CHAPTER 8. PHOTOGRAPHS
Sally couldn't believe the questions they were throwing around, accusations really. She'd last talked to Lestrade around five, before he headed to that psychopaths house. Why weren't they investigating him! He could have easily orchestrated it all making her and Anderson look guilty.
No, she pushed the thought away, recalling the concern on the arrogant mans face. This wasn't just her job on the line, the two smug assholes had tossed the copies of Lestrade's last text messages, the life of her boss was on the line here. And she was stuck here instead of out there tracking him down. Cleary her phone showed she'd sent him a text but there was no way she could have, she was with Anderson the whole time. Something she couldn't admit to, and god help him if he admitted to it. They'd lose their jobs when this cleared innocent or not. She remembered getting halfway home after spending time in the back seat of-a blush crept up her face but she'd gone back to check her desk and found it sitting untouched. Although she hadn't remembered leaving it on her desk. Someone was setting her up.
The door opened those two idiots asking the questions went on break, leaving her with the evidence, a technique she knew well, this was supposed to show her she was optionless. That if she admits guilt they'd go easy on her. Fucking twats. She didn't get to be Srgt. for no reason; she knew how to play this game. Why weren't they questioning the freak, she'd told the two inspectors about the phone call. Leaving out the cryptic part, because something was coming up, someone on the inside was responsible. Dammit Lestrade where are you? She glanced at the photographs of the two dead PC's. She could be a hard hearted bitch when need be, but those two she knew them. Sure she'd bullied Smith but he made it easy and Howard had a way of making anyone laugh even on the worst of days. What had she said to them before she left the scene, left the two of them to collect the equipment?
"Try not to break anything Smith or it comes out of your salary."
"Have a good day Srgt!" Howard had called out waving, she'd thrown him a dark glare. "Piss off!" She heard the two men no doubt snickering about her. Did Howard have any children a wife? Smith didn't seem like the married kind, but Howard-she tried to remember if she'd heard him discussing family life. There they were in a crime scene photo, slumped over left for dead in a dark tunnel. She'd fated them to that, choosing them to stay and clean up. She could have had two more stay behind maybe strength in numbers?
The door opened, and she quickly stiffened her back, straightening her shoulders, any tears of frustration she'd pushed down Sally Donovan did not cry, she would not.
"Sergeant?" it was just another PC, what the hell did he want, she saw he was carrying a cup of steaming coffee. "Thought you could use this." He offered, she continued to glare at him, he leaned over. "I only have a few minutes before those two come back. I need to know what the last two cases DI Lestrade was working on."
"What the-why?" she narrowed her eyes and looked at the hot cup of coffee how long since she'd last eaten?
"Please its important. Did the DI say anything about photographs or pictures?" Sally realized what this was and laughed, damn him.
"So he roped you in did he. Ok, fine. You tell him to get me out of this. They are saying I have something to do with this. The bullets from the crime scene they pulled out of those two PC's match another crime three weeks go. They said the gun is conveniently missing from evidence." Clarke frowned looking at the photographs he suddenly felt sick, and he realized the DI's words, they sounded like taunts now.
"Listen idiot! The last two cases we worked were solved; they had originally been thought to be part of the Cavollari hits ordered last year except the murderers had no gang ties. Sadly the poor sods offed themselves in prison before trial. But case closed with a signed confession. They are blaming Anderson for switching or tampering with evidence stealing from the evidence lockers. They asked if Lestrade had brought any photographs from one of the crime scenes to me. I haven't seen them. He checked them out two weeks ago, but if you ask me he's been acting strange all month. I didn't ask I thought it had something to do with the soon to be ex wife. " she gave the case names and the door opened.
"Well ma'am I hope you enjoy your coffee." Clarke changed his demenor and stature, looking uninterested.
"Clarke? What the hell are you doing in here?" the young man smiled easily,
"Just bringing the Serg something hot to drink."
"Get the hell out of here rookie. We are in the middle of an interrogation."
"Yes sir." He hurried down the hall his phone now in his pocket.
"What did she say!? Word for word." Sherlock demanded as soon as the dark haired PC exited the building.
"Here I recorded it on my phone. I sent you the audio file. I have to go!"
"Where?" John called after him.
"To the hospital! I have to find Henry-"
"He's not there." Sherlock replied coolly.
"What?" the younger man looked ghostly white.
"I had him moved. For his protection. Now will you please tell me why someone would want you dead?"
"Wait. You know for sure he's safe?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Yes! Now tell me!"
"I don't know. We aren't anyone; we haven't worked any murder cases or scene clean up. We both just came up from the basement, working evidence. That's it. I don't even know DI Lestrade except I met him once a couple weeks ago, he came to me looking for two pieces of evidence."
"did you give it to him? What was it?"
