Chapter 4
"I'm not sure that's entirely true." Skorpa grinned.
I laughed. "I should thank you. Again. What is wrong with that guy?"
"Apparently, he finds you irresistible. Hopefully, he'll leave you alone from now on." He looked out of the window as Sihtric pulled up outside my building. "Is this where you live?"
"Yes."
He got out, then held the door for me. "Wait there," he told Sihtric, and accompanied me to the outer door of the building.
Now, my heart began to pound. He'd asked Sihtric to wait, so I doubted he expected to be invited in, but I felt like I ought to do so anyway. He hadn't had to help the strange girl who'd thrown herself at him and proceeded to turn him and his friends into bodyguards for the rest of their night out, although he had looked like he was enjoying himself a bit too much when he headbutted Haeston.
"Do you want to, um, come in for a coffee?"
He smiled and stepped closer, backing me up against the wall. "You don't really want to be inviting me in."
"Well, I wouldn't have if I didn't want to—"
"Skade. I got out of prison two days ago. If we're alone up there, it's not gonna be coffee I'm after. Is that what you want?"
"I—" I struggled to breathe as I met his eyes. They were grey-blue but dark like the sea in a storm. He wasn't the type of guy I would normally go for, forgetting about his history. He looked to be at least fifteen years older than me, and his face was lined and scarred. But there was something that drew me; something that had crept up on me while I stood in front of him during the gig, safe and protected.
He smiled. "Give me your phone." I pulled it out of my pocket without a word, unlocked it, and handed it to him. He opened up the contacts and added a new one, before saving it and giving me the phone back. "Now you have my number. If you want to see me, or if that pig Haeston bothers you again—although I doubt he will—you can call me."
"Thank you."
"I'd better go. That taxi driver friend of yours will have his meter running."
"Okay. See you."
"I hope so." He got back into the taxi.
I gave Sihtric a quick wave, then let myself into the building. Before I was halfway up the stairs, my phone rang and I answered it as I unlocked the door.
"Hi, Brida."
"Are you okay? What happened?"
"Nothing. I'm fine. Skorpa just brought me home, that's all."
"Is he there?"
"No, he left. Did Haeston cause any more trouble?"
"No. Skorpa's two thugs marched him off down the street like they were arresting him. He was yelling and swearing and bleeding all over the place. They went down this alley and a minute later it went quiet. I don't know what they did to him, but we didn't see them again. We just got in the taxi and left. Do you want to come over to ours?" Brida and Aethelflaed shared a house.
"No, I'm fine, but thanks."
"Talk tomorrow, then."
I went to bed a few minutes later, but I didn't fall asleep for a while. I went over the events of the evening in my head, and I thought about Skorpa. Considering his reputation, he had been surprisingly courteous—even refused to come in rather than put me in a position I might not want to be in. I had his number in my phone and although calling him would probably be a bad idea, I felt a small flutter of excitement as I imagined doing so.
Eventually, I slept, but not well. I woke with my heart pounding and my body damp with sweat, after a horrible dream where Haeston grabbed me outside the Cauldron, but Skorpa wasn't there. It was just after five in the morning, but I got up, showered, and made coffee. Then I switched on my TV to watch the news.
"—A broken nose, several broken ribs and a punctured lung, as well as multiple cuts and bruises. Mr Charles is currently in the intensive care unit at the General Hospital." A picture of Haeston flashed up on the screen—clearly one taken some time ago.
"Mr Charles, although in great pain, has managed to give a short statement, naming Sven Hansen as his attacker. Hansen was released from prison only three days ago, after serving fourteen months for assault, and is now in custody—" Another picture came up on screen of Skorpa. There was no mention of Ragnar and Erik.
"Oh shit!" Skorpa would be back in prison in no time if he was found guilty. So his real name was Sven? Of course. He was Danish. I'd heard that before when his previous arrest had been on the news.
I finished my coffee and switched on my laptop to check my work emails. I might as well get something done, even though it was a Saturday. Once I got involved in completing a job for a client, the time slipped away and when I stopped for a break to get some breakfast, it was after nine. When my doorbell rang, I answered the intercom without hesitation. At least it couldn't be Haeston.
"Good morning, is this Kaitlyn Harrington?" a voice asked.
"Yes?"
"This is Sergeant Mike Thomson and PC Jennifer Jones. We'd like to ask you a few questions. May we come in?"
"Sure." I pressed the door release. Skorpa must have given them my name. But how could he have? I hadn't told him my real name.
When the two officers came in, I invited them to sit on my sofa. I sat on the chair at my computer desk.
"What can I do for you?" I asked.
"Do you know Mr Haeston Charles?"
"Yes." I made a face. "He's an animal. Why are you asking me about him?" Something told me play dumb for the moment.
"You haven't seen the news this morning?"
"No, I had a job to do. I started work at five. What's happened?"
"Mr Charles is in hospital with some serious injuries after a beating yesterday evening near the Cauldron nightclub."
