"Interview with D.I Alex Drake, November 12th 1981. Also present in the room are myself - D.C.I Robertson, and D.I Mathews".
The interview room at this station was not very different to those at Alex's own station.
It was very bare and unimpressive, just a table in the middle with two chairs on each side.
There were some items on the table in clear plastic evidence bags along with some paperwork belonging to the interviewing officers.
The room itself was of a similar grey to the one Alex was used to at her own station, here in 1981.

D.C.I Robertson and D.I Mathews sat silently opposite Alex, while they prepared paperwork.
D.C.I Robertson appeared to be of a similar age to Gene. He sat staring at Alex as if trying to break her with his glare before the interview even began. Robertsonappeared emotionally hard and gave Alex an impression of coldness.
Mathews sat next to Robertson. He appeared younger, by about seven to eight years, but didn't appear quite as hard looking as Robertson.

Alex sat silent and alone opposite them, waiting for the inevitable questioning to begin.
The events of the morning had all taken place so fast and she was still having trouble taking it all in. It seemed almost unbelievable. She had hoped that it had, at first, all been a very bad joke made in poor taste. But that hadn't been the case. Alex had been utterly mortified when she had been arrested in full view of her colleagues on such major and outrageous charges. After leaving the CID office, Robertson and Mathews had bundled her into the back of a waiting police car from their own station and driven off.

Alex had watched the journey go by from the back seat, wondering how she would get out of this mess. She couldn't possibly use the truth as an explanation. They would never believe that the people she stood accused of murdering were her own parents and she had simply been trying to prevent something which, in her own life, had already happened. If she gave that explanation they would think her mentally ill, find her guilty on grounds of diminished responsibility, and definitely throw away the key.

Once at the station, they had taken Alex through the familiar routine of booking her in and had then locked her in a bare empty cell until they were ready to interview her. She had been brought to the interview room a few minutes ago and Alex now sat, waiting for the interview to begin.
"First off", D.C.I Robertson finally began, "A little admin problem".
Alex looked at him from across the table and listened.
"The brief you requested, Evan White", Robertson explained looking at some paperwork before him, "I'm afraid we can't allow you to use him as he will be called as a witness and we will be seeking to question him later on in relation to this case".
Alex felt another pang of dread as she digested this news. This wasn't good.
When asked if there was anyone in particular she wanted to act as her legal representative, she had immediately requested Evan. She already trusted him and she knew he was good, better than good, excellent at what he did. If anyone could help get her out of this mess, it was Evan.

Alex had thought and thought during her time in the police cell and had been completely unable to think of a reason as to why she had been deemed a suspect in the Price murders. She was a police officer, she solved murders, she didn't cause them! The only thing she could think of was that she had upset someone, a criminal probably, and they had simply made up a false accusation then taken it to the police. Unlikely as the accusation may be, the police would have to investigate such a serious accusation. With no evidence, Alex couldn't see how the case could possibly hold and with that she felt quietly confident that she would be released as soon as it was clear that she was innocent. The police would of course have to make their enquiries, follow up any supposed leads, find there was no evidence to build a case on and then let her go. Taking a wild guess Alex reasoned that this should take no more the twenty four, maybe forty eight hours at the absolutely very most. Then she would be out and this distasteful matter would all be cleared up.

Once out she would definitely head to Luigi's and, no matter how much Gene may try and stop her, she was going to get absolutely smashed in both celebration and relief. As far as Alex was concerned, there was absolutely no evidence against her. It was impossible for there to be as she knew she wasn't involved. However, she did feel incredibly uncomfortable in this situation as it was totally alien to her and unexpected. And that was why she had wanted Evan. Not only for his excellent legal expertise, but because she simply wanted to someone to be her rock, a friendly and familiar face to give reassurance. Much as she doubted the strength of any case against her, she knew from experience that Evan was highly skilled when it came to running rings around police arguments.

