7.
The walls seemed to be closing in on Carla her eyes darted around, looking for an escape route, instead all she saw was 4 walls and a door that seemed miles away right now. The detectives had left her to wait, refusing to start the interview until her solicitor turned up.
They had however been decent enough to give her a cup of tea, that now sat cold and abandoned on the table in front of her.
Leaning her head on the table she closed her eyes, trying to block out everything else around her and concentrate on nothing but the soft fluttering in her stomach.
"I'm going to get us out of the mess, I promise," she reassured her unborn child, dropping a hand to her stomach.
Pushing the door open DS Hawthorne stepped into the room with DC Vanner close behind. "Your solicitor just called, she'll be here in a few minutes."
"And what do you suppose we all do till then?" Carla asked, lifting her head up from the table. "Hold hands and sing campfire songs?"
"This isn't a joke Mrs Barlow," DS Hawthorne warned.
Carla lifted her eyes towards the detective. "Do you see me laughing?"
"Would you like a fresh cup of tea?" Vanner asked.
"Oh I get it," Carla began. "You're the good cop and she's the bad cop, her job is to bully me into confessing to something I didn't do whilst you sit there and feed me tea and biscuits."
DS Hawthorne sat down. "This is a murder investigation Mrs Barlow."
"Please," Carla started. "Call me Carla, Barlow is just yet another reminder of my husband's infidelity."
"Ok," Hawthorne agreed. "Carla. Need I keep reminding you how serious this is?"
Carla shook her head. "Oh no Love, I'm well aware how serious this is, being cautioned and bundled out of my flat whilst I was trying to enjoy a relaxing evening watching Despicable Me 2 with my stepson delivered that message loud and clear."
"Well then perhaps now might be a good time to drop the sarcasm," Hawthorne requested.
"Yes. Sir," Carla mock saluted. "Sorry, it's a defence mechanism," she admitted.
The 2 women were interrupted as Pauline Mansell stepped into the room, not a hair out of place or wrinkle to be seen as she sat down next to Carla. "I hope you haven't been interviewing my client without me?"
"We were just getting to know each other, weren't we Carla?" Hawthorne offered.
Carla nodded, her eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah, we're old pals now," she retorted.
"Carla please, let me do the talking," Pauline suggested.
Carla turned to face her lawyer. "I have nothing to hide."
"I know," Pauline assured her. "But this isn't just the same as before, you're not here under free will this time, you've been cautioned."
"I was there," Carla sighed tiredly.
Pauline turned to address the detectives. "Now we're all here, please, do tell what evidence you think it is you have that was sufficient enough for you to drag my pregnant client down here."
"Carla, you stated in your previous interviews that Tina McIntyre was already on the ground when you arrived on the balcony, did you at any time go down to see if she was ok?" Hawthorne asked.
Carla shook her head. "No. As I have already told you multiple times I saw Tina on the ground, I screamed, Leanne and Kal arrived on the scene and checked her for a pulse and all that … I was too shocked to do anything … and then the ambulance and your crew arrived and … well you know the rest."
"So you're saying that at no point did you have contact with her body?" Hawthorne queried, continuing her line of questioning.
"No," Carla insisted.
Pulling a large A4 picture out of the folder she laid it down so Carla could see it. "Then how do you explain this?"
"It's my top," Carla frowned.
"Right," Hawthorne agreed. Pulling out another photo of the same top only magnified to show the collar Hawthorne pointed to a highlighted area. "And our labs have just confirmed that this is Miss McIntyre's blood."
Picking up the picture Carla studied it, genuinely stunned into silence as a million scenarios ran through her head, trying to figure out how Tina's blood could have gotten on her clothes, but she had no explanation for it, she hadn't touched Tina after finding her, or even gone within touching distance of her.
"I don't know," Carla admitted. "You're the detectives. You figure it out."
"Oh we already have, you see Mrs Barlow," Hawthorne said, purposefully using her married name. "I think that Tina's blood made it's way onto her clothes when you grabbed hold of the closest, solid object and you hit her."
