Was the blood still rushing in his ears? Could he hear nothing but his own heartbeat and the breaths, which refused to come slow and calm again even an hour after he’d beaten Joshua Ainsworth to death?
On screen Sutherland let himself into his house and closed that door almost silently. There were no lights on in the windows, only the porch light burning and he turned it off as soon as he was inside. It was too late though, he’d been caught perfectly framed under it: slack-faced and wide-eyed. Guilty.
Zigic tapped the screen and stopped the video.
Sutherland was balled up tight in his chair, fists punched into his underarms. He was staring at the tablet like he was trying to make it combust with the force of his mind.
‘Where were your clothes, Patrick?’
Sutherland’s voice came out at a croak. ‘No comment.’
‘What happened to your shoes?’
‘No comment.’
They had him. He was falling apart in front of their eyes, but one more ‘no comment’ and his solicitor was going to call for a break and they would risk losing the momentum they’d worked so hard to build. Patrick Sutherland was stripped of his charm and looks, all poise gone, all intelligence spent. They had him reduced to his true self now, the liar, the predator, the man who’d groomed a woman right out of Long Fleet and into his house and then, very nearly, into a prison sentence that should have been his.
One more question to finish him.
Zigic took a breath.
‘Why did you leave the porch light on when you left?’ he asked, but didn’t allow Sutherland space to answer. ‘You didn’t expect to be sneaking back into your house in your underwear, did you? You didn’t actually go to Josh’s house intending to kill him. You just wanted to talk, right?’
There were tears in Sutherland’s eyes now. Everything falling apart around him, his lies catching up with him, his counter-accusation against Nadia rendered ridiculous.
‘Did Josh taunt you?’ Zigic asked.
‘He –’
‘Don’t say anything, Patrick,’ Lawton snapped.
‘Josh beat you and he wanted to rub it in,’ Zigic said. ‘He let you into his house so he could tell you exactly what he’d done. He wanted you to know he’d beaten you. He was going to ruin your life just like you ruined his. How did that feel, Patrick?’
‘I just went round there to talk to him,’ Sutherland said, the words so low Zigic almost thought he’d imagined them until he spoke again. ‘He started it. He wasn’t in control of himself. He was drunk and raving. He went for me.’
‘You look fine.’
‘He grabbed me,’ Sutherland said, finding his voice again, latching onto the only lifeline he could see, the one he’d tried to throw to Nadia: self-defence. ‘I didn’t have any choice but to fight back.’
Zigic nodded, showed him an understanding face.
‘I didn’t mean to kill him.’
Ten blows, Zigic thought. Ten times he hit Joshua Ainsworth across the temple with the table leg but that was a distinction for the courtroom. For now all he needed was the admission and he had it.
He leaned back in his chair, watching as Sutherland broke down, burying his face in his hands.
‘Okay,’ Zigic said, hearing the satisfaction in his voice. ‘Interview terminated 5:07 p.m.’
A round of applause greeted them as they returned to the office, whipped up by Adams who strode between the desks in full DCI mode, grinning broadly.
‘Very nice work, Ziggy,’ he said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘He was a sneaky piece of shit but you weren’t having any of it, were you? Nailed him to the fucking table.’
‘It was a team effort,’ Zigic said, looking around for his team and finding them bundled in with Adams’s lot on the opposite side of the office, working his escalating case. ‘Great stuff, everyone. Thank you.’
The faces all turned back to their tasks, that brief, uncomfortable interlude over. Much to Zigic’s relief.
‘What are you doing about Nadia Baidoo then?’ Adams asked.
‘We don’t have anything to charge her with,’ Ferreira said.
‘She might not have known all the details but she knew Sutherland had done something seriously wrong,’ Zigic reminded her. ‘She should have come forward the second she knew Ainsworth had been murdered.’
‘Not worth making anything out of though, is it?’ Adams said, a command decision buried in the seemingly friendly suggestion. ‘Given what she’s been through. I’d imagine she didn’t come forward because she was in an abusive, controlling relationship and she was scared of the consequences of reporting him.’
‘I’ll write it up and see how it looks,’ Zigic told him, still not entirely sure what he thought about Nadia’s involvement.
She’d made a false accusation of serious assault. Claimed ignorance of a murder via the handy excuse of sleeping pills they now weren’t sure she was taking.
If it got to court he was confident she’d be found guilty of assisting an offender, but he wasn’t ready to pass judgement on the young woman yet.
‘Bail her,’ Adams said, directing the order to Ferreira. ‘But make sure the solicitor knows her obligations.’
She headed down to the custody suite to deal with the paperwork.
‘Quick drink to celebrate?’ Adams asked, gesturing towards his office.
‘Not tonight,’ Zigic said. ‘I’ve got family stuff.’
He looked wounded by the refusal but Zigic had bigger concerns than professional courtesy.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
They waited until the kids were in bed, then they went into the living room with their second glasses of the wine from dinner,the curtains drawn against the last of the late evening sun and the lamps lit in the corners, the television on to give some cover to the conversation they were going to have now.
‘Okay,’ Anna said, taking a seat in the centre of the sofa, perched on the very edge of the cushion.
