Читать книгу Twice In A Lifetime - Kierney Scott - Страница 11

Liam hesitated before he dialled his lawyer. He could not ignore the temptation to forget about Sam and let justice take its course. He tapped his fingers against the arm rest. He considered his options. There were a few ways this could play out. The easiest and most tempting was for him to do nothing. He would tell Sarah he did his best and she would be none the wiser. Or he could put himself on the line for a man he detested. The choice would be simple if it weren’t for Sarah, and the last remnants of Liam’s conscience. Sam deserved to be punished but he did not deserve to be killed.

“Hello, Sayid. I have a situation,” Liam said when his lawyer picked up at the other end.

Liam explained the circumstances in detail. Sayid told Liam he would make some enquiries and phone him back when he knew more.

Liam went into work and waited for his lawyer to phone. He used the time to research options for Sam and make phone calls. Sayid was the best corporate lawyer money could buy, but he did not have much cause to bone up on criminal law. Liam ran a hand through his hair and swore. It was a bloody mess.

Sayid did not phone back until after ten.

“How long does it take to locate one detainee?” Liam asked when he picked up the phone.

“A while when that detainee is being interviewed,” Sayid said.

“You mean being interrogated?” Liam asked, although he knew the answer.

“That is one way to put it. I would suggest the police would say they were helping him divulge pertinent information.”

“Save it, Sayid. Where is he now?”

“They are taking him to a police station.”

“Great. Send me the address. I will meet you there. I need fifteen minutes to speak to him. Make it happen.”

The police station was inhumanely hot, the only air conditioning being a free-standing fan. The heat served to heighten the intense smell of urine, while the fan played its part by making sure the scent reached everyone’s nostrils undiluted.

Sayid greeted the police officer, exchanged pleasantries, and offered the man a manila envelope. The officer opened the packet and counted the notes before he nodded and pointed to a corridor. “At the end.”

Liam walked to the end and looked into the cell. At first he could not see Sam. He was lying in the dark, his back to him. Liam could just make out his form. A presumably once white shirt was lying beside him, covered in what appeared to be dirt and dry vomit.

“Sam,” Liam said. When he didn’t stir, Liam called his name louder.

“And the torture begins,” Sam said. He sat up and slowly moved his legs over the side of the rusted bed frame.

Liam’s breath hitched when he saw him. He could not have been prepared for the change in his once best friend. Liam had seen plenty of addicts before, but he couldn’t remember anyone as ravaged by drugs as the shadow of a man in front of him. Sam was a pathetic sight. He reminded Liam of a mangy dog, beaten and left on the side of the road. His anger became laced with a strange sadness that he could not understand.

Liam couldn’t be sure how much of Sam’s appearance was down to withdrawals and how much was from years of abusing his body. Sam was the same height as Liam, but weighed at least three stone less. His cheeks were hollow and black circles encased his eyes. His short black hair was matted to his head. His arms were covered in the telltale blue ink of prison tattoos. They were layered, one on top of the other, bleeding into each other, creating the effect of one continuous stain on his limbs. And on his chest, scribbled above his heart, was the name “Sarah”.

Liam clenched his hands into fists, his anger rekindled. He didn’t care what Sam did with his life, but he was going to make sure he stopped dragging Sarah into it. “Fucking up in Scotland wasn’t grand enough for you.”

Sam smiled, but only half his mouth rose. He had appreciably less teeth than when Liam had seen him last.

“Sarah called you? Knew she would. She’s my doll, always sees me right.” He patted her name above his heart.

“Why can’t you fuck up on your own and leave her out of it?”

“You were always jealous of me. Not my fault she picked me, man.”

“You are pathetic.”

“Aye, but I got her. You got your money and your fancy job but you don’t have her. That’s what you always wanted, all that cash, and she picked me. Must have been pretty shit in bed for her to come running to me when it was done.”

Liam squeezed the iron bars between his fists until his hands drained of colour. “You are facing the death penalty. They want to kill you.” Liam thought of the expression about not wishing things on his worst enemy. He was looking at his, and he realised all the things he wished on Sam he had done to himself.

“Aye, so I’ve heard, but what can ya do? I’ve had a good run.”

“You’re just going to give up?” Liam shook his head. “That would be about right. You can’t even man up enough to try to save yourself. You’re pathetic.”

“Yep,” Sam admitted. He rubbed at the dark stubble along his chin. “But remind me again, who Sarah picked?”

“You mention her name again, and I will walk out of here and I will let you face a firing squad.”

“You still want her, don’t you? But you can’t have her. Because she doesn’t want you. You can get yourself all prettied up with your bullshit English accent and your Italian suits, but she will always know you are faking it. We all know who your mama is so you can stop pretending.”

Liam clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. He turned and walked away, and then he stopped as he remembered Sarah’s face, asking him for help. That had taken courage he hadn’t known she had. Slowly he turned back round. If it was for anyone else, Sam would be dead. “Do you want to die? Because if I walk out now you will.”

“Que sera sera,” Sam sang. He was lying down again, facing the wall.

Liam took a deep breath. His legs itched to just walk away. Sam’s was not a life worth saving. He knew that; Sam knew that. But Sarah… Sarah didn’t realise that even if they managed to save him this time, Sam would just throw it all away. Because that was what addicts did. “This is how it is going to go down. I am going to see that the evidence against you is misplaced and you are released from here and sent to rehab in America. I have found a treatment centre with security to rival Guantanamo Bay. If you try to leave or even try to call her before the year is up, you have had it. Do you understand?”