8.
Following DS Hawthorne into the interview room Peter sat down at the table, a Styrofoam cup clasped tightly in his hands as he took a sip of the luke-warm coffee.
"I'm ready to confess," Peter announced getting straight to the point.
Hawthorne sat down, resting her hands on the table in front of her. "Mr Barlow before we go any further I'd like to make you aware that making a false statement to the police is a criminal offence."
"It's not false," Peter insisted.
"Ok," Hawthorne breathed. "Well why don't we start at the beginning; if you'd like to talk us through the night Tina McIntyre was attacked."
Leaning back in his chair Peter nodded. "Tina wanted me to go away with her, she had it all planned, we were going to go to Portsmouth and start fresh down there. I agreed. I didn't really want to go but I just needed her to stop making demands so I said yes, then the day before we were supposed to go Carla had a scare with the baby, she was getting these pains and she didn't tell me, not until it got so bad that she had to go to the hospital and … well that put everything in perspective, it made me realise how much I didn't want to lose her. Carla, Simon and the baby that was what I wanted."
"But I didn't know how to tell Tina," Peter continued. "It turns out that I didn't have to because Tina walked in just as Carla was announcing her pregnancy, I followed her and we argued, she scratched me, she shouted, I told her that it was over, she shouted some more and I left. When I got back to the pub I knew it was only a matter of time before she told Carla everything so I told her myself. She was devastated … it destroyed her … and I'll never be able to make that right but …"
Peter trailed off, trying to find the right words. "I'll never be able to change the past. But I can make things right now. The truth can make things right."
"What happened after you confessed to Carla?" Hawthorne asked, prompting him to continue.
"Carla stormed out, she said she was going to confront Tina so I followed her, only when I got to the flat she wasn't there, Tina was alone. She was sat on the floor, crying and when she saw me she went mad, she was just shouting and shouting and I just wanted to get out of there and find the nearest pub but Tina was blocking the door so I went out onto the roof, I was going to have a fag and give her a chance to calm down but … she followed me," Peter lied making up a series of events that he hoped fit what had really happened.
Looking down at the table Peter wished he had a cigarette in his hand now, something to calm his nerves. "She just kept shouting and screaming at me about how I had lost everything and how pleased she was because I deserves it after what I had done to her. And she's right I did deserve it … but … she just wouldn't let it rest, she kept coming at me, digging and digging and I lost my temper, I picked up the nearest thing and I threw it. I wasn't aiming for her and she moved backwards … I think my anger scared her and then she was falling, I tried to stop her but … she fell."
"And after Miss McIntyre fell what happened then?" Hawthorne asked.
"She wasn't moving," Peter whispered. "So I panicked, I went into the flat and I tried to remove all traces that I was ever there, I grabbed a few things and messed up the flat to make it look like there was an intruder," Peter lied, not realising how close he was to the truth.
Hawthorne eyed him suspiciously. "What did you do when you left the flat?"
"Tina still wasn't moving so I walked away, I just left her there lying in the street," Peter cried his guilt at the situation eating away at him.
Hawthorne looked over at the broken man. "So you're saying that Miss McIntyre fell and that's how you killed her?"
"I didn't mean to kill her," Peter whispered. "It was an accident."
"Mr Barlow as I already warned you making a false confession can result in a prison sentence," Hawthorne once again informed him.
Peter nodded. "I know. But it's my fault, I'm the reason Tina is dead."
"Mr Barlow, Miss McIntyre was not killed by the fall, she was in fact killed by being struck around the head with a heavy object," Hawthorne said.
Sitting up straight Peter felt like he couldn't breath. "That was me too, when I er … when I threw the thing that I threw it must have hit her … I didn't think it did but …"
"Forensic evidence shows that Miss McIntyre was hit around the head with a solid object when she was already down on the ground, so Mr Barlow your story is not corroborated by the evidence because that's all it is; a story," Hawthorne declared, making it obvious she didn't believe his version of events.
"I hit her," Peter insisted. "I know I said I didn't but I did, when I got downstairs she was still alive, she kept threatening me, saying that she was going to tell everyone how I pushed her and that I would never get to see my baby or Simon or Carla ever again so I flipped, I picked up the nearest heavy thing and I hit her," he said, eerily echoing what actually had happened that fateful night only with a different person wearing the murderer's shoes.
Hawthorne's patience was beginning to wear thin, she was in the middle of a murder investigation and the last thing she needed was people wasting her time. "And what did you do with the murder weapon after you left?"
"I tossed it in the canal," Peter shrugged.
"Mr Barlow this is a murder investigation and if you continue with this farce I will have you arrested," Hawthorne warned him.
