12 Hours To Say I Love You by Olivia Poulet and Laurence Dobiesz

Author:Olivia Poulet and Laurence Dobiesz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hachette Headline Review
Published: 2021-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

2 March 2019

06:39

‘Sorry it’s taken us a while to get here. Been a hectic night out there.’

The taller of the two policewomen lisps slightly and repeatedly chews at her dry lips. The shorter one blinks a lot, her eyes darting round the room like they’re giving chase to a fly. They both appear ill at ease, backs flat against the wall as if awaiting mugshots.

Finally the tall one steps forward holding out a large see-through plastic bag. She reminds Steve of a Quentin Blake pencil drawing, all limbs and angles.

‘We thought we should get them back to you as soon as possible.’

Their too-clean uniforms look uncomfortably stiff, as if they’ve been dressed in the next size up, to grow into.

‘Your wife’s effects, recovered at the scene.’ The shorter one speaks with a gentle Geordie accent.

Steve slowly takes the bag, unsure what he is meant to do with it. Thank her? Have a look inside to confirm the contents? He does neither; just holds the zip-locked seam tight between his fingers.

There’s something of the awkward cocktail party about the scene. Three guests loitering in a hallway, desperate for a top-up to lubricate proceedings. Uncomfortable smiles and ponderous silences that no one is quite sure how to break.

‘Her handbag is in there,’ tall cop continues. ‘Her mobile phone and a pair of shoes. High heels. They were removed from her feet at the scene. If you have any questions . . .’

Questions? Does he have questions?

The shorter policewoman takes up the baton. ‘There was an eyewitness, and we’ve gathered as many details as we could from him. He drove past just before the accident, but was able to make out what appeared to take place.’

Steve is suddenly wide awake, desperate for answers but also terrified of what he’s going to hear.

‘Apparently your wife was, er, distracted, at the time of impact.’

‘Distracted?’

‘Yes. According to the eyewitness, she appeared to be typing on her phone.’

‘Texting? While she was driving? No. No way. Pippa would never do that.’

Geordie cop bristles, not used to being challenged.

‘I assure you the gentleman was quite certain, Mr Gallagher, and we have no reason to doubt him.’

‘Well I assure you there must be some mistake.’

A vein on her right temple pops out and begins to pulse. An unfortunate tell. She stares at him, her mouth pursed in a tight circle. Steve holds the side of the chair, a feeling close to rage stirring in his belly.

‘The gentleman has given a clear statement laying out exactly what he witnessed.’ She reaches into her back pocket, pulls out a small black notebook and flicks to the middle. ‘He states that your wife was “clearly distracted by her mobile telephone, and then appeared to drop it into the footwell”. He states that he didn’t see what happened next as he had overtaken her vehicle by this point. A moment later, he heard the sound of the collision.’

Steve struggles for air. He feels an intense pressure on his ribcage.

The sound of the collision.

Suddenly the room is filled with exploding glass, screeching tyres, crunching metal.

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