Carla shook her head. "That didn't happen."
"Then how do you explain her blood being on your clothes?" Hawthorne asked, once again drawing Carla's attention to the picture.
Carla looked towards Pauline for guidance who instructed her that it was up to her whether or not she chose to answer. "I wish I could explain it," Carla admitted. "But I honestly have no idea how it got there."
"You must see how things look for you Mrs Barlow," Hawthorne pointed out. "You find out your husband is having an affair with the babysitter, you storm out into the pub declaring for everyone to hear that you're going to kill said baby sitter, in a rage you carry on over to her flat where you're found just a short while later looking down at her motionless body, with her blood on your clothes despite the fact you claim not have gone anywhere near her," she concluded, confronting Carla with the growing evidence against her.
Carla looked down at the picture. "You're right. It doesn't look good. But I didn't kill her."
"And all we have to back up that claim is your word," Hawthorne said. "Where as we have a file full of forensic and witness statements that lead us to the conclusion that you did in fact kill Tina McIntyre."
Pauline needed to know where this was heading. "Are you planning on formally charging my client."
"Not today. No," Hawthorne admitted.
"Right then, I suggest you release her, she's 5 months pregnant and has spent the last 2 weeks in hospital seriously ill, she needs rest," Pauline insisted.
Hawthorne looked over towards Carla. "Mrs Barlow you are free to leave, but you will however remain under caution as an official suspect and as a suspect and terms if your release you are requested to surrender your passport."
"Fine," Carla agreed, not seeing any point in arguing.
Following her solicitor outside Carla filled in the paperwork that made her officially a suspect in the murder of Tina McIntyre a crime for which she knew she was innocent and had to hope justice would prevail.
Stepping outside she took a long, deep inhale of fresh air. "It's good to be outside."
Although it had only been 7 hours since her arrest Carla felt like she had been within the 4 walls of the police station for days, her back ached, her head pounded and her eyes felt like they were coated with sandpaper.
"Carla," Pauline began.
"I didn't kill her," Carla insisted, pre-empting her solicitor's question.
Pauline faced her client. "I wasn't going to ask you that. I was however going to ask if you have any idea how the victims blood might have got onto your clothes? I know you told the police you had no idea but-"
"I was telling the truth," Carla sighed, genuinely stumped.
"Are you sure?" Pauline asked, although she believed her client's innocence she couldn't help but suspect that she was hiding something from her.
Carla nodded, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. "If I had any idea don't you think I would have said? I don't want to go down for a murder I didn't commit any more than you want to lose a case."
"Well if you think of anything," Pauline said watching as Carla walked over to the wall and sat down. "You have my number."
Carla rested her head in her hands. "I'll be sure to call," she mumbled.
"Can I give you a lift home?" Pauline offered.
Carla shook her head, slowly as if each movement hurt. "Thank you. But no, Rob should be here any minute now."
"Ok," Pauline smiled, not wanting to leave her obviously distressed client alone but sensing that company was the last thing Carla wanted right now.
Lifting her head up Carla tried to clear the fuzziness from her memory, but when she remembered back to the night it was all distorted, as if a part of her was almost stopping her from remembering clearly because if she did then she would become consumed by the pain.
One thing she did know for certain though was she didn't kill Tina, as hurt and angry as she might have been she did not take the young girls life, now all she needed to do was wait for the police to realise that.
"Carla," Rob called out, running up the stairs taking them 3 at a time.
Standing up Carla allowed herself to be enveloped by her brother, grateful for some familiarity. "It's such a mess."
"What happened?" Rob asked, taking her shaking hand in his and leading her to the car.
"They think I did it Rob, they really think I killed Tina," Carla cried, finally letting her guard down.
Rob gripped on tightly to the steering wheel as frustration and guilt raged within him. "They can't just arrest you without any proof."
