Moore’s gaze narrows on me. Please, if I was going to combust, I would have done it on the witness stand during the trial. Try harder. “You’re aware that two men went missing after visiting this nightclub a few weeks ago.”
“You already know that I am aware since I provided CCTV footage to help your investigation.”
Katie squeezes my hand, picking a spot on the desk to focus on as she tries to maintain her composure. It’s not just Moore that has her on edge, I can see the wheels turning in her mind as she tries to piece together the missing parts of the puzzle.
I’m going to have to tell her, if not everything, some of it.
It will be a bit of a shock at first. I’m not expecting her to take the news lightly. I doubt anyone would take the news of their partner being a murderer into a snuggly embrace. I don’t think she’ll run, or at least, not after the information sinks in. She does have a morbid fascination with serial killers and true crime stories, so in a strange way, this might intrigue her. However, I still worry about the impact it will have on our relationship and if she will ever be able to fully trust me again.
“Well,” Moore produces two photos from his pocket and slides them across the desk towards me. “These are the last known images of the missing men. We believe they were taken shortly before their disappearance. Can you identify anyone in these photos?” His gaze flits to Katie, her face is thankfully not visible, or at least, not fully visible in the pictures. The images show the lads leaving the club with two women, whose body language hints at intoxication. It’s a good thing that I told her about the bouncer thing, because this would have blown that story to smithereens.
I take a deep breath, studying the photos intently. The way he’s looking at my bug makes me think the bastard knows it’s her. “Nope,” I push the picture back towards Moore. “I don’t recognise anyone in these photos. Sorry.”
His eyes jump from Katie to me and back again. “You’re sure? Nobody looks even remotely familiar.”
“No,” I reply firmly. “I’ve never seen the lads before I was asked for the footage.”
Moore shifts in his chair, the scent of Old Spice wafting through the air. “And the women?”
Does this idiot think that I can’t see the snare in his line of questioning? Just because I see the noose doesn’t mean I’m going to stick my head in it. “Do you have any idea how many women enter this nightclub every weekend? It’s impossible for me to keep track of every face that comes through here.”
Moore leans forward, his hand sliding across the desk, to retrieve the photos. “You said you were working that night?”
“Correct.”
“And what did you do afterwards?” I can tell he’s searching for any sign of deception. He won’t find any, the only person I allow the mask to fall for is currently fidgeting in the chair beside me.
“He was with me.” Katie raises her head, no longer staring into the abyss, she’s opted to burn a hole through the detective instead.
“The entire night?” Moore presses.
“I’m a light sleeper, I would have noticed if he suddenly left the room.” Not a lie, she seems to have a sixth sense for these things. Perhaps it is an ability developed from living for years in a domestically violent household, because every time I so much as step into a room when she’s asleep, Katie wakes upimmediately. It’s like she has a built-in alarm system.
Moore takes note of Katie’s statement, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes the information. He pulls out another photo and slides it towards Katie, this one is of us at a traffic light further down the road. Moore asks, “Can you confirm this is you in the picture?”
You can see both of our faces clearly, you can’t, however, see Ciara anywhere in the car. Maybe it’s a good thing that I tossed her into the back seat like a sack of spuds. It keeps her out of this.
I feel the heat in her hand drain. This must be painful for her. Seeing photographic evidence of a night she cannot remember. Katie hesitates for a moment, her eyes fixed on the photo. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“You appear to be sleeping,” He presses. “Which is odd because you weren’t on any of the previous footage we reviewed. Can you explain how you ended up in AJ’s car?”
Thankfully, I had placed my jacket over her that night, covering up what she was wearing, so he has no comparison to the other photos. “She—”
“I asked the lady a question, Aiden, not you,” the detective interrupts.
“How’s Billy?” It’s the first thing I can think to say to distract the bastard from pressing further. It’s also a mild threat. I took the green light off his drug smuggling son, and I can put it back on just as quickly. But Moore doesn’t flinch. “We’re not here to discuss Billy,” he says firmly. “We’re here to find out what happened that night. So, please, answer the question, Katie.”
“I got a taxi to meet Aiden, but the guy gave me a weird vibe, so I got out and decided to walk instead,”she’s quick off the mark to weave a cover story. Another survival skill perhaps? “I texted Aiden to tell him what happened, and he told me he’d come and get me.”
Moore’s gaze turns back to me. “You are seen leaving the carpark at half one in the morning. This,” he taps the picture, “is timestamped at twenty-to-two.” He turns back to Katie, asking, “Is there any reason that you seem to be sleeping in this picture?”
“I clearly drugged her and sold her on the dark web.” Is this idiot trying to say that I abducted her? Well, technically, yes, I did, but it was that or leave her passed out in the derelict bookshop. She was safer with me. “This is what we like to call Stockholm syndrome.”
Moore glares at me. It has nothing on my bug’s stare when she’s pissed.
Katie squeezes her lips together, trying to suppress a smirk. “I had a headache. I was resting my eyes.”
“And you were together all night?”
