Page 31 of Ace My Heart

“No, Connie, no vet; we’re going on a holiday – someplace nice!” I promised, thrusting him into the cage before he could draw blood. He yowled in disapproval as I closed the little barred door.

I collected all his other paraphernalia and waited at the top of the stairs for Joel to come and help me. He didn’t. I leaned on my left leg, tapping my fingers against the bannister. Still nothing.

With a sigh, I picked up Connor and struggled my way down the stairs with him. I was out the door before I realised what had kept Joel. I froze as he came and stood beside me, taking the cage with the yowling Connor in it.

“Miss Black. Would you mind coming down to the station with us to answer a few questions?” Detective Taylor asked. I gulped, glancing pleadingly at Joel, not that he could help me.

He met my eyes, a grim expression on his face, “Call me when you need me to pick you up,” he offered, before loading Connor into the car, holding his hand out for my key. I passed it over, Joel squeezing my fingers briefly.

I sighed and clambered into the back seat of the police car. Detective Coughlin was waiting behind the wheel. I was surprised that Taylor let him drive – she didn’t seem to let him do anything else.

I sulked in the back seat on the drive to the station. The detectives didn’t seem to notice. That suited me just fine.

God, what is it this time?Why can’t they just leave me alone?

Coughlin played the gentleman by opening the door for me when we got out in the underground car park at the station.

Inside I was ushered into a little room that looked exactly like the ones in the movies. There was a two-way mirror on the wall and a voice recorder on the table. I sat in a hard-backed chair, Taylor opposite me, Coughlin by the door.

Then Taylor spoke to the voice recorder, “Interview with Melanie Black, in relation to the murder of Steven Herbert …”

My skin went cold as she stated the date and time. This was no joke. This was really fucking serious.

“So, Pete Levine corroborated your alibi,” Taylor began, tapping a pen against the table in the most annoying way andlooking up at me from under her sharp fringe. Why did she need a pen when she was recording this interview?

“I heard,” I replied.Told you so! I screamed inside my head.

“But there was something interesting about his story. Would you care to take a look?” Taylor’s voice was smug. My palms broke into a sweat. What did she mean,‘take a look’?

Taylor nodded at Coughlin, who switched off the lights and left the room. Taylor flicked on the TV screen. I had no idea what was going on until a too-familiar figure appeared on a bed on the screen, tinged with the green of a camera with night vision. I heard my slurring voice and I felt the blood rush to my face.

I thought I’d remembered everything about that night with Pete. Apparently, there was a lot that I hadn’t. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen – it was like a car wreck. I wanted to block my ears, block out the animal moans that were coming out of my mouth.

Taylor picked up an identical remote to the one Coughlin had used and flicked the video into fast forward. I thought it was bad watching it in real-time, but seeing myself on a screen sucking Pete’s dick and getting banged doggy-style in high speed was pretty horrific too. Pete had managed to position me so that, even in night mode, you could seeeverything.

Oh God.

Taylor didn’t slow down until the little time bar showed four-thirteen AM. Pete obviously hadn’t bothered to press stop when he’d caught on camera the part he wanted to.

Taylor turned to me as I continued to stare at the screen. You could see the sleeping forms of both of us in the bed. She was waiting for my reaction, but I was frozen, horrified. The video rolled on.

Then I saw it. I saw myself climb out of the bed and hobble drunkenly off-screen. My brow furrowed in confusion. Taylor continued to stare at me as she pressed fast-forward once more. The minutes ticked by. She pressed play. I watched myself clamber back into the bed and roll over.

“An hour and twelve minutes, Miss Black.” Taylor picked up thepen again and tapped it against the table. I chewed on my lip. What was her point?

“You can come back in now, Coughlin!” she shouted. The older man returned and flicked the lights back on. I squinted from the glare.

“So?” I asked, confusion tainting my tone. I remembered all too well curling up in front of Pete’s toilet bowl and hurling up half-digested pizza and too much vodka and juice.

Taylor looked at me like I was missing some really important point. I waited for her to get to it.

“Melanie, the coroner has declared that Steve was murdered between three and five AM.”

Oh. Oooooh.

Fuck!

“This is serious, Melanie. This almost puts you in a worse position than you were in before Pete came clean. You and Steve fought earlier in the day, and you’re seen leaving the bed of the man you insisted was your alibi around the time the murder took place, creeping back immediately after. It doesn’t look good. Did you know Pete was filming this?”

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