"We will appoint you a brief as soon as possible", Robertson continued.
"Now for the time being, we shall continue".
There was silence for a moment until Robertson began his first question.
"So, D.I Drake", he began staring hard at her yet again, "How did you first come to meet the Prices?"
Alex thought back to just after her arrival in 1981 and the case of the threats against the developer Danny Moore.
"Caroline Price was representing a young man who was thought to be making threats against a Docklands developer", Alex explained honestly.
"I see", Robertson acknowledged as Mathews noted things down on a notepad.
"And this first meeting", the D.C.I probed, "did it go well?"
"It was..." Alex tried to think of an appropriate description, "...a heated debate took place".
"So your first meeting with Caroline Price didn't get off to a good start then?" Robertson continued.
"She was just doing her job", Alex defended as she recalled her first meeting with Caroline degenerating into a very bitchy argument, "as was I."
"Point taken", he nodded as he looked to his next question, "and Timothy Price?"
"I didn't meet Tim Price until some time later", Alex explained, "I went to see him at court to warn him that we had information that both he and his family might be in danger".
"Ah yes...the car bombing", D.C.I Robertson noted. "This car bomb that you seemed to know all about in advance. Funny that don't you think?"
Alex didn't like his tone. It was very condescending.
"I had a tip off from an informant", Alex replied in part truth as remembered back to that day.
She had indeed had a tip off from an informant, but there was no way she could admit that the informant had simply been herself making a fake telephone call to her own office phone.
"An informant", Robertson repeated, "and would you care to name this informant so we could check the facts?"
Alex shook her head.
"Why not?" Robertson probed.
"I don't know who it was", Alex lied. She didn't like lying.
She was trained to spot when someone was lying and she certainly didn't like having to lie herself during a police interview. However, she could see no other option.
"I received a telephone call early on the morning of October 9th warning that a car bomb would go off at 10am the following morning", Alex recounted. This matched what she had told Ray moments later on that very day.
"I see", Robertson said leaving an opening for Alex to continue.
"Naturally I felt it necessary to warn the Prices of this possible threat to their lives so I went to the court and met with Tim Price".
"And did he believe you?" Robertson pondered aloud.
"No", Alex shook her head and looked downwards, "No, he didn't".
Mathews continued to note things down.

"Moving the subject along a little...", Robertson sat back in his chair, clearly feeling relaxed that he had the upper hand and that he had more cards up his sleeve.
"Would it be true to say that you often called at the Prices' house in various emotional states during the time that you knew them?"
Alex didn't like the way this questioning was going. She felt as if Robertson believed she was guilty. He had the typical look that Alex recognised of a copper who knew they had their man, or in this case, woman.
"I..." Alex paused as she thought carefully how to answer, "I did call on Caroline a few times, yes".

Robertson picked up one of the plastic evidence bags.
Alex eyed the contents as he opened it up and removed something.
It was a small book, a diary.
"This is the personal diary of Caroline Price", he explained as he opened it at a page that had been bookmarked by a slip of paper.
Alex looked at it, her own mother'sdiary and it seemed it was to be used against her.
"Let me read you an extract", Robertson held the book ready to read...
"D.I Drake called around again today. She was visibly distressed and I felt that there was something she was trying desperately to tell me. She said she had to leave but never revealed where she was going to. I feel that she wants to confide in me but something is holding her back. It is good to have the confidence of this young lady but I feel there are some deep dark problems which she hides away. She appears extremely troubled and is a deep mystery indeed".
"Care to explain why Caroline Price would think this of you?" Robertson quizzed.
Alex shook her head.She didn't want to reply just yet. Hearing her mother's opinion of her had been something Alex hadn't expected.
"Well let's try another one then", Robertson turned the page, "This diary also makes mention of some photographs, revealing photographs it would seem".

Alex looked away, she didn't like where this was going. This was her mother they were talking about! Robertson knew too much about the Prices'. He smiled in satisfaction at Alex's silence as he reached into another evidence bag and pulled out an A4 brown envelope.
"Would these be the photographs by any chance?" He opened the envelope and Alex immediately recognised the infamous photographs of Caroline and Evan.
This was upsetting. They were misinterpreting everything. The police must have gone through the Price house and searched for anything that could have given their killer a motive for the murders.
"Do you recognise these photographs?" Robertson held one of them up, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Alex simply nodded and quietly admitted, "yes".
"These were being used by a chap, now deceased, called Martin Kennedy to blackmail Mrs Price, were they not?" Robertson checked, "it's all in the diary".
"That's true", Alex concurred with him.