"And you think I did it?" I raised my eyebrows. "Do you think if I could look after myself, I would have bothered calling you for help? When clearly you don't care if women are being harassed and stalked? I spent nearly two weeks afraid to leave my own home and your Sergeant Catherine Maitland whom I spoke to on the phone, said it wasn't serious enough and that he had to actually turn up at my home or hurt me before you'd do anything, or words to that effect."
The officers glanced at each other in surprise. "We don't know anything of this," the sergeant said.
"Well, maybe you should ask Sergeant Maitland about it. She probably didn't bother to log it, since apparently a fellow woman's welfare isn't important enough to waste her time on," I snapped.
"We'll certainly look into that, Miss Harrington," the young PC said, looking shocked and apologetic. She wrote something in her notebook.
"Let's talk about yesterday now," the sergeant said. "We have the suspect, Sven Hansen, also known as Skorpa, in custody."
I frowned. "It wasn't him."
"Why do you say that?"
"It couldn't have been. He was with me."
"May I ask if Hansen is well-known to you? Perhaps as a… partner?"
"No, I just met him yesterday. I didn't even know his name was Sven until you said it. Why?"
"Oh!" The sergeant seemed surprised.
"We thought perhaps if you were in a relationship, you'd be certain to give him an alibi," the PC explained.
"Like I said, I met him yesterday. He doesn't know my real name either. I go by Skade. How did you find me, by the way?"
"When we interviewed Hansen, he mentioned the name Skade and described your appearance. We spoke to the managers of the Cauldron nightclub and one of them knew you."
I nodded. "James, right? I've been going there for years. I had to have ID up until being twenty-two because I looked too young."
"That's right, he said so. Back to last night. Perhaps you could describe the events, starting with you meeting Hansen."
"I should start before that with me arriving at the Cauldron. I'd had a message from Haeston earlier in the week telling me to meet him at the Red Bar at seven. I had no intention of going. Like I said, he'd been harassing me—sending me dirty pictures and lewd comments; making up fake Facebook accounts to contact me when I blocked him, and stuff like that. A friend of mine had tickets to see the band at the Cauldron, so I met them there just before eight o'clock. I took a taxi from here to the club. It's only a mile, but I was scared to walk in case Haeston was out there."
The two police nodded. The PC scribbled more notes. I continued. "I know the taxi driver a little bit. His name's Sihtric. He's a friend of the guy who bought the tickets, who's dating one of my best friends. We all went into the club—"
"Who is 'we'?" the sergeant asked.
"Me, Uhtred Thomson, Gisela Briggs, Aethelflaed Andrews, and Brida O'Brian. Brida and me went to get places near the stage while the others got drinks and went to the ladies. The crowd surrounded us and I got separated from my friends. Then suddenly Haeston appeared behind me. He started grabbing at me and being a pest. He's disgusting. I couldn't get away because there were too many people around us and I couldn't see my friends anymore."
"Go on," the sergeant prompted.
"There were some guys the other side of me and I saw Skorpa—Sven—nearby."
"How did you know who he was?"
"Everyone around here knows who he is. I'd seen him on the news last year when he got arrested. He has a reputation for being quite scary. I thought maybe I could get him to help me."
The sergeant frowned. "So you asked for help from someone you find, to quote, quite scary?"
"I thought it was worth the risk. I was more scared of Haeston. He made it clear he wasn't going to leave me alone. Like I said, I'd been scared to leave my home in case I ran into him. So, I asked Skorpa if I could stand with him and when I said why, he agreed."
"Then what happened?"
"Nothing much. We watched the support band. I wanted to go to the toilet and Skorpa walked to the door of the ladies and stood outside so I didn't have to worry about running into Haeston again. Haeston appeared as I came out and Skorpa told him to leave me alone."
"Was there any physical contact at this point?"
"No. Haeston just shouted at us. Then we went back into the crowd to watch the main band. When the show finished I said I had to meet up with my friends and leave. Skorpa followed me. As we left the club, Haeston appeared. He was drunk and staggering around. He tried grabbing me again. Skorpa pushed him off—"
"Only pushed him?"
"Well, he might have tapped him on the nose. Haeston staggered back but other than being drunk, he was all right, and shouting. Then Skorpa put me in a taxi and—"
"You left alone?"
"No. Skorpa got in the car, too. The driver was Sihtric again. He brought us here and Skorpa got out to talk to me for a few minutes and make sure I got inside safely. Then he got back in the taxi."
"What time was this?"
"About midnight."
"Would this taxi driver confirm he drove you both here? Would he remember you?"
"I'm certain of it, because when he saw Skorpa in the rear-view mirror he looked a bit nervous. Because, you know, of Skorpa's reputation. So, I said something like, 'Relax, Sihtric, Skorpa doesn't bite."
The PC continued scribbling rapidly, filling one page of notes after another.
"Do you know this Sihtric's last name? We'll need to speak to him."
"Johnson. He works for Winchester Fastcars."
"Right." The PC nodded and wrote this down.
"Thank you, Miss Harrington. You've been very helpful," the sergeant said.
"No problem."
"You may be required to give a statement at the station. Would you be willing to do that if needed?"
"Yes. Here's my number." I gave him one of my business cards, then showed them out. I hoped they believed what I said, but I wouldn't know until either there was more on the news, or Skorpa contacted me.
