Chapter 20
WELL, SHIT
Taylor
Taylor shouldn’t have stayed, and he cursed himself for being so soft, because by the time they’d finished processing prisoners, visiting hours at the hospital had ended.
He’d tried to guess the code to get through the staff doors at least twenty times, but now the keypad was flashing red and he should probably just leave it alone. In the end, all he could do was stare through the glass door like a lost puppy.
“Come back tomorrow,” said the harassed looking matron as she ushered him away.
“What about grapes?” Taylor said, shaking a plastic bag at her. “I really think he needs some more. If I could just go in and—”
The matron sighed and took the bag from him.
“I’ll take the grapes to him and that’s only because you’re a police officer.
He’ll probably be out tomorrow once we’re happy there isn’t something more complex going on with his arm.
” She began walking towards the exit, but Taylor shuffled around her like an annoying child.
“But how will I know? He broke his phone and—what about if I bring a new one? Will you let me in then?”
The matron shook her head. “No, and anyway, it’s nine o’clock in the evening, where are you going to get a new phone at this hour?”
Taylor scoffed. “I know people. Or, what if I take him home and just bring him back tomorrow?”
They reached the glass double doors that led to the public car park, and the matron held one open for him. She let out a strained laugh, one that sounded like her patience was wearing thin. Taylor almost leant into that, like if he pushed her just enough she might—
“And risk A&E waiting times?” she continued. “You’re down as his next of kin, so I’ll give you a call as soon as he’s ready to be discharged, alright?”
Taylor opened his mouth, but the matron had already turned and started marching back towards the ward.
Sighing, he tapped his chin. He was Johnny’s next of kin.
Kin… and ‘next of’ at that. He pressed his lips together, trying to stop a smile because one really should not smile in a hospital where people were probably dying.
Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, he stared up at the sky. It was purply orange shot through with wispy clouds, not unlike Sacramento Sunrise, and maybe if he told the matron Johnny needed a touch-up she would—
He let out a frustrated groan.
He wasn’t getting in, he knew that deep down, so instead of pacing himself into a pit he called Maman and gave her the abridged version of the day’s events. He artfully avoided an invite to stay at the pack house, because the second she saw him she’d know it was more serious than he’d made out.
It wasn’t until he turned the key in his own front door and stepped into the dark, empty living room that he held his head in his hands and wept like a big fucking baby.
“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth.
A breeze rolled in through the open kitchen window, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It felt like a thousand tiny needles pricking his skin. He blinked over and over, trying to clear the tears, but they just kept coming.
Sloping into the kitchen, he threw the car keys onto the table and wrenched open the fridge. Pulling out a can of Coke, he cracked it open, downing the entire thing in one go. Then another. He was about to pull out a third when there was a knock at the door.
“Fuck off,” he whispered.
There was a second knock, then a third, so, wiping his eyes with the back of a hand, he got up.
There was a moment where he fumbled with the key, his fingers like five numb meat sticks, before wrenching open the door.
He was met with Pember’s flushed face, bent over whilst he rubbed the back of his calf.
“Sorry,” he said, pushing a hand through his dark hair. “I… er… might have just jumped the wall and I’m now regretting it. I thought I was as athletic as Blake, but turns out I’m not.”
Bailey the black Labrador and George the corgi appeared at Pember’s feet moments later. Taylor huffed out a breath, his gaze trailing to the three-foot wall between their houses.
Then his shoulders came up and he started laughing.
And laughing.
Not a joyous sort of laugh, but one that sat somewhere between delirium and desperation. He coughed wetly and suddenly the tears were back.
Pember’s mouth dropped open as he stepped towards him. “What’s wrong?” he said, reaching up to grip Taylor’s wrist.
Taylor turned away. “Nothing,” he said, mouth twisting as he bit his bottom lip. “Nothing, I just… Fucking hell.”
“Right,” Pember said, turning him around and pushing him back inside the house. He flicked the light on, but even that felt like too much so Taylor turned it off again. The dogs followed, their claws tapping across the hardwood floor.
Taylor slumped into the kitchen chair, angling his body away from Pember so he couldn’t see just how much he was crying.
“W-what’s up, Pem?” he asked, voice cracking.
Pember let out a breath. “What’s up? Isla told me what happened. She said you and Johnny got hurt.” Pember reached towards him, touching the graze across Taylor’s jaw. “Where’s Johnny? I thought you’d both be home.”
