‘Will you stay, here, tonight? I don’t want to be alone, especially if the police come.’
‘Of course I will,’ he immediately answered. Then thought about the logistics, where would he sleep?
‘I’ve a camp bed in the spare room,’ Jasmine told him, answering his question.
‘No problem, I’ll be here for you,’ he told her, his voice slightly catching.
As he settled down, Robin stared up into the darkness and took stock of the day. It had certainly been an emotional one. Then again, on reflection, the last few days had been rather taxing for him. He pictured himself on Adrian Hall’s premises, climbing the roof of his building, opening up his garage doors, then scampering off through the yard. What if someone had seen him, or even worse, told Adrian? Would there be repercussions? He remembered Adrian having a bit of a rough reputation. Was he in for a bruising? But reason kicked in – what option had he but to involve the police? He’d face ten Adrian Halls if it meant doing the right thing by Jasmine. His eyes filled at how she had reacted. Poor Jasmine, he so wanted to care and shield her.
His thoughts took a darker turn. If Adrian was charged, it would be all over the press and get intense media coverage. Road deaths and hit-and-runs happened all the time, sure, and didn’t get much coverage, but in their surrounding communities, this had been a huge regional shock at the time – no doubt reporters would want to wrap up the story now it had an ending. Reporters were bound to turn up at the cottages, wanting to snap pictures of Jasmine, even attempt to interview or get a response from her. It was going to be a nightmare. Perhaps he ought to suggest she go back to her parents’ house until it all settled? But then, he suspected, the press would already know their address from when the accident happened. A plan was starting to form in his head, which seemed ideal the more he considered it.
Chapter 18
It hadn’t taken long for him to crack. Once under the spotlight, Adrian had sung like a canary and wept like a baby. The police had only needed to scratch the surface. When they’d presented the photographs of his damaged white van, he’d crumbled. Yes, it was his van. Yes, it had killed Tom Boyd. No, he hadn’t been driving it. That had been a man who had previously worked for him, but after the accident had disappeared.
‘Who is he? Where’s he gone?’ demanded one of the police officers interviewing him.
‘His name is Ian Dixon,’ cried Adrian. ‘I don’t know where he is now, honestly.’
‘Tell us exactly what happened that night,’ barked the other officer.
Adrian looked nervously towards the tape machine and swallowed.
‘It was a Friday night. Me and Ian had just finished a big job near Carston.’
‘What job?’ interrupted one of the officers.
‘Digging out a double driveway,’ Adrian replied, then continued. ‘I suggested we go for a pint, local like, so we ended up at The Mariners on the high street. Only, one pint led to another, and before we knew it, we… were over the limit.’
‘How much had you both drunk?’
‘Well… I’d say about six or seven pints,’ Adrian answered lamely.
‘Go on.’
‘So I says we’d better get a taxi like, then come back for the van the next day, but Ian said no, he would drive us home, that he’d be fine.’
‘What, aftersevenpints?’ asked the other officer incredulously.
‘Yes.’ Adrian looked down in shame.
‘Then what happened?’
‘I says are you sure, and Ian says yes, he’d be OK to drive, so… I handed him over the van keys.’
‘And are you quite sure this happened? Thatyoudidn’t get behind the wheel?’ the sceptical tone in the policeman’s voice was evident.
‘Yes! Definitely!’ Adrian shot back in alarm. ‘I swear, I gave him the keys, Ian drove.’
‘Then what?’
‘Well, we gets in the van, start it up and hadn’t got too far before this figure comes out of nowhere and the next thing,thud, it’s on the bloody bonnet of the van! Ian didn’t stop in time and the body’s then flung into the middle of the road. We panicked, we—’
‘Drove off and left a man for dead,’ cut in an officer with venom.
There was a charged silence. Adrian broke down in tears again.
‘Yes,’ he sobbed, ‘we left that poor bloke dead in the road… His poor wife…’ More crying followed.
