Torment (Primal Progeny Book 1) (17 page)

Hunter nodded silently and rose from where he had been seated, kicking himself for his tired brain’s failure to notice their scents wafting through the doorway. The last thing he needed was to look cocky and arrogant. He crossed to the doorway silently and followed the three down the hallway and back into the interview room. This time Audra seated herself next to him and pulled an official looking notebook from a briefcase he had somehow failed to notice she had been carrying. She nodded curtly at Truman who flicked on the tape recorder before settling back in his seat.

Hunter could not help noticing that the atmosphere in the room seemed infinitely more tense this time around; both Jaunt and Truman reeked of uncertainty… They were swaying. They were no longer certain that he was the culprit.

Jaunt addressed the tape, reeling off the time, date, and suspect name in a flat tone of voice before beginning her line of questioning with Hunter anew.

‘Your solicitor tells us you have a few forgotten details for us Mr. Johanson?’ She spat the word forgotten as though it left a sour taste in her mouth.

Hunter looked up and into the scornful eyes of the woman questioning him, his eyes grazing over her thin frame draped in the same skirt suit as the previous day. Mixed with the anger he could smell radiating from her was a dense undertone of cloying desperation. She needed to make an arrest on this case and for it to be the right man that was convicted… He suspected that if he did not make his story utterly flawless she would continue to have him detained indefinitely until another murder was committed.

‘That is correct yes. The trauma of finding the young woman almost blotted it from my mind.’

‘Care to tell me about it?’ She barked back at him, her patience almost worn to non-existence.

Hunter nodded and told her the story he had been given by Audra down to the finest detail. Though he did not once look at the pack member sat beside him he could feel her gaze boring into him, willing him to remember each part of the lie perfectly.

Whilst he spoke the two detectives regarded him in stony silence, neither of them giving any visual indications as to whether they believed his story was true or not. Only once he had finished talking did their expressions change. Truman lent back in his chair and glanced agitatedly at his colleague, and Jaunt folded her hands neatly in her lap, striving to look composed and unruffled. Despite the smoothness of her actions somehow she failed.

‘We shall call this man immediately Mr. Johanson. For now we have no further questions and you may go back to your cell.’ She interrupted before he could continue weaving his tale.

Truman flicked the recorder on the table back to off and both detectives scraped back their chairs and rose to their feet. Jaunt made for the door and left without looking back at her suspect, leaving Truman alone with the two shape-shifters. The ageing policeman scowled slightly and pointed to the door.

‘Lets not dawdle. I’ll show you back to your cell now Mr. Johanson.’ He instructed.

Hunter nodded and both he and Audra stood in perfect unison. She held out her hand for him to shake, trying to look official he supposed. He took the hand that was offered to him and shook it limply, not wishing to appear aggressive. Then she turned and left the room, nodding to Truman as she went and disappearing down the hallway with the rhythmic clacking of heels on tile flooring.

Hunter knew he would be expected to walk ahead of Truman and followed Audra after only a moment’s pause. As he passed the other man he was hit by a strong wave of the scent of indecision, and he could not help but feel a little hope. He swung open the door and made his way back to his cell without complaint; Truman hovering over his shoulder and locking his cell door behind him noisily.

Chapter 17

Full of the pointless energy that always filled him after the change Hunter paced the room for a while, taking in every squalid detail of the barren cell. He knew the place was not designed for comfort but for one of his kind it was especially unpleasant. The air was stale and full of old and soured scents, sweat and blood intermingling with the sharp scent of cheap cleaning products. Wrinkling his nose he wished he had a t-shirt to pull over his sensitive nostrils, and found himself wondering if this was usual treatment for a suspect. Surely part of his basic human rights was to be given something to cover himself after being found soaking wet out in the cold and obviously traumatised?

This disjointed train of thought was quickly replaced by more pressing matters when his roaming eyes spotted the dried splashes of blood next to the cot… The change had been so sudden and forceful that he had not been able to influence the order of things, and he knew that he had split his lips and gums. It had happened many times (as well as many other injuries) when he had first begun to change at the full moon in his youth. This however was far more inconvenient; he would have to explain it away as a nosebleed and hope they did not notice the pattern of the splashing… His mind was filled with a rolling cloud of worries and doubts. What if somebody had seen or heard his change and he had failed to notice? What if they tested the blood splatter from his floor and found irregularities, what would that mean for the pack and the rest of his kind? Was the pack ready to divert or collect the phone call to call in another of their number to reinforce their web of deceit? What had Audra said his alibi’s real name was…? He couldn’t remember! It was all beginning to get too much and he was terrified he would forget key details… And what about the swabs Audra had warned him he would have to have taken?

