What do you guys think so far?
Any suggestions?
Rachel :)
Chapter 2
*BEEP-BEEP* *BEEP-BEEP* *BEEP-
Lewis groaned and blindly slapped his bedside table to find the source of the infernal ringing.
Grabbing his phone, he squinted at the caller ID, Innocent, and at the time, 10:31pm, before reluctantly hitting 'Accept Call' and holding it up to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Robbie! Thank god-"
He jerks up, all tiredness gone and immediately on guard.
"Ma'am?!"
"Robbie, listen, there's been... there's been an accident. We need you to come down".
He frowned, worried, "An accident? What do you mean by 'an accident', ma'am? Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine! It's- It's James, Robbie. I just... I just need you to get down to the station, okay?"
There's been an accident.
It's James.
We need you to come in.
And he knows.
He knows by the way she calls him by his first name, by her soft tone, by the strain in her voice, that it's something bad.
He just didn't think it'd be this bad.
He stared at the body in silent shock.
After Lewis had half-driven, half- swerved like a lunatic to the station, he had been met with sad eyes and pitying looks from all sides. He ignored them, pushing down the icy claws that gripped his heart and settled in his stomach like a cylinder block. It was just an accident, that didn't mean anything. Many people had accidents every day and didn't get injured too badly. He was fine, James was fine, everything was-
"Inspector".
He quickly stepped forwards as Innocent opened the door to her office, and he was fucking terrified when he saw the red rings surrounding her eyes.
"Please, come in" She whispered, retreating into her room.
He silently shut the door behind him, and she took a deep breath before turning around to face him once more.
"Robbie... I'm sorry" She said, "I'm so, so, sorry".
He was vaguely aware of slowly collapsing into the chair in front of her desk, his ears ringing and his head spinning, and he can't believe her, of course he can't, not when only six hours ago he had closed a case with his awkward lad and had a pint to celebrate, not when only five hours ago they had talked and joked and he'd even gotten a genuine grin out of the boy, and not when only four hours ago he had dropped him off at his apartment and told him he'd see him Monday morning.
Not when he'd left James Hathaway very much alive.
And that's what led him to now.
In the morgue.
Innocent and Laura standing across from him.
And the body of his best friend lying on the cold slab between them.
Lewis stared at the corpse in silent shock, his face bloodied and bruised beyond all recognition, but he had fair hair and was of a similar build and had been found in his car.
It was James.
It couldn't be James.
Not his awkward sod.
He felt numb, his mind strangely blank, and his hands were shaking.
A warm hand was place on his shoulder, "Robbie..."
He slowly turned and Laura's teary eyes met his own evenly, "I'm sorry... He was pronounced dead on scene, there was nothing anyone could do".
His graze drifted back to the broken limbs and deep gashes, taking in every tiny detail as it lowered to his neck, his collar bones, his shoulder-
Lewis blinked.
His shoulder.
His very bare shoulder.
He frowned and took a step closer, hands reaching out before stopping, unsure.
"Robbie?"
It couldn't be...
"Inspector?"
He studied the unblemished skin.
"... It's not him".
His voice was hoarse, rough.
"What?" Innocent asked quietly.
"It's not him" He repeated.
They stared at him.
"It's not him!" He continued, feeling almost light-headed, "Don't you see?! It's not James! It's not him!"
Laura got a pinched expression on her face, "Robbie..."
"No. I'm serious Laur-"
"As am I!" She snapped, "They pulled him out of his car, got his badge out of his jacket pocket, and it looks exactly like him!"
"You can't make out his face. No, it's not-"
"God dammit, Lewis, I've examined the body!" She stopped and took a deep breath, "I've examined James' body... Look, I know this is a- a- a shock, and it's painful, fuck it's painful, but don't do this to yourself".
Lewis shook his head at her, "For christ's sake woman, I'm not in denial! It's. Not. James!"
Silence.
"... How do you know?" Innocent asked quietly.
He spun back around and pointed at his shoulder, "Because he's missing one very obvious scar".
Laura was the first to notice.
"... The bullet wound".
Her voice was awed, almost hopeful.
Lewis nodded, "Exactly".
"What? What bullet wound?" Jean asked, confused.
"The Crévecoeur case" He explained, somewhat dizzy with relief, "With Mortmaige, ma'am. Hathaway drew his fire, saving my life, but got shot in the shoulder in the process. And it left one hell of a mark... And this- this- this body doesn't have one".
She frowned, "Is it possible that it faded over time?"
"No" Laura replied firmly, "Not one of that close a range, not a through-and-through. He's lucky he didn't sustain any muscle trauma from that shot, let alone got cleared for duty again... There's no way it didn't scar".
"I've seen the scar" He finished, "You couldn't miss it".
They all simultaneously turned back to the body.
"... Alcohol intake" Robbie said suddenly, "What was it?"
Dr. Hobson frowned but picked up the chart from her desk anyway, "It was... high. Very high. More than enough to be over the driving limit, that's for sure".
"We went to the pub, after the case" He explained, "He had a few pints, enough to make him tipsy, but not full-out drunk. I drove him home straight after".
She picked up a pen and began scribbling down notes, "How long ago was that?"
"A few hours ago?" He guessed, "Five, six, six and a half?"
"What are you trying to prove, Inspector?" Innocent asked, once again lost in the conversation, "That Hathaway was over the limit?"
"He would have been. But not by now".
"Are you sure?"
"He's the fittest bloke in the precinct!"
Laura raised a single eyebrow at him, and he scowled, "Oh, you know what I mean! James is active, he exercises a lot, he could've been recruited for the rowing Olympics, for christ's sake!"
Innocent glanced down at the body, "So his body should have processed the alcohol by now?"
"And it would have" Hobson finished, "If it were James. Based on his height and weight, he should've have a blood alcohol content of less than 0.04, well under the legal limit. This guy, however? He's hitting a high 0.16 BAC".
Their Superintendent slowly nodded, "And... And you're sure he wouldn't have had another when you left? This is Hathaway we're talking about".
"Meaning?"
She glared, "Meaning that you know as well as I do, Inspector, that Hathaway isn't entirely right in the head. It's one of the reasons he makes such a great detective".
"Because he's thinks different?" He snapped.
"Because he's an over thinker, as well as a highly intelligent man" She shot back, "But that's not the point here. The point, inspector, is that this man is not James Hathaway... So just who the hell is he?"