HIDDEN SECRETS (16 page)

“I need to make some phone calls I’ll see you later Alex, and thanks for all you’ve done.” Charles stood up.

“I wish there was more I could do,” he replied solemnly.

“There’s something I need to tell you Alex. It’s to do with Emma’s past, and I don’t want it getting in the papers. What I’m about to tell you must never go outside of this room.”

“Of course, what is it Charles?”

“You have to promise me.”

“I promise; now what’s wrong?”

Charles sighed and ran a hand across his chin.

“When I first met Emma she was married, but she wasn’t happy. Her husband Leo Marshall was a policeman stationed in Gloucestershire; I think he was a sergeant, not that it matters. They had nice house in Bath and I don’t think money was an issue, but their marriage was breaking up; he was constantly on duty and Emma couldn’t adjust to being a policeman’s wife. She was very young when she married him and became pregnant almost immediately. They had a child a boy named George; he was just two years old when I met her. When she told Leo she was leaving him and taking the child with her, he gave her an ultimatum. She could leave, but she couldn’t have George. So she gave up her son to be with me.”

“She must have really loved you Charles.”

“I know, so how can you possibly think I could hurt her?”

“I’m sorry you should have told me sooner.”

“Emma fought her husband through the legal system, but he knew exactly what to say and convinced them that Emma was an unfit mother. Leo was awarded custody, and she had to be content with monthly supervised visits. I used to dread her visiting him; she would come home red-eyed and depressed. It took days for her to return to normal and then it would happen all over again,” he explained.

“What about Emma’s mother, did she have any contact with the boy?”

“No, not after she separated from Leo. He was very bitter and refused to even speak to her on the phone. Leo will have to be told about Emma’s death,” Charles looked troubled.

“I’m sure he’ll find out, it’ll be hard to keep it out of the papers,” Alex replied.

“George is the only part of Emma I’ve got left. I really want to see him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Charles.”

“I’ve hired a private detective to find him. Leo is living in Cornwall now. If anything happens to me, will you give this letter to him?” Charles handed Alex a sealed envelope.

“Nothings going to happen to you Charles, but if it makes you feel better, yes I will.”

“Thank you and please don’t repeat anything I’ve told you to anyone,” Charles urged.

“You have my word, I promise,” Alex shook his hand.

Charles left the room and Alex realised he hadn’t called Inspector Salt.

Making his way to his office, he slipped the letter into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

************************************

Patrick Hinds was facing a long journey in a car which was extremely unreliable; it barely started on the previous morning, and there was a strange noise coming from the back axel. He now discovered that the heaters had stopped working. To make matters worse the traffic had barely moved in twenty minutes, and the engine temperature was soaring to a dangerous level. Consulting his map, he decided to turn off the main road and take the ‘B’ road. It would make his journey slightly longer, but the road couldn’t possibly be as congested as this one. With the exception of an occasion car and motorcycle, the road was deserted, but it twisted and turned and in parts and was only just wide enough to allow one vehicle to pass safely. Negotiating a blind bend Pat reached for a cigarette. Unable to find his lighter he took his eyes off the road for a split second. Noticing it had slipped to the back of the passenger seat; he stretched over to grab it and flicked it on. Before he had time to light the cigarette, he heard the sound of crashing metal and a heavy thud on his windscreen as a motorbike hurtled through the air. A man’s body slid down the windscreen leaving a trail of deep red blood as he fell to the ground.

“Jesus Christ; where the fuck did he come from!” Pat shouted aloud. Hitting the brakes as hard as he could, he sent the car spinning and screeching into the grass embankment. Stunned and motionless, Pat stared in horror as the motorbike’s wheels whizzed round and round in the air. Time seemed to stand still, it could have been seconds or minutes as he stared trance-like at the carnage before his eyes. Seized by blind panic and terror, Pat pushed the car door open and stumbled over to the injured man who was still motionless. He searched frantically for a pulse fearing the victim was already dead. Desperately prodding the man’s neck repeatedly, he eventually detected a sign of life. It was very weak, but it was there.  Breathing a sigh of relief, he phoned for an ambulance which arrived ten minutes later, followed by a police car.

      Pat watched on anxiously as a team of paramedics rushed to help the motionless victim, who lay on his back with his head tilted to the side. Two police officers got out of their vehicle and approached Pat, who was becoming more and more distressed by the minute.

“Thank goodness you’re here. He’s still alive but he hasn’t moved or spoken yet,” he said pacing up and down in a state of severe agitation.

“What’s your name Sir?” the fresh-faced policeman asked.

“Hinds, Patrick Hinds,” he replied shakily.

“I’m P.C. Paul Whiston, and this is P.C. Glynn Kelly. Can you tell us exactly what happened?

“He just came out of nowhere, I didn’t see him until he hit the screen,” Pat explained.

“Were you distracted by anything at all? Perhaps you took your eyes off the road for a second or two?” P.C Whiston asked.

“No not at all. Why are you trying to blame me? He came out of nowhere, I’ve just told you. You’ve only got to look at the road, he was in the middle of it and I couldn’t avoid him,” Pat knew he was lying.

“It’s a tight bend alright, but we only have your word for what happened; and in accidents similar to this, most car drivers claim the motorcyclist was to blame.” P.C Whiston doubted his account of the accident and Pat knew the reason why, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth. The fact that he had taken his eyes off the road for a split second to light a cigarette was unforgivable. What if the man died? He would have to live with the consequences for the rest of his life.

