The Devil's Due: A Cooper and McCall Scottish Crime Thriller by Ramsay Sinclair (good inspirational books .TXT) 📗

felt angry, anyone would. But I also felt sadness too,” Jack struggled to keep hold of his newfound composure. Sweat dribbled unattractively from his forehead and both fists clenched at Finlay’s unforgiving words. I knew precisely what Finlay’s tactics were going to be. Poke the bear, make it angry.

“Did it make you want to murder Gavin Ellis?” Finlay used a low tone, one that frightened me, let alone the father suspected of murder. Finlay had already made his mind up. He wanted Jack to be the killer so desperately that he wouldn’t tread lightly.

“My client doesn’t wish to answer your question—”

“STOP IT!” Jack shouted out in rage and thumped the table in an attempt to gain some form of control. “I’m not a murderer. I didn’t kill Gavin Ellis.”

“When did you last see Gavin Ellis, Jack?” I intervened calmly, to diffuse the tension. I pushed a glass of water towards Jack, which he accepted gratefully.

“At Emily’s trial. When he was sentenced.” He ignored Finlay’s pants of irritation and talked directly to me. I took advantage of that to build up an element of trust between the two of us.

“That must have been a hard day for you, as a father,” I observed. “I bet it still is.”

Jack nodded in agreement and shot a tight-lipped smile of appreciation my way. “They said it would get easier with time. That the pain would slowly dissipate until all I’m left with is grateful memories of her. They lied. It gets harder.” Jack sipped his fresh water. “Have you ever lost anyone, DS McCall?” Jack leant closer to me, praying I knew how it felt.

“I’ll be the one asking questions here, thank you,” Finlay attempted to interrupt, not understanding that this was what I wanted. Some back-and-forth dialogue. Interaction. Enough to make Jack feel like a human being, instead of some rotten criminal. I had to show him we cared.

“My mum, when I turned eighteen. It wasn’t overly long ago, though it feels like a lifetime,” I reminisced, lovely memories of us as a family flashed through my brain momentarily. Finlay looked over at me in shock. I’d never told him that before… or anyone else. “You’re right, Jack. It doesn’t get any easier. It never will. I’m not like therapists or counsellors, I won't lie to you. Right now, Gavin Ellis’s mother is sitting at home, not understanding what’s happened to her son. All she wants are answers, like you did with Emily...” I trailed off, noting how Jack’s eyes softened with grief and understanding.

“Poor woman, but I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” Jack said softly. “I didn’t do it.”

Stubborn man. His gaze flicked between the two of us, sizing us up.

“Why did you lie to us? You haven’t worked at the medical centre for months. You ran away from our surveillance team in the hopes we wouldn’t find you. You’ve branded yourself as guilty. Your scalpel was found with blood on at your home, roughly the same size as the mark of Gavin’s arm.” Finlay pointed to the photographs.

“All circumstantial evidence, I see,” the solicitor pointed out. “Until you have some truly incriminating factors, my client does not have to answer any further questions put towards him.”

“He lied to us. Guilty men lie,” Finlay refused to accept the Lawyers intervention and acted exactly how I’d expected him to. “You ran to Catherine Jones’s house, a patient which you broke contractual agreements for at your workplace. You committed a criminal offence then. Who’s to say you haven’t done it again? You were just lucky to get away with it back then.”

Even his solicitor could not argue with that valid point. I took my chance whilst it was available, knowing I could get somewhere with Jack Harper. Possibly wrangle a full confession from him.

“It’s not looking good for you, Jack,” I observed calmly. “Is there a reason you ran to Catherine’s? When we mentioned your scalpel at the house, you told Catherine to ‘show us’. What did you mean by that?”

“I didn’t want to drag Catherine into my mess, but it was the only way you’d listen.” he shook violently, refusing to talk about her any more.

“We know it’s the same person who committed both crimes, Jack, and all the fingers are pointing at you so far.” Finlay sighed impatiently. Neither of our tactics was achieving anything substantial.

“So far? Do you mean to tell me the only reason my client has been forcefully brought in today is that you have no further leads? Yet another case of shoddy police work being taken out on a man who is clearly distressed.” Jack’s solicitor picked up on technicalities, grasping at thin air. She may be able to help him wriggle out of our ‘circumstantial evidence,’ but even she couldn’t deny his forged statement and alibi. That was our one valid point, and we were determined to stick to it.

“You’re condemning me to a crime I didn’t commit,” Jack admitted quietly, uncertain of whether that’s all he was allowed to say.

“How are we supposed to know that if you don’t tell us anything?” I said.

“I can’t do that to Catherine. Not unless she’s ready to tell you,” Jack Harper hid his head in his hands.

“You know, I’m starting to get fed up with you two,” Finlay tutted. “She tells us to talk to you, and you tell us to talk to her. We’re looping in circles here, and I, for one, am starting to feel very dizzy.”

Jack Harper seemed willing to speak up, but his subconscious was stopping him for some reason. He shuffled in closer and lowered his voice, starting to trust me. I noticed his solicitor sat still with pursed lips, clearly unhappy that Jack Harper trusted us, trusted me. But no matter how hard she had tried to advise him, Jack Harper was and would always be his own man. Strong-willed, hardworking… a grafter. He knew a reasonable deal when it had been offered to him.

We all waited in suspense for what Jack Harper