Taylor cleared his throat. “Still at the hospital. They’re checking his arm. It got… it got hurt pretty bad.”
Pember sighed. “Shit. And you?”
“They wouldn’t let me stay.”
“I mean how are you doing? But in hindsight that was a stupid question.” Pember let out a strained laugh before getting up and wandering towards the sink.
He tore some kitchen towel off the roll and handed it to Taylor.
“Wow, this is a serious bit of kit,” he said, turning towards their swanky coffee machine.
Taylor blew his nose, balling the paper up and gripping it tightly in his fist. “Yeah, JP’s family owns a restaurant. We get most of their cast-offs. Neither of us drink coffee though.”
Pember gasped, pressing one of the buttons and making it play a happy little jingle. The poor thing was probably just thrilled to be touched for the first time in eight months.
“Well that is a crying shame,” Pember replied, pressing a few more buttons.
“You should still de-scale it though, the pipes get all nasty and before you know it you’ll have a whole colony of micro-organisms living in there.
My friend at uni did a study on different pathogens that can show up in coffee grounds and—” He coughed. “Sorry. Sorry. Not why we’re here.”
Taylor laughed a little. “Sometimes I forget that we called you the funny little science guy when we were still at West Newton.”
Pember smiled, slumping into the chair next to him. “I guess there’re worse nicknames.”
Taylor blew his nose again. “There sure are. We came up with some seriously creative names for Blake, but… you probably don’t want to hear them.”
Pember sucked his teeth. “Do tell, so I can take the piss out of him later.”
Detective Dickhead had been their go-to most days. But they’d also enjoyed Commander Cockchafe and Sergeant Suckmyballs. All dick jokes, all peak humour in Taylor’s opinion.
Taylor ran a hand through his hair, cringing at the way it snagged in his fingers. He really, really needed a shower.
“Better not.”
“Spoilsport,” Pember replied, flicking his arm.
“You can have the coffee machine,” Taylor said, jabbing a thumb towards it. “It’s only going to waste here.”
Pember’s eyes went wide. “I couldn’t. That things gotta be worth a grand, easy.”
Taylor shrugged, his shoulders feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on them. “I don’t…” he began, eyes suddenly heavy. “I really don’t have the energy to care, Pem. I just want JP home.”
Pember’s eyebrows pulled together as he slid a hand across the table. He rested his dainty fingers on top of Taylor’s. “I know. Why don’t you try sleeping in some of his clothes? Or use his deodorant, or pile up some pillows around your bed and just surround yourself in his scent?”
Taylor let out a tired laugh. “No offence, dude, but that’s the most omega thing you’ve ever said.”
Pember waggled a finger at him. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Nest building might be an omega art, but I’m telling you we’re onto something.”
Taylor slowly rose to his feet. “If you say so.”
Pember sighed, pushing back the chair. “Well, anyway,” he said, hopping up, “I only wanted to check on you and—” He cut himself off, eyes darting around as though considering his next few words.
Taylor raised his eyebrows. “And?”
“I wanted to let you know that our lab is fast-tracking Pearce’s swabs. Falkington was going to put it at the bottom of the list because Ru’s in prison and Pearce has no previous convictions, but I managed to convince Wallace that we should look at them.”
Taylor swallowed, wetting his lips. “Yeah?”
Pember’s gaze flicked to the floor before looking Taylor dead in the eyes.
“We’ve only completed the initial screening, but…
It’s him. He’s one of Ru’s rapists. Sylvester and Benny were separated at birth but it seems like they found their way back to each other when they became adults. Unlike Sylvester, Benny is an alpha.”
Taylor nodded slowly, finding it difficult to muster even a little enthusiasm. “I see, well… that’s good, I guess.”
“It is,” Pember said, rushing towards him. “It really is, Tay. Look, I know you don’t like Ru but at least Johnny getting hurt wasn’t for nothing. A dangerous man has been taken off the streets for a very long time, so long as Ru can…”
His words trailed off and he looked at the floor again.
“What?” Taylor said, but he suspected he already knew what was coming. “Just spit it out, Pem.”
“Ru’s being interviewed again. By Isla. She was going to tell you but she said you had enough to worry about.”
Taylor sighed as he slowly started walking towards the door. “It makes sense, I guess. It was her case before the murders and she wants it back.”
Pember nodded rapidly. “You aren’t mad?”