The Hard Way Duncan Brockwell (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📖

name on her text list, she replaced her mobile. “Arsehole!” Charlotte decided to read it after her workout, or perhaps after lunch, to make him wait, like he’d made her wait all weekend. Why was he such a pig?

Fifteen minutes on the exercise bike later, she stepped off and dried her face. Taking deep breaths, she sauntered over to the windowsill, picking up her phone. Charlotte wanted to leave it, to let him wait, but curiosity defied her. ‘Key in drain in workshop. Being arrested. Come get key. Important!’ She read it three times.

Arrested? Her brother wouldn’t hurt a fly. What could the police possibly arrest him for? She ran into her bedroom, whipped off her training clothes and changed into jeans and T-shirt. It was warm outside, so she ran downstairs, put on her flip-flops, and headed out the front door.

Richard was a good man. He might be an arsehole to her, but overall his heart was in the right place. If the police had evidence of wrongdoing, it was falsified evidence. On the road, Charlotte headed for the workshop. She thought having the radio on might help calm her nerves; it didn’t. She switched it off.

Forty-five minutes later, she pulled up in front of the courtyard where police cars parked in every direction prevented her from getting in. On the way there, the two white transits sat doing nothing. “Shit!” There were so many police cars, their lights flashing.

Parking on the opposite side of the road, further up, Charlotte got out of her car and started walking towards the entrance to the courtyard. Before she reached it, two uniformed officers erected a cordon. “Oh shit!” She would have to jump the tape or go under it somehow. She had to see Richard.

“I’m here to see my brother, Richard Fisher,” she told one uniform, who blocked her way. “Let me pass, please. I need to speak to my brother.”

“Not this morning, I’m afraid, ma’am. Your brother’s under arrest. He’s being taken to a police station any minute now.”

She screamed at him, asking him what Richard was under arrest for. “Let me through; you don’t know what you’re doing. He’s a good man.” The officer stood in her way, moving with her each time she stepped left or right. “Get out of my way! I have to see him.”

Eventually she gave up, stepping back, until the uniform walked over to his colleague, talking to her. Spying Richard’s hung head in the back of a panda car, she made a run for it, jumping over the cordon, the uniform calling after her.

“Don’t let her through!” the uniform shouted to his colleagues.

Charlotte dodged every police officer, managing to stop outside Richard’s window. When he saw her, he started shouting something. After a couple of seconds, it sounded like ‘get key from drain’.

“I know, I got your text. I’ll get it,” she shouted through the glass.

It was only a few seconds until she felt hands on her shoulders dragging her back towards the cordon. Charlotte didn’t listen to the officer telling her off; she didn’t care. Richard was all she cared about. By the way he sat in the rear, his wrists were cuffed. “I’ll get you a good solicitor, Richard. Don’t worry, we’ll have you out in no time.”

“I don’t fancy your chances, ma’am. Not with what he’s being charged with.”

Behind the cordon once more, she regarded the officer. “Why do you say that? What’s he being charged with?” She didn’t like his disgusted expression. “What?”

“Distributing indecent pictures of minors, for one,” the uniform replied.

“And that’s just for starters, eh, Sarge?” the female uniform added.

“Yeah, one sick puppy, your brother. I’d love to put him down.”

No. It couldn’t be, not her brother, not her Richard.

“I don’t think you’ll need to, Sarge. They don’t like nonces in prison. The inmates will do it for us.” The female officer gave her daggers, like she was Richard. “He deserves what he’s going to get.”

Charlotte thought about the text. ‘Key in drain in workshop’. Somehow, she had to get into the workshop, find the drain, grab the key, and get out without the police seeing. Vowing to wait for as long as it took to get that key, she turned and walked away from those opinionated, hateful police officers.

Repeating the lapel numbers of the officers to herself, she crossed the road to her car and sat inside, the doors closed. In her mobile’s notes app, she typed the numbers of the lapels, telling herself she would report them to the IOPC, or whoever. “Judgemental bastards!”

In the rear-view mirror, Charlotte saw a white Peugeot pull up outside the cordon. Turning in her seat, she saw Hayes driving with her partner in the passenger seat. Charlotte still had Hayes’ card somewhere.

47

Miller got out of the still running car, walked up to the uniforms in front of the cordon and showed them her ID wallet. “We’re here to speak to Richard Fisher.” As she put the wallet away, the uniforms glanced at one another. “What? Don’t give me weird looks. What is it?”

Beside her, Hayes waited for them to speak. “We’re not going to, are we?”

“Not unless you outrank the NCA officers dealing with him, no,” the male uniform replied. “They’ve given us strict instructions not to let anyone inside the cordon.”

“Like you’re going to stop us.” Miller turned and raised an eyebrow at her partner, grabbed the tape and lifted it. Expecting an argument from the uniforms, she handed it to him. “If you’ve got a problem with this, make a complaint in writing.” The smile she gave was in complete contrast to her actions. “Thank you!”

Hayes walked by her side. “Thanks for doing that; I was about ready to punch him. There he is!” She pointed out a sorry-looking Richard Fisher.

Noticing the suits walking out of the workshop, Miller knew they would have only a short window with which to speak to Fisher. She sped her walk into a run. Arriving at Fisher’s window,