He slumped down onto the cot just as heavy footsteps began to echo down the corridor towards his cell. Looking up the scruffy curtain of his fringe, Hunter listened as they stopped on the far side of the door and sat up straight as a key rattled in the lock.

The door swung open to reveal the figure of detective Truman backlit by the harsh lighting from the hallway.

‘Come with me please Mr. Johanson.’ He commanded firmly, waiting and watching like a hawk as Hunter rose and moved towards the door. He was led down the hall in silence and ushered into a clinical looking, starkly furnished room. Here the walls were painted white and there were small windows with wire mesh running through the glass near the ceiling. These ran along the top of one wall and through them he could faintly see the outside world.  In the centre of the room stood a sparkling medical table, and along the four walls ran a row of cupboards with shining locks and pristine clean worktops sitting atop of them.  In the far corner by a door with the word ‘toilet’ clearly emblazoned on it stood a middle aged woman in a white lab coat. Her red hair was scraped back into a neat bun and a set of delicately framed spectacles balanced on her button nose, shielding a set of cold grey eyes. She nodded to Truman and stepped away from what she had been doing on the counter top to the middle of the room. Hunter awkwardly half smiled as Truman closed the door behind them. He was unsure of what was about to occur, but almost certain in his paranoid mind that the tests would be invasive. He had hoped by some miracle that she would be one of his kind, but as she stepped forwards her scent hit him as distinctly human. She smelled strongly of medical disinfectant and a floral perfume that he found too strong and a little unpleasant. There was definitely no wolf in her. As she opened her mouth to introduce herself, he found himself desperately hoping that the pack would find a way to get their hands on whatever samples she was about to request.

‘Hello Mr. Johanson’ she kept her hands by her sides as she spoke, and her face remained impassive. ‘My name is Dr Amberly and as I’m sure you have guessed you have been bought to me so that we can take some samples from you.’

Hunter nodded dumbly as she addressed detective Truman over his shoulder.

‘I trust he has not been allowed the opportunity to wash?’

Although Hunter did not hear a vocal response from the old male detective, he guessed he must have shaken his head as Dr Amberly nodded curtly in response.

She turned her attention back to him and gestured to the table behind her. ‘If you would please take a seat Mr. Johanson while I prepare to take some specimens from you.’

Hunter nodded and sat himself heavily onto the tabletop with his legs hanging off the side and his feet planted firmly on the floor. He had a feeling he wouldn’t remain seated for long.

Truman glared at him whilst the Doctor prepared her things, Hunter ignoring the other man and watching her nervously.

When she finally turned around after what seemed like an eternity, she held a tube containing a swab in one freshly gloved hand. Advancing towards him she unscrewed the cap on the tube and instructed him to open his mouth. He did as he was bidden, and endured the swab being stuffed into his mouth and rubbed roughly between his gums and the inside of his cheek. When she withdrew the swab she briefly inspected it and sighed. Sealing it in the tube she threw the whole thing in the hazardous waste bin in the corner.

‘Your gums are bleeding.’ She explained agitatedly. ‘I’ll have to take another couple of samples, that one will have been no good to us.’

Hunter nodded blankly and allowed her to take two more swabs from his rapidly drying mouth. The first she carefully rubbed only against his inner cheek. For the second she hooked his lip out of the way with her left hand, and carefully blotted at the blood seeping from the roots of his teeth. She muttered to herself as she sealed and labelled the second specimen, something about no evidence of gum disease and a healthy mouth otherwise. She was glad she had chosen thicker gloves for this one. She suspected some kind of nasty, underlying ailment.

Hunter’s mind suddenly filled with panic that she would send the blood for a more thorough examination, and he found himself jabbering something about needing to visit the dentist. She nodded in response but did not answer; picking up another tube and swab and moistening the end with a liquid he wasn’t familiar with. She then rubbed this into the hair on his chest and popped it back into the tube. Repeating this process with an obvious bloodstain on his trousers she then carefully labelled each tube. Then she handed him two sample pots and instructed him to go to the bathroom.

‘Why two?’ He asked.

‘We need both a urine and a semen sample from you Mr. Johanson.’ She stated flatly.

Hunter’s face screwed into a look of confusion. ‘Semen?’

Dr Amberly nodded. ‘Yes. Very rarely semen does not match other samples routinely collected by the police for our database. As I’m sure you can imagine in a case as high profile as this one and with so much at stake, the usual rules do not apply.’

Hunter struggled to formulate a response for a moment, she had as good as told him that taking this sample was against the rules. ‘That can’t be correct?’ He eventually spluttered.

