Chapter 52
Chapter Fifty-Two
ABIGAIL
Isat in the waiting room of the police station for hours.
I kept asking the desk sergeant if he could tell me what was going on, give me an update on the case, or fetch my dad to come and speak to me, but all I got was, “When he’s free to talk to you, he will.
I can’t tell you anymore at this stage, Miss. ”
I wasn’t going to leave without an answer.
I would stay here all night, and then the next, and the next, until someone gave me something.
I’d just been through hell, had Isaiah ripped away from me, and been bundled into the back of a police car, and driven back to my parents’ house against my will.
I tried to get them to bring me straight to the station, but they wouldn’t listen.
My dad had given orders, and they were following them to the letter.
So, I got out of the police car. Told them I didn’t need an escort to the front door; I was capable of walking myself. Then I waited for them to drive away and came straight to the station, where I knew they’d be holding him.
“Can you tell me if they’ve charged him with anything?” I asked the desk sergeant, hoping that in making a nuisance of myself, I might finally get some answers.
He tapped away on his screen, and then in a bored tone told me, “No. Nothing’s been put on the system.”
“Well, maybe go and ask. Then we might get somewhere,” I snapped, and then I huffed when he showed no indication of moving and just shrugged at me.
“For God’s sake, this is a joke.” I stormed across the room and sat back on the waiting room chair.
There was a television on the wall. The local news was on, but the sound was muted. When the screen cut to a police press conference, and I saw my father walk into the room and sit down at the head of the table, I sat up and shouted, “Turn it up!”
The guy on the desk frowned at me, and I snapped, “Turn up the sound on the TV! Quick!” I waved my hand at the television frantically, and he picked up a remote from the desk and pointed it at the TV, turning up the volume.
My heart was pounding, my whole body shaking as I sat forward to listen. I had a bad feeling about this.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending this press conference at such short notice. We would like to make a short statement in regard to the following case.
“Earlier today, we were called to a property on the outskirts of Brinton Manor. During routine enquiries, we made a discovery.
“The remains of Frederick Wilson, Harold Fraser, Mario Cane, Paul Masters, Joel Spencer, and Gabriel Tolley were found within the property. We also have reason to believe that articles belonging to Peter Hipkiss, and Nial Fagin, were also at the property. Forensic tests are being conducted, but I can’t go into any more detail about that part of the investigation at this current time.
As soon as we know anything, we will inform the press, and other relevant authorities.
“At present, the circumstances of each murder, as well as the motive, are still uncertain, and I ask you to bear with us while we conclude our enquiries.
“What we can tell you is a local man was arrested shortly afterwards.”
There was a buzz through the crowd of people attending the conference. Voices calling out and general excitement. I felt nothing but sickness and dread.
“Detective Walters, can you tell us how they died?”
“Like I said, we still don’t know the exact cause of death, and forensic tests are still being carried out. When we’ve concluded our investigation, we will make that known.”
“Detective Walters, are you looking for anyone else in connection to the murders?”
“No. We made an arrest earlier, as stated, but unfortunately, the suspect later died in custody.”
The bottom fell out of my whole world. I slapped my hand over my mouth to stifle my cries as tears streamed down my face.
“How did he die?”
“Did he commit suicide?”
“Who was arrested?”
The questions came thick and fast as the press conference dissolved into pure chaos. I could barely breathe, swallowing through the thickness in my throat as I watched my father hold his hand up to quieten the room so he could speak.
“Losing a suspect in custody is never easy, especially in a case like this. I understand there will be questions over the circumstances of his death, but until a full enquiry has been conducted, I cannot comment any further on that aspect of the case.”
“Can you at least tell us who it was?”
There was silence in the room, and silence in my heart as I held my breath and waited for them to say his name.
My father hung his head for a moment, then looked up at the camera.
“The suspect who was arrested, and subsequently died, was Doctor Charles Quinn, a consultant at...”
I didn’t hear anymore, and the hollering coming from the TV was white noise that meant nothing, because standing in the doorway, looking right at me, was Isaiah.