The hard faced D.C.I sat for a moment and the room remained silent while he again simply stared at Alex.
"So with Kennedy dead", he began his train of thought, "You could easily have continued the blackmail".
Alex sat bolt upright.
"What?!" she stormed, her eyes widening in bewilderment.
"Although you gave the originals back to Mrs. Price", he surmised, "it is not inconceivable that you made copies and decided to blackmail Mrs. Price yourself".
"That is utter nonsense!" Alex defended herself, amazed at the ridiculous allegations she was hearing.
"And in continuing the blackmail, you had cause to visit the Prices' on numerous occasions", he continued, "but Mrs Price wouldn't pay would she? Or would she simply not pay enough?".
"This never happened!" Alex leant towards Robertson and banged the palm of her hand down on the table to emphasise her point, "This is rubbish!".
"And when Mrs. Price wouldn't pay, you feared she would report you to your superiors or even take it to the media", Robertson continued, "After all, the Prices' certainly had a bee in their bonnet about police corruption, didn't they?".
"You're just making all of this up!" Alex continued to defend herself, her pulse beginning to race in anger.
"The only way to stop this scheme backfiring on you was to eliminate them", Robertson leant forwards towards Alex as if going in for the kill, "And to do that you hired someone to blow them to bits on your behalf".

Alex said nothing for a moment. She was simply too amazed. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"You can't be serious", she attempted to make him see reason. "I would never harm anyone, let alone hire a bloody hit man".
"Not necessarily a hit man", Robertson shook his head, "Just someone who knows their way around a bomb...and someone you may have had dealings with in the past".
"You're mad", Alex shook her head.
"Really?" Robertson laughed, "D.I. Drake, tell me about your dealings with a Mr Arthur Layton".
Alex froze momentarily as that accursed name cropped up again.
"What?" she asked, surprised.
"Arthur Layton. Former drug lord whom you yourself arrested...Yet you visited him in prison twice just before the bombing"
"So what if I did?" Alex demanded.
"Was it to cut a deal maybe?" Robertson asked pointing his pen towards Alex.
"How can you possibly think all this?" Alex shook her head, simply not comprehending where this could all be coming from.
"Perhaps both the charges and evidence against Layton might mysteriously vanish if he did this one job for you", Robertson nodded, "and on a day he was due for a bail hearing too...How convenient".
"Listen to me", Alex pleaded, "You can't seriously believe any of this can you? There can't even be any evidence!"
"Can't there?" Robertson raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise.
"No there isn't!" Alex said sternly, "and you know that as well as I do".
"Right..." Robertson huffed and opened yet another evidence bag.
"At the time of your arrest and acting on a tip off, officers from this station staged a search of your flat", Robertson grinned sarcastically, "and some verrrry interesting items came to light".

Alex was shocked. So she had been right. Someone had been in her flat after all. Yet Robertson said his officers had searched the flat as Alex was being arrested. So someone else must have been in there first?
"There's nothing at all relevant in my flat", Alex shrugged confidently, "You know it. I know it".
"You don't find anything remotely disturbing about this then?" Robertson offered the evidence sealed in the clear bags to Alex, "all found pinned to a notice board on the wall of your flat".
Alex's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened as she saw the contents. Suddenly everything became dramatically clearer. Without thinking, Alex clasped her hand over her open mouth as she realised with horror what had been found and how it could be perceived.
"Let's see...", Robertson pointed to the evidence in turn, "Numerous newspaper clippings about the Price family. Articles about their court cases and even articles about their private life".
Robertson then pointed to the next item.
"The Price family's private home telephone number on a scrap of paper".
He pointed to the third item.
"And most disturbing yet fascinating of all", he almost growled, "A calendar marking off the days up to the Price murders, but nothing marked off since. How very odd indeed".

Alex felt her heart sink. She knew how it looked. As a trained police psychologist she knew that even she would find that suspicious if she came across similar items in a suspect's flat.
But Alex had never, not even once in 1981, thought of her cuttings and the calendar in that particular context - up until now. It had never been her intention for anybody but herself to ever see these items anyway. As far as she had been concerned, she would prevent the bombing and wake up back in 2008. She had never thought about how things such as the calendar and news clippings could be misinterpreted had she failed to save her parents, because failure had never entered her head.