As Pat contemplated his rash actions, a further police car arrived conveying two more officers to the scene of the accident, where the area was cordoned off. They were followed shortly by an unmarked police car carrying a team of accident investigators, who promptly began to measure skid marks and take photographs from every conceivable angle.

        The motorbike rider, who still hadn’t regained consciousness, was attended by two paramedics, as his condition was ascertained. P.C. Kelly approached one of the paramedics and enquired of his condition.

“It’s very likely he’s sustained a serious spinal injury,” Matt, one of the paramedics informed him.

“What are his chances?” Kelly asked.

“Without knowing the full extent of his injuries it’s hard to say. We’ll have a better idea when we get to the hospital,” he replied, securing the patient to a spinal board.

“How’s the car driver?” he added.

“He seems to be in a state of shock, but he’s only received a few minor cuts.”

“Does he need any medical attention?”

“I don’t think so, but you can check him over if you like?”

“Do we have any I.D. on the biker?” Kelly enquired.

“We’ve found a wallet with his driving licence, his name sounds Dutch to me,” Matt handed it to P.C. Kelly.

“There’s a few phone numbers in here; perhaps one of them is a relative.”

“We have to move him now, so if there are no more questions I must get on,” Matt urged.

“No, carry on.”

“I’ll just take a look at your car driver before I go.”

Still protesting Pat was given the all-clear but warned of the possibility of concussion, and advised not to drive for a few hours.

“You might feel alright now, but you’re in shock. It sometimes doesn’t become apparent until later,” he warned Pat.

“I’ll bear that in mind thanks.”

“Don’t worry Matt he won’t be driving anywhere for a while,” P.C. Kelly assured him.

Matt returned to the injured biker and assisted his colleagues as they transferred him to the awaiting ambulance. Seconds later with its siren wailing, the ambulance sped away out of sight.

P.C. Kelly now turned his attention back to Pat who was drawing nervously on another cigarette.

“You’ll have to be breathalysed Mr. Hinds. If you’ll follow me to the patrol car we can get on with it.”

“How much longer will I have to be detained, I have an appointment to keep? Pat asked glancing at his watch.

“You won’t be going anywhere until your vehicle has been thoroughly checked over and released by our accident inspectors. If it’s found to be defective you’ll be arrested and charged,” P.C Kelly replied. The young P.C. seemed to be enjoying the misery he was inflicting on Pat.

“I bet you really enjoy your job, don’t you Constable?” Pat replied.

The young P.C. didn’t reply as he ordered Pat to blow into the breathalyser. Taking a deep breath, Pat willingly obliged. After examining the machine, P.C. Kelly looked up.

“You’ve tested negative Sir, which is good news for you.”

“Not really, I don’t drink alcohol,” Pat replied proudly.

Unaccustomed to declaring his sobriety, Pat knew that at this precise moment he could effortlessly down a bottle of scotch without taking a breath. Giving up drinking had been easier than he had anticipated, but during moments of intense stress, he would have to fight desperately hard to resist the temptation. This was one of those moments and the temptation was eating away at him.

“You’ll have to accompany us to the station now Sir. Please get into the car,” P.C Whiston led him away

“I don’t really have a choice do I?”

“We’re just doing our duty Sir; you’ll probably be free to go in a few hours.”

The short journey to the police station was spent in silence with the exception of the occasional crackling on the radio. On arrival, he was escorted to the desk sergeant who proceeded to ask a chain of irrelevant questions before he was officially interviewed. Almost two hours later, he was asked to take a seat in the waiting area by which time, his patience was wearing thin. An elderly lady sitting opposite was staring intently at him.

“Are you in trouble young man?” she leaned forward.

“No, I’m a witness,” he smiled and added, “What about you?”

“I lost my watch and someone handed it in. I’m just here to pick it up. It’s nice to know there are still some honest people about.”

Pat was called to the desk.

“I have to go now, I’m glad you’ve found your watch.”

“Your car has been inspected and found to have no serious defects despite the age and condition of it,” the desk Sergeant informed him. 

“It’s a piece of shit,” Pat spoke his thoughts then turned to the elderly lady.

“Sorry about my language.”

“What did you say dear?” she asked. Before he had time to reply the officer spoke again.

“The damage from the impact of the crash needs to be repaired as soon as possible. We really shouldn’t let you drive it, but I believe you have an appointment to keep?”

“I did have. I’ll get it fixed later today,” Pat lied again.

“Make sure you do.”

“Is there any news on the biker?” Pat asked the Inspector before he left.

“No, but we’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything.”

“Thanks, I’ve left my mobile number with the sergeant.”

Pat collected his car and eventually rejoined the road. Still somewhat shaken but more shocked at what a moments lapse in concentration could lead to, he drove with extreme caution vowing to deliver complete and unfaltering attention to the road. Realising how lucky he’d been not to have been charged with dangerous driving, he attempted to push the injured biker out of his mind. A few hours later the old Ford Mondeo; complete with a huge dent in the bonnet, arrived amidst the flat landscape of Lincolnshire. Avoiding the city centre, Pat turned off the road as he passed the County Showground and headed towards Stow. With an abundance of churches and arable land, he wasn’t very impressed with the landscape; he preferred rugged cliffs and rolling hills. Scottish scenery was his favourite; he had vivid memories of his last visit there. The silent eeriness of Glen Coe would stay with him forever. If you listened hard enough into the grey skies and desolate hills, you could almost hear the cries of the highlanders who had fought there hundreds of years earlier. It was like nowhere else on earth, and to him it was the pinnacle of beauty and serenity. Bringing his mind back to the present, Pat realised he had missed the tuning for Stow and stopped the car.