She nodded unsympathetically. ‘Do a little research into famous murder cases and you’ll see that it is. Now please collect our samples Mr. Johanson.’

In disbelief Hunter stepped into the toilet and locked the door behind him; looking about the tiny, brightly lit room in disbelief. How did they honestly expect him to…? It was hardly an arousing situation! Urine he could provide but he was certain that semen would be an impossibility.

Slowly lowering the toilet seat lid he seated himself heavily on it and put his head in his hands. Things were getting worse and worse…

*****

On the far side of the door Amberly and Truman stood in tense silence for a while, Amberly eventually breaking the quiet with a small cough. Tapping her chest with a loosely clasped fist she quietly muttered ‘excuse me.’

Truman nodded slightly, silently allowing the intrusion into the quiet to be excused.

Amberly shifted her weight from one foot to the other and sighed.

‘Do you think perhaps we should have given him some kind of material to use?’ She questioned ‘it’s imperative we get that sample.’

Truman scowled and shook his head firmly ‘why should we give him the luxury? We’ll wait it out as long as it takes and I’m sure if he can’t manage it there’s some other method of extracting it?’

Amberly scowled slightly, not sure what was being suggested to her ‘what do you…’

Truman cut her off ‘don’t tell me you can’t stick a needle in it and draw some out?’

Amberly shuddered ‘how would you like a large gauge needle shoved into one you your testicles Mr. Truman?’

Truman stared at her blankly. ‘Murderers, especially of this sort don’t get the same luxuries as the rest of us.’

Amberly returned his glare, unconsciously backing away a step and coming to rest with her rear propped against the medical table. ‘We can’t be certain –’

Truman’s scowl deepened ‘Surely in some instances its better to be safe than sorry though Miss Amberly.’

Amberly looked away from his gaze and glanced briefly at the door to the toilet before scanning over the specimens she had already collected. ‘How long shall we leave it before we knock?’ She asked.

Truman took this as a hint and stepped towards the door, rapping sharply on it with his knuckles.  ‘What are you doing in there?’ He called ‘we don’t have all day!’ He then turned and began to make his way towards the door to the exam room, calling over his shoulder as he went. ‘I’m off to get us a cup of tea each Amberly, we could be here a while.’

On the far side of the door Hunter lifted his head from his hands and stared in the direction of the voice. He had to give them something or they’d never let him leave.

Standing slowly he lifted the toilet seat and began to unzip his trousers. Lifting his head he suddenly noticed the air vent above the cistern, and the dust that had fallen from it clinging to the porcelain there.

Leaning forward he lent against the wall with one hand and ran his fingers along the bottom of the rusted grating with the other. It had been tampered with, and judging by the looseness of the dust, which fell at the slightest touch of his work haggard hand, it had happened recently.

Carefully he hooked his finger into the grating and tugged gently, he was instantly rewarded by the grating pulling away from the wall. The sound it made seemed loud to him but he knew that the humans on the far side of the door had no chance of hearing it… Though he still looked over his shoulder as he carefully placed the metal sheet down onto the cistern as a precaution. 

Standing on his toes he tried to look into the vent but found he was marginally too short. Instead he carefully began to explore the space with his fingers; conscious that if he knocked anything over onto the metal it would alert them he was up to something. For a moment it seemed there was nothing to be found, and then all of a sudden his fingertips brushed against something smooth and curved… Carefully he grabbed the item and lifted it down, shocked and vaguely disgusted by what he held in his hand. It was a small pot, another sample jar, only this one had been filled and the sticky white liquid within was clinging to the sides of the plastic in a way that made him feel slightly nauseous. 

How the hell? It must have been the pack… They were proving to be far more resourceful than he could have hoped for. How they had gotten hold of a fresh semen sample that was not from a shape shifter he had no idea… But he was so thankful that he couldn’t contain the sigh of relief that escaped him. 

Feeling hopeful that they would have provided both pots he again fished around in the vent and was rewarded by another three specimens. Urine that was so fresh it was still warm in his hand within the pot; and two samples identical to the ones he had taken in the lab itself.

Placing both empty pots in his pocket he carefully crushed them with one hand until his pocket was full of shattered plastic fragments, which would not be visible to the detective or the doctor. Then he placed the vent covering back where he had found it and screwed the bolts back into place as best he could with his fingers. Brushing away the dust that had collected beneath the opening carefully. Then he pulled off a large strip of toilet paper and dropped it into the toilet, flushing the chain and then fastidiously washing his hands. He needed to make everything seem normal, they’d soon clock that something was amiss if there was no water in the sink. Finally he stuffed the two samples that he would have to switch with the ones the doctor had taken into his pocket, and picked up the remaining two in one large hand.