‘I’ve got all I’m going to get. I’m coming out,’ I said into the phone.
Dylan said nothing.
I went around the workshop making sure I hadn’t left anything out of place. I didn’t think Derek’s crew was the particularly observant type but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I switched all the lights off and climbed onto the workbench to make my escape.
Using the rafters for support, I got myself onto the window ledge. I fed my legs through the window first so I would land on my feet instead of my head and squeezed my body back through the window. It was harder coming out than going in. My clothes kept snagging on the frame, but I made it through and lowered myself down.
I had a certain expectation as to where the drums were. Instead, my feet connected with air. I kept lowering myself and my feet still hung in the air. I looked down. The drums were gone.
Before I could do anything else, a fist drove itself into my left kidney. I yelled out, lost my grip on the ledge and came crashing to the ground. I landed hard on my feet. Pain crackled up through my legs and into my groin. I lost my balance and came down on my back.
A heavy shoe pinned me to the ground by my neck and a torch beam blinded me.
I wasn’t going down like this. I grabbed the foot, lifted it up and twisted. My assailant wasn’t expecting that and toppled back.
I flipped over onto my front then onto my feet, ignoring the tingling in my legs. I rushed my assailant then stopped when he spoke.
‘Don’t add resisting arrest and assault to breaking and entering,’ Detective Brennan said.
Lap Nineteen
I helped Brennan up. He brought out a pair of handcuffs and made a circling gesture with his torch. I turned around and he snapped the handcuffs around my wrists. The seriousness of my situation sunk in when the clamp of steel bit into my skin. I’d screwed up. I was under arrest. God, I was stupid. My head dropped involuntarily.
Brennan leaned in close. ‘This a new experience for you?’
I said nothing.
‘Don’t worry, you won’t have to go through it alone.’
He didn’t have to elaborate. He had Dylan. It now made sense why Dylan hadn’t responded.
‘C’mon, let’s go,’ Brennan said with pleasure and shoved me in the back.
He walked me to the main gates. I thought it was going to be interesting trying to get back over the fence while cuffed, but he simply opened the gate.
He grinned at me and jangled a set of keys in front of me. ‘It helps when you have the keys to the castle.’
He scooped up the floor mat I’d used to get over the fence. ‘Nice touch. Done much of this work?’
‘Getting caught is a sign of my inexperience.’
He laughed.
He pushed me through, closed and locked the gate, then dug the torch in the base of my spine and walked me across the street. I looked over at the Subaru. It was still there, but Dylan wasn’t. Brennan walked me over to an unmarked Ford Mondeo. I’d seen the anonymous looking car earlier, but hadn’t considered it important. Dylan was in the front passenger seat with one of his hands cuffed to the steering wheel. We frowned at each other.
Brennan put me in the back while he re-cuffed Dylan. I looked around for any other cops who were part of this stake-out. I didn’t spot any. Brennan should have had backup and shouldn’t have had keys to the yard. Suddenly, I had more to worry about than a simple arrest.
He drove us to a nearby police station and walked us through the doors like we were his girlfriends, one on each arm. Besides us, the waiting room was deserted. From behind his protective glass barrier, the duty officer looked at Dylan and me, crossed his arms and twisted his face into a look of disapproval. ‘Gifts? You shouldn’t have.’
Brennan walked us to the counter and showed his warrant card to the officer. ‘Could a travelling brother officer get the use of the cells?’
‘Of course.’
The officer buzzed us in and Dylan and I walked through. We followed him to a room where another officer relieved us of our possessions, belts and shoelaces. Brennan’s face lit up when my digital camera came out. The cops played up my having a screwdriver, a battery powered drill and hacksaw on me. Seeing the products of my stupidity paraded before me only highlighted the naivety of my plan.
‘We have some lovely accommodations for you,’ the custody officer joked.
Brennan kept a grip on me. ‘I think I’d like to talk to this one first. Can I get use of an interview room?’
‘Interview One is free.’
Brennan grabbed the plastic bag containing my possessions and dragged me off to the interview room. He pointed to a seat and dumped the bag on the table. We sat opposite each other in the cramped room.
A stack of sealed cassette tapes sat next to a clunky looking tape recorder at the end of the table. Brennan made no move to record the interview. Instead, he opened the plastic bag and spilled the contents on the table. He sifted through the items like a pan-handler searching for gold. He picked up and examined the hacksaw blade with the masking tape wrapped around one end for a makeshift handle. ‘I have to admire your persistence, Aidy. You’re not one to give up.’ He tossed the blade down. ‘But it doesn’t mean I have to like it. You want to tell me what’s going on?’
I didn’t. He had me fair and square, but that didn’t mean I was about to say anything. I was more interested in how he’d known to stake out the workshop tonight. I put this down to a self-inflicted wound. When Steve had called the other night to tell me he’d been hurt, I hadn’t been very subtle in my escape. Someone could have seen me and reported it back to Brennan. It was a pretty safe bet that I’d want a better look. I hated being the predictable one in this relationship.
‘Not talking, eh? That’s OK. I’ll talk. I think it’s better that you listen to what I have to say.’
Brennan separated the drill, the hacksaw blade and the screwdriver from the rest of my possessions. ‘These I find interesting. Not exactly the tools of an expert burglar, but they’re a nice starter kit. The way you got into that building was relatively neat and efficient for a novice. You deserve an A for effort. Where you deserve a resounding F is in what you took.’ He poked about amongst my wallet, keys and loose change with the screwdriver. ‘You didn’t take anything. If you’re going to go to all the bother of breaking and entering, you really should add theft to the equation. You deserve a reward for all your endeavours.’
Theatrically, Brennan’s interest fell to the digital camera. He cast the screwdriver aside and picked it up. He switched it on and scrolled through the images. ‘Hmm, very interesting. Judging by the pictures of you, this seems to be your camera. Why on earth would a thief want a camera at a job?’
Since I didn’t have a choice, I endured Brennan’s theatrics. He knew the answer already. He just wanted to flex his muscles and that was fine. He’d get around to the point eventually.
‘There are some interesting images of vehicles captured here. Trying to get a jump on your racing competition? Except these don’t look like racing cars.’ He went suddenly wide-eyed. ‘Oops. I seem to have accidentally deleted all the pictures you’ve taken tonight. Sorry, I thought I was scrolling through them. I really wish there was some way of making up for my mistake, but I think you have bigger problems than some lost photographs.’ He put the ruined product of my hard work on the table between us.
It was a petty and obvious move on Brennan’s part, but it struck a raw nerve in me. I was sick and tired of the mess around me. Cover-ups. Intimidation. Threats. Lies. Protection. Alex was murdered and that wasn’t of prime importance to anyone, not even the police. It wasn’t right. I lost my grip on my temper. ‘You’re a piece of work, Brennan.’