Page 40 of Real Rocks
He tapped something into his computer, his frown deepening as he looked at the screen.
Please, please, don’t let there be an issue.
My silent prayer appeared to have been answered as his face relaxed and he grabbed a spare card from a drawer, activating it within seconds.
“Here you go.” He gave me a small smile, which didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Thank you,” I breathed. I clutched the key to my chest and made my way to the elevator.
The room was empty. I don’t know why I was expecting otherwise.
We’d left the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on when we’d left the previous evening, so the room was in the chaotic state we’d left it.
One of Tris’ t-shirts was on the bed and I grabbed it, bringing it to my face and breathing in the faint, lingering familiar scent of his aftershave. A single tear slid down my cheek, but I quickly brushed it away. I needed to pull myself together, get to the police station and get this mess sorted out. I wanted us to go home.
Twenty minutes later, I was back down in reception waiting for Darren. I tapped my fingers against my thigh impatiently as I stood there. Given I hadn’t factored a police visit into this trip, I dressed as smartly as I could. My outfit consisted of black jeans, a purple tie-dye t-shirt and a leather biker jacket. Although at least the stripper heels had been replaced by Converse now. I hoped it would be enough to persuade the people asking questions I was a strong, upstanding citizen and not a flaky rock star, battling a horrific hangover.
“Sorry!” Darren burst through the door. “I had to tell Barney and Tommo what was going on. They’re going to head home. We’ll meet them in London.”
With all of my heart, I hoped we would all be going back to London later.
Once I’d arrived at the police station and asked for Detective Sanders, he kept me waiting for a good half an hour. During that time, my mind went over every possible scenario: ranging from Tris already being released, to him still being questioned, to seeing Carl again. The thought of the latter made me feel sick.
My stomach rumbled loudly, the sound filling the waiting room.
“Did you eat?” asked Darren.
I shook my head. I’d been more concerned about getting here than with food.
“Let me get you something from the machine.” The minute he stood up, a man dressed in a cheap-looking suit appeared.
“Saffron Barnes?”
Given there was no-one else waiting, it was a pretty good guess from him. If he were so intuitive, Tris should have no issues in being released. I kept my thoughts to myself though, I didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot.
“Yes. Detective Sanders?”
“Thanks for coming in.” He extended a hand and I shook it, feeling the clamminess of his palms.
Surreptitiously, I wiped my palm on my jeans as I followed him towards an interview room.
“Good luck!” called Darren.
Right at that moment, I felt like the criminal even though I’d done nothing wrong. I was there to help Tris.
Two hours later, I had absolutely no idea whether I’d been any help whatsoever.
Detective Sanders had asked me several questions—what felt like the same question but in about a hundred different ways—to try and understand the circumstances of Tris and Carl’s fight. He’d quizzed me about my relationship with Tris, how I’d come to know Carl, my drug use, the band’s tour and he’d even asked about Scott Lincoln. Quite what Scott had to do with anything I had no idea, maybe Detective Sanders liked his gossip.
“Thank you for coming in, Ms Barnes. We’ll look at your statement, along with those of other people present at the incident, and one of the officers will inform you of any next steps.” He shuffled his papers together, seemingly dismissing me.
“What? That’s it?” I stared across the table at him. “Can I see Tris?”
“No. Visitors aren’t allowed in custody suites.”
The abruptness of his answer shocked me. I’d spent the past couple of hours helping him out with his enquiries and he couldn’t even grant me a few minutes with my boyfriend?
“Then can I at least speak to him?”