"They have proof," Carla whispered, tiredly leaning her head back against the seat. "I don't know how … God I wish I did but somehow they found Tina's blood on the clothes I was wearing, and I said I didn't go anywhere near her … because I didn't … so it looks like I'm lying and I can't prove otherwise because I have no idea how it got there."
As they stopped at a red light Rob could almost picture the scenes like it was a movie playing in his mind.
Walking out to the street cloaked in blue lights and sirens.
The neighbours stood watching, speculating.
Tina's body being wheeled into the ambulance.
All eyes on Carla as the police questioned her.
His realisation that it had all been for nothing because Carla already knew about the affair.
Walking over to Carla, wrapping his arms around her as he desperately tried to protect her from what was happening even though he knew it was too late.
Tina's blood on his clothes, Tina's blood rubbing off of his clothes onto Carla as he held her tightly and promised her that everything would be ok.
A promise that he was still determined to keep even though he knew deep down that things would never be ok again. "Carla, I'm so sorry."
"This isn't your fault," Carla breathed, unaware of her baby brother's real involvement in her current situation.
Rob put his foot down as the light turned green. "I should have protected you better."
"You weren't to know what was going to happen," Carla reassured him.
"I knew he was no good for you," Rob growled, his eyes clouding over with rage just like they always did whenever his thoughts turned to his sister's no-good husband.
Closing her eyes Carla didn't have the energy to deal with Rob's anger, not when it was taking every bit of strength she had to put one foot in front of the other. "Please Rob, I can't deal with this right now … I just … I just want to go home, take a shower and sleep."
"I can stay, keep you company," Rob offered.
Carla shook her head. "I just need to be alone right now."
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Ron argued.
Reaching out Carla rested her hand on his. "Look … I've had enough of people telling me what I can and can't do, right now I just need to be alone. I need to take control of my life."
"Ok," Rob agreed as he pulled up outside the flat, watching as Carla slowly made her way inside, concerned about what effects this recent chain of events was having on her emotional and physical health. Because if anything happened to his sister or his unborn niece then he really would never be able to forgive himself.
- o -
The street was cloaked in the darkness of morning as Carla stood by the window, watching as the milkman made his way from house to house. Now, with the rest of the world still sleeping the street was almost peaceful, void of drama, lies, hurt, betrayal and the finger of suspicion.
She knew it wouldn't last, that when people started to wake up so would the gossip, there would be no stopping the speculation as it spread from door to door like a wildfire, each person with their own theory, and each theory condemning her to a life behind bars.
"I won't let you enter the world in prison," Carla vowed, resting her hand on her stomach, unaware that just a few minutes away Peter stood in the garden of number 1, his hands clutched tightly around a mug of coffee as he watched the sun begin to make it's presence known.
He'd heard all of the gossip, how Carla had been arrested in front of Simon, held at the police station for hours before being released on bail but after that the gossip went cold, he had no idea how she was.
Was she was eating?
Was she getting enough sleep?
Was she remembering to take her antibiotics?
His concern for his wife and unborn child was life a vice grip that rendered him helpless, when his family needed him most he couldn't help them, he couldn't hold his wife in his arms and promise her it was going to be ok, he couldn't rest his hand on the swell of his unborn daughter and vow to never let anyone hurt her.
Instead he was stuck in a police cell of his own creating, locked away by his own infidelity from being with the people he loved more than life itself.
"I won't let her go down for this," Peter whispered, needing to say the words out loud.
From her place on the doorstep Eccles ears pricked up, as if the dog sensed that Peter needed someone to listen.
"I've already let them all down," Peter cried. "Simon, Carla … I won't let my little girl be born in prison," he vowed and with those words he made a decision.
Putting the cup in the sink he pulled on his jacket, determinedly he slammed the front door behind him as he headed out, walking towards the sunrise as he carried on like a man possessed until he finally reached his destination.
He'd already destroyed Carla's life once he wasn't about to let it happen again, he would make things right for her, no matter what it took.
Walking up to the desk he slammed his hand down. "I'm here to make a statement, I'm ready to confess. I did it. I killed Tina McIntyre."