhile, outside his house a car had stopped and a minute or so later, a knock came at the door. Taking his gun holster, William slowly walked down the corridor and looked through the peephole. There stood a woman that somehow seemed familiar.
William realized that this woman was the same cable TV reporter as earlier. He felt a hot sweat over his face, and his heart began to pound wildly in his chest. The reporter wasn't here by chance, and William's intuition suggested that he must find out something new.
'Hello!' William said, opening the front door. He could ask the woman a lot of questions, but waited for his unexpected guest to continue the conversation.
'Do you mind if I come in?' the young woman asked, her eyes tired after a long and difficult day.
'Not at all, please, come in. Sorry, the room's a bit of a mess, so please just sit down on the sofa. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can offer you – the whiskey's all gone, poured down the sink. Your name's Linda Wu, right?'
'Yes, you've got a good memory.'
'Of course, when you're reminded of something a hundred times, you'll remember it for a lifetime. Sorry, since I've been temporarily suspended, I'm forced to stay at home. Could you tell me why you're here, please? It's late,' William sat on a chair near the doorway, so as not to crumple any papers below.
'It's my professional curiosity, to be honest,' Linda answered.
'Go on. I'm not surprised.'
'Really? I heard you had a serious problem.'
'In a way, yes, but you haven't come to me about that, right? You can't report my life to the network.'
'I just know some things about you that you might find unpleasant, but if you don't mind…'
'Linda, stop muttering! Speak clearly. I can see something's wrong,' William replied sharply.
'As far as I'm aware, your wife was close to her therapist, but he offended her. That's the first thing I've heard. Secondly, your daughter appears to be alive and you're searching for her because you supposedly found her hair in the therapist's car. Your daughter is alive since you were given fake test results. The other person's corpse was in her grave. Besides, your daughter may have a child, so at the moment, you're trying to understand everything that's going on. In doing so, you blame yourself for the loss of your wife and daughter.'
'Who told you that?' William yanked his shirt collar in anger as he spoke, wheezing. He needed to take a sedative, but the desire to hear her response made him stay put for now.
'This man said that he'd saved your daughter from you because he loved her. I've no idea who he is, but he called me this morning and said that you could tell me a bit more. I mean, it's evident you didn't love your daughter that much since you worked all hours, got addicted to pills and then handed her over to a psychiatric clinic.'
'Who told you that?' William sparked in anger, having lost his temper. Instead of Linda answering, a phone rang. William checked his pocket, but it wasn't his, and was instead Linda's. The confusion emerged since the two of them had the same pre-installed ringtone. Linda took her phone in surprise and shrugged. 'Who is it?' William asked, feeling that the call was related to the events that had unfolded here.
'I don't know since the number was withheld,' She wanted to decline the call, but William waved his hand, shouting at her:
'Answer it! Yes, yes, answer! It's him, I think it's him!'
'Who?' Linda looked at William in fear, with his eyes bulging and mouth wide open. He pressed an icon on the phone, before bringing it to her ear and heard a familiar voice.
'Hi! It's me. Can you pass the phone to Bill please?' silence was heard after that. Linda looked confused before handing the phone to William.
'What? he croaked.
'He's asking for you…' she said quietly. William walked past the sheets spread out across the floor and picked up Linda's phone. 'Lieutenant Lindstone speaking.'
'Lieutenant Lindstone, how proud you sound,' the voice on the other end declared, mockingly. Its owner had obviously disguised his voice with a nose pinch or similar.
'Who are you?'
'It does not matter. I know where your daughter is – that matters.'
'And what do you want? Money?' William felt sweat running down his face and the screen stuck to his cheek.
'Money? No, I don't need that. I just need justice to prevail. As they say, justice is above all, isn't it? Although it hurts sometimes.'
'Who are you?' William spoke with greater calmness than before, desperately attempting to recognize the voice on the other end. 'Do I know you?'
'That's not important. Do you want to see your daughter? Maybe someone else too?'
'What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean?'
'You can find out for yourself. M1 highway, 24th mile, just by the Shell gas station. I think you can get there before midnight – good luck!' the speaker's last words came in a mocking tone, following which short signals were heard in the receiver.
'God, I feel stupid. I need to check that number urgently,' William began to pace around the room, without any care for the now crumpled paper underfoot. He thought about asking Tom for help, but he just kept hearing the same answer: 'You are suspended!'
William realized that someone was might've been deliberately luring him to the gas station, but then again, who would make such a threat? What could happen at the gas station? No threats had been made, but why would this stranger send the reporter and make a call to her phone? Why had everything become so complicated, if there wasn't anything dangerous ahead? The most likely explanation for all this was that the man was afraid of William. This thought dawned on him and it immediately became easier for William to think straight. It's only cowards that don't confront people. If somebody wanted to harm him, then they could come to William's house any time without having to do it in such a long-winded manner.
Then came a question, 'What's wrong with you?'
William had forgotten about the reporter.
'Nothing at all. He just wants me to go somewhere, so thanks for your help, but I really need to go.'
'What? Are you just going to leave me here?', she asked.
'Yes,' William snapped. 'I can't waste any more time. Let's talk later if you want,' he walked to the door, opened it and Linda left without saying goodbye. She heard him dialing a number behind her, so stopped. 'Tom?' William asked, 'Can you talk? Do you know the Shell gas station at mile 24?'. Linda couldn't make anything else out, but realized William was going there now. 'Can you meet me there? Thanks buddy. Yes, I'm leaving now and I'll wait for you. See you there.'
When Lieutenant Lindstone's car passed her by, Linda was waiting for a taxi that she'd managed to order, whilst he drove out of his garage. Five minutes later, a yellow car drove up to the sidewalk, and she got into the back seat, hiding from the cold wind. Now, she didn't need to rush. She knew the address, so the main thing was to tell the driver to stop before reaching the gas station and stay hidden.