"That's a little obsessive don't you think D.I Drake?", Robertson simply asked.
Alex felt as if she were now sinking into a dark metaphorical hole that would be hard to climb out of. She looked at the items and her heart raced with the adrenalin. She knew how this all looked, and it looked bad. What Alex had initially thought would be a simple interview resulting in her being released, had now become far more complicated. She was in trouble and she knew it.

"Oh dear..." Robertson gloated, "it appears the cat's got your tongue now".
"It's not how it seems", Alex's mind was racing to think up a logical explanation.
"It isn't?" Robertson raised his eyebrows inquisitively, "So if you saw this is a suspect's place of residence you wouldn't find this in any way suspicious, then?...And you call yourself a D.I!"
"Look, just stop twisting the facts", Alex attempted to reason with Robertson.
"I'm not twisting any facts", Robertson gave that icy stare again, "I'm not the one who appears to have some twisted obsession with this poor family."

"Everything you have..." Alex began, "Everything you have is entirely circumstantial!".
"I think this is very solid evidence actually", Robertson disagreed, "Now all we need is to establish your motive".
"My motive?" Alex reacted angrily, "Motive? There is no motive because I didn't do it!"
Robertson moved the evidence aside as he began yet again.
"Let's level with each other here, D.I Drake", he said sounding almost civil for once, "We're all coppers in this room so none of us had any particular love for those damned Prices'. I'm sure that if you asked around the Met you'd even find some who feel this car bombing did us a favour by getting rid of those two and their constant crusades against good everyday coppers like us".

Alex didn't react. It was hard to sit opposite someone who was talking about her parents in such a cruel and inhuman manner.
"So was that it D.I Drake?" Robertson questioned, "had you simply had enough of them and arranged for them to be 'got rid of'?"
"Ofcourse not! I have never killed anybody!" Alex's tone was hardening against Robertson's onslaughts.
"Or was something far deeper and darker going on here, Drake?" Robertson said dropping the title of D.I from her name, finger pointing to the evidence from Alex's flat.
"This is utter nonsense!" Alex again rejected the accusation.

"Tell me, do you take drugs D.I Drake?"
"What?" Alex replied in amazement.
"It's a simple enough question", Robertson shrugged as he looked at her, "do you take drugs?".
"Ofcourse not!" Alex shook her head in clear offence at the suggestion, "I'm a police officer, ofcourse I don't!"
"Yet an accusation was made, but never followed up due to the car bombing..." Robertson grinned again, "...that you barged into the Price house on the day of October 9th and planted cocaine on the premises before arresting the Prices'".
'Oh God'...Alex thought to herself. It couldn't get any worse could it?
"Is the allegation true D.I Drake?" Robertson simply asked.
"I was trying to protect them!" Alex protested, "I had to try and stop them from getting in that car!"
"So you're admitting to planting drugs?" Robertson asked, feeling he was beginning to get somewhere.
"I was trying to prevent a murder!" Alex continued to try and explain.
"Yes or no, D.I Drake!" Robertson demanded angrily, "Did you plant drugs on the Prices?!".
Alex sighed a desperate sigh. She placed her elbows on the table and let her face drop into her hands.
"Yes..." she simply admitted reluctantly.
"Finally!" Robertson leant back in his chair triumphantly, "Some truth! Now we're finally getting somewhere!"

Alex remained as she was. This was going very badly and she knew it. She took a few moments to steady her breathing. She hadn't liked admitting the accusation of planting the cocaine, but she had been verbally backed into a corner and had been left no choice. Now she knew the admission had weakened her already bad position and she felt vulnerable. Alex sat back up again and pushed back the curls that had flopped forwards over her face. As she looked, she saw Robertson and Mathews were conferring quietly between themselves. She knew full well what was going on. Alex took a deep breath in an attempt to bury the feeling of utter dread that had begun to rise within her. She braced herself for what she knew was coming.

