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

“The forensics came through a while ago. We were wrong. Your blade didn’t have Gavin’s blood on. I think it’s best to admit that to you, Jack,” I said truthfully. “We’re speaking honestly with you. Can you try the same for us?” Jack’s face softened in relief, precisely what I had intended.

Finlay, however, was a landmine waiting to implode. I already knew he would be furious without having to exchange a glance. I’d deliberately ignored his tactics and what he’d planned to ride the whole interview on. I’d recognised Jack Harper wasn’t a man who shared information readily, not after being holed up with his own grief for such a long time. Finlay’s heart may be too cold to appreciate that, but mine wasn’t.

“So, I can go?” Jack questioned me with relief. He had his hopes up, I knew that much, but the interview wasn’t quite finished. I had my sucker punch tucked neatly away up my sleeve, unknown to everyone else in the room. Finlay already began to pack away our statements and photographs of the scene, impatient as always.

“No,” I broke my news, visibly feeling the temperature grow colder. From the corner of my eye, I could see Finlay’s heavy brow sinking lower. He hated being left in the dark. “I said the blade didn’t match Gavin’s blood sample. You used it on someone else, didn’t you, Jack?”

Jack Harper’s face drained of any colour, and his body went limp as his blood turned colder.

“I know why you asked Catherine to show us back at the house. You used it on her, didn’t you?” I already knew the answer. “I saw the cut on the back of her hand. Same size. Same depth. Is it Catherine’s blood on the blade?”

Finlay faced me, incredulously. Even Jack’s solicitor stayed silent, wanting to hear where this was going. Tears wet Jack’s eyes helplessly, and he flopped over, giving up.

“You started as her doctor, it said as much on her records,” I stated coolly. “You stole medication for her. For Catherine. Did she force you to?” I took a stab in the dark, only imagining what could have happened between a doctor and his patient to lead us to this stage.

“And you couldn’t refuse. A beautiful young woman, showing the slightest bit of attention to you, a man way past his prime and stricken with grief. Catherine Jones, a breath of fresh air. Exactly what you needed.” I observed Jack’s laboured breaths. “When we suspected you of murdering Gavin Ellis, you ran straight to Catherine. You felt safe in the arms of a young girl.”

Finlay wasn’t expecting that conclusion when we seized Jack on account of suspected murder.

“This has nothing to do with the Gavin Ellis case, DS McCall,” the solicitor spoke primarily for our tape, but I could tell that she was also curious about her client’s lies.

“If you already knew, why did you put me through all of this and make us come here?” Jack Harper whispered feebly, confirming some of my suspicions. “Was it to embarrass us? Ridicule us?”

“I didn’t know, not until I saw the mark on Catherine’s hand,” I said firmly. “Explain to us, Jack. You and Catherine, because I don’t fully understand.”

Jack broke down and allowed himself to sob freely, just like he did the first day we questioned him at home. “It’s not like that. I can see it in your eyes already. You’re judging me.” The man had a bad case of paranoia, that was for certain.

“We are not judging you, Jack,” I said.

“I am,” Finlay added with disgust. Not helpful.

“It’s Emily’s birthday week, last week. Or was,” he corrected himself sadly and heaved a large sigh. “Catherine and Emily were friends from school. During the year Emily died, I visited her grave most Saturdays. Tidied it up, put fresh flowers on, that kind of thing. Made it a place to be proud of.”

My heart went out for Jack Harper.

Jack sighed softly. “I first met Catherine there. I’d never met any of Emily’s friends before. She was always embarrassed by me, just her daft old dad, but Catherine used to visit after school. She’d always leave one single, fresh flower on her grave.” Jack stroked the table as though it was Emily’s grave.

“And then what?” I pushed him to continue.

“We saw each other most days down there. Purely coincidental.” Jack remembered the days vividly. A ghost of a smile graced his lips.

“How romantic,” Finlay quipped sarcastically, ruining Jack Harper’s fond memory.

“Carry on.” I smiled tenderly, gentle in approach. I touched Jack Harper’s hand, giving him enough courage to speak up in front of us all.

“Catherine told me stories of Emily. How cheeky she would be, back chatting all the teachers and never completing homework on time. They skipped school together and hung around the shops, calling out to all the boys they fancied. I would’ve given anything to see Emily get a boyfriend. To have him take her to prom in a pretty dress. She would have looked a picture.” Jack strayed from the incident at hand. His aura brightened, and I could tell that talking about Emily made him happier.

Finlay swallowed, trying to maintain a bit of calm.

“We shared our grief. It made a hard time so much easier with Catherine by my side. Nobody else would understand, so we kept our meetings secret. She was just seventeen--” Jack said openly, glasses steaming up from his embarrassment.

“Did you have sex with Catherine Jones when she was underage?” Finlay intruded, all guns blazing. To be fair to him, the question was playing on our minds.

“Never.” Jack defiantly shook his head, disgusted by the notion. “It’s not that type of relationship. It never was and never will be.” Jack sighed in annoyance at Finlay’s presumptions, confirming his worst fears of being branded a sex offender. His cheekbones flushed a dark shade of crimson, fear bottling his chest and binding together his words.

“What about now? Do you exploit Catherine’s emotions in return