"I've already told you, they were missing. Disappeared. I'd already spoken to the boss about it, but now the DI wanted to know why. He then pulled the files on both those murders and left. Henry and I got our promotion a couple days later. That's it. "
Sherlock hailed a cab he needed to think, the three got in and John remembered something the DI Dodson had said.
"You were in the military?"
"Yes sir, I was in the regular army. Nothing exciting I did my time and came home, could have reenlisted but honestly wasn't my thing. Henry was with me, said we should try applying for a job as cops."
"Wait that man-the one who tried to kill you. He knew you'd been in the army." Sherlock turned to John, one again John and his conducting of light.
"He would know because someone who is in the know informed him. Most likely your DI Dodson."
"Shit how high up does this go?" Clarke sat back watching the streets fly by.
Once at Baker Street Sherlock listened to Sally's quick statement, John had made tea and fallen asleep in his chair, that PC as well, once he received a call from his friend that he'd been escorted home by two very large security looking officers. Saying he is to stay put in the flat until further notice. He was going mad with boredom. Clarke had laughed and decided to see this to the end, he'd fill Henry in later, he'd be sad he missed out on the action. Still, Clarke thought back to the pictures of those two PC's, someone needed to be brought in for that, no one deserves to die like that, discarded, he'd only meant to rest his eyes but somehow fell into a light sleep.
Sherlock suddenly sprang to his feet, around 3 am, "THAT'S IT!" John and Clarke both sprang to their feet ready for a fight, Sherlock hardly acknowledged them, except Clarke caught sight of the gun that Doctor Watson tucked into the back of his waist band. He had a question then for the quiet seemingly ordinary Doctor, looking man up and down, but Sherlock was already grabbing his coat and heading for the door. "OH LESTRADE YOU ARE FAR MORE CLEVER THAN I GIVE YOU CREDIT FOR!"
"Sherlock? Where?"
"John hurry, we have to go to the morgue."
"God-is he?" Clarke pailed trying to keep from falling down the stairs behind the shorter blond man.
"Not yet, no. What we need will be there. Oh how stupid can I be, he told us and I thought he was being sentimental! How could I not see it!"
"What Sherlock what!?" John jumped into the cab and Sherlock pulled his phone out. "MOLLY!" he cried out exasperated as if John should understand as well. Clarke was intelligent enough not to speak, and John tried to rack his own sleep starved brain.
"The message!" He shook his own head, running a hand through his hair.
"Yes!" Sherlock snapped.
Molly looked up from the body on the table, "Oh, hello." She greeted nervously, Clarke looked green now John noted as he glanced at the figures covered by sheets just behind the small women in the lab coat.
"Here you go." She handed Sherlock the manila envelope. "DI Lestrade came in with these the other day, sort of left them by accident. I meant to call him but it just escaped my mind. He wanted to ask me something about the forensics report, I'd been the one to do the autopsy so I answered best of my ability. Both cases the report was correct He showed me the photographs and I told him they were both consistent with the injuries."
"Did he say anything else Molly think anything any little thing?" she took a step back, blushing under Sherlock's sudden grip on her shoulders.
"I-I-I don't think so." She stammered.
"You're sure?" Sherlock's gray eyes locked with hers and she nodded turning a bright shade of red. When he stepped away he took the envelope spreading the pictures out, what-what was he asking. Come on, Greg what did you need to know."
"Oh, wait he did say something right before he got a phone call. I thought it was odd that's why I remember it. I 'm not one to listen in on private phone calls but-" Sherlock took a step towards her and John intercepted, smiling easily.
"Molly Detective Inspector Lestrade has been abducted."
"What?" she now lost all color.
"By some fairly bad men, they already killed before and we think it has to do with what Lestrade was looking over. So please tell us anything you remember." She nodded.
"He was standing with the folder in his hands, his phone rang, I heard him say something like "Sir, you may think its fruitless but I've already informed you that something was off-yes. Yes I just want to tie up loose ends. I have my suspicions-well the tire tracks for one." That's all I remember Sherlock's eyes fell on the photos both of them.
He could see it, tire tracks, tire tracks, Lestrade had seen it, by the bodies, matching tread but no one thought to investigate due to the fact they had their confession. Sherlock knew the tread he'd seen it before in the tunnel even in the dim light the distinctive marks.
He made a quick text to Mycroft, "Information on abandoned properties owned by CAVOLLARI mafia within 20miles of Old Square Park."
Sherlock ignored Molly's questions over Lestrade's safety, she'd grown quiet fond of him, but when ever she wanted to ask him to coffee nerves got the best of her and she would duct out on some imagined call, only slap herself later for being such a coward. But now, now it may be to late, and this distressed her greatly, thinking of such a good man murdered, executed cast off like trash.
"No worries Molly, we'll bring him back. Or at the very least you will have the chance to autopsy the ones responsible." Sherlock hollered as he left the metal doors of the morgue.