Robertson looked back round towards Alex, as did Mathews.
Robertson gathered his paperwork together as Mathews collected the evidence bags back up into a pile.
"I don't think it will come as a surprise to you D.I Drake but your answers have proven to be far less than satisfactory and I am now informing you that we are indeed formally charging you with the murders of Timothy and Caroline Price, the attempted murder of Alexandra Price and possession of cocaine"," the DCI announced as he got to his feet, "Mathews, get someone to take her away".

Alex felt sick to her stomach as her world was rocked by Robertson's announcement.
The next thing she knew, a female WPC was taking hold of her arm and asking her to get to her feet. Alex complied, feeling herself trembling slightly as she stood. Her mind was racing as she was led from the interview room and back towards the cells, but everything seemed cloudy and confused. Alex saw the police cell getting nearer and nearer until she stepped back inside it and the door made the familiar clang as it shut behind her.

For a moment Alex simply stood, the information slowly sinking in and the gravity of her situation beginning to weigh upon her mind. Alex moved to lean her back against the wall.
As she did, her mind flashed up a familiar image.
Candles, birthday cake...Molly.
Alex's eyes quickly welled up with tears as she slowly sank down the wall and sat on the floor.
She hugged her legs tightly and lowered her head forwards to her knees as she began to sob.

The golden whisky swirled around the glass, its scent wafting around the office as Gene prepared to down the liquid. It certainly wasn't the first whiskey he had drunk that day.
Since Alex had been arrested and hauled from the building Gene had mostly remained in his office. His initial reaction had been to storm up to see the 'Super' and, in no uncertain terms, demand an explanation. Gene himself had brought the explanation back to his CID.
Once Alex had been deemed a suspect, a nearby station had taken on the investigation to avoid any bias or possible cover up that might result from investigating ones own colleague.
The 'Super' had tried to sound reassuring, stating that it was merely procedure and that as a result Alex was suspended until further notice.

Gene was angry, terribly angry. He had sat in his office ever since coming back down to CID and passing on the 'Super's' words. He had a folder of paperwork on his desk which required his attention but Gene had refused to even look at it all day, partly in protest and partly due to his anger. He simply couldn't focus his mind on anything other than Alex.
He had sat there for hours now, just waiting for his telephone to ring with an update, some news, anything.

Gene was worried too. He knew his Bolly wasn't behind it because he knew who was...That twisted bastard lawyer Tim Price. But he couldn't reveal it. If Alex wanted to reveal it then he would back her up but he very much doubted it would come to even that.
Gene had decided that this modern notion of evidence being so important was, perhaps in this case, a good thing. But he had destroyed the one piece of evidence that would prove once and for all that she was innocent...The VHS of Tim Price's suicide message. But there was no way they would have anything on his Bolly.

Gene knew Alex was many things, a posh pain in the arse, patronising at times, amusing when drunk, sometimes irrational and quite frequently a little crazy...But above all that, she was his D.I and was certainly not a murderer. The only crime Gene knew Alex was capable of was the occasional and irritating TWOC-ing - taking without owner's consent- of his beloved Quattro.
Gene had lost one D.I already and he had no intention of losing another, especially one he felt so intensely towards.

As Gene's thoughts turned towards his feelings for Alex, his attention was dragged back to reality when the telephone finally rang. Gene's heart jumped and he answered it immediately.
"Yes?"
Everyone in CID had looked up upon hearing the phone ring.
Gene wasn't the only one desperately waiting for news.
"What!?"
Gene got to his feet.
"And you're sure?"
"Bastards!"
Gene slammed the phone back down onto the receiver with great force.
He looked out into the office as he breathed big angry breaths.
He had to tell them. They were all looking to him.
He downed the whiskey in one go to steady himself.
Gene moved to the door and exited his office, standing before his assembled troops.
"Guv?" Ray prompted with concern from where he sat.
Gene looked to all of his CID, all their eyes were on him, pleading for news of their D.I.
"They've charged her...Two counts of murder, one of attempted murder and one for possession of cocaine".
With that Gene marched from the office, his fists clenched tightly in fury and his nails digging into his palms
He didn't know where he was headed.
All Gene Hunt knew was that he had to get out of there before he damaged something.

End chapter 2