Peter sat forward in his chair. "It's my fault. I should be arrested, Tina's dead and it's all my fault, I'm the reason she's dead, I killed her."
"I understand that you may feel responsible for what happened to Miss McIntyre but you and I both know you didn't kill her, you may be guilty of a few things Mr Barlow but murder is not one of them," Hawthorne said, closing the folder in front of her.
"I need to pay, I should be the one going to prison, I'm the reason this all happened," Peter cried.
Hawthorne let the distraught man ramble for a few moments before speaking. "Mr Barlow-"
"She's innocent," Peter sobbed. "You have to leave her alone, you can't send her down for this I did it, what happened to Tina that night is all on me … Carla … she can't go to prison … she's having our baby and she … it's my fault … I'm the reason behind all of this … you have to arrest me."
"Mr Barlow I can't discuss an ongoing investigation with you," Hawthorne told him.
"But-"
Holding up her hand she silenced him. "Mr Barlow, I understand what you are trying to do here but it's not going to work, the evidence does not support your story, so I suggest you go home, get some sleep and never again try to make a false allegation or I will have no choice but to arrest you."
"I want you to arrest me," Peter insisted.
"I will not be arresting you for murder, I will be arresting you for making a false statement and interfering with a police investigation," Hawthorne said, making it clear that despite his desperation she wasn't buying his claims.
Burying his head in his hands Peter took a long, deep breath. "I need to make things right."
"This isn't the way," Hawthorne replied.
"I-"
"Go home Mr Barlow," Hawthorne instructed, standing up and heading towards the door making it clear that the conversation was over.
Walking out of the police station Peter felt deflated. "I just wanted to make things right," he whispered to himself as he buried his hands in his pocket.
Sitting down on the wall he realised that when he had left that morning he hadn't taken anything with him; no wallet, no keys, or money, leaving him with no option but to walk back home.
When he had headed for the police station that morning the journey had seemed short, because he'd had a plan, he was going there with the intention of making things right, of protecting Carla, of making sure that his daughter wasn't born in prison, of atoning for his sins.
But now as he made his way home the journey seemed insurmountable, he'd failed once again, the police had practically laughed him out of the station, Carla was still the main suspect in Tina's murder and there was every chance his daughter could still be born in prison. His feet were heavy and his heart pounding as he couldn't help but fear that he had just made things a hundred times worse. That his best intentions just weren't good enough.
- o -
Sitting down outside the flat Peter leaned heavily against the wall, he had promised Carla that he would stay away but he just couldn't, he needed to see her, he needed her to know that he had tried to make things right, that he was willing to sacrifice his own freedom so that her and their daughter could be safe.
Taking a deep breath he rung the bell, waiting a few moments he played with the keys in his hand, realising how easy it would be to let himself in but knowing that was a line that he couldn't cross, not when there was already so many trust issues between them.
"Hello," Carla's tired voice filtered through the static.
"It's me," Peter declared.
Carla was silent for a minute before speaking again. "Peter. Not now."
"I know I promised I'd stay away," Peter remembered. "But I really need to talk to you, to see you … Please Carla just 5 minutes and then I'll go … I just-"
His words were cut off by the monotone buzzing of the electric lock, letting him know that Carla had given him permission to enter.
Walking up the stairs he was greeted by the open door, stepping in he almost fell over a pile of boxes and black bags, looking around he found Carla in the kitchen, tangling a tea bag into a cup of hot water.
"You look tired," Peter observed.
"You came here to say something, so just say it and leave," Carla instructed as she dropped the tea bag onto the side before walking over to the sofa, sitting down she cradled her fingers around the mug.
Peter moved around and sat at the table. "I just came from the police station."
"They arrest you too?" Carla asked.
"No," Peter breathed. "I went to confess to murdering Tina."
Of all the things Carla had been expecting him to say that had not been one of them. "What? You … you said … you promised … that you didn't … that …"
"I didn't kill her," Peter reassured her. "But I feel like I did, just like I feel like it's my fault you got sick and I wanted to pay … I wanted them to make me pay and leave you alone … I wanted them to leave you alone."
Carla looked up, her eyes bright with a mixture of pity, anger, fear and disappointment. "You think I did it don't you?"
"That's not what I said," Peter insisted.
"You didn't have to," Carla whispered.
Peter watched as she took a sip of her tea. "That's not true Carla."
"You confessed to something you didn't do because you think I did it," Carla summarised.
"No. Yes. I don't know. Carla if you did I wouldn't blame you and I know that if you did it's still my fault and I should pay for that if in a moment of madness-"
Putting her mug down Carla stood up, silently she walked over and opened the door, not stopping to look at Peter. "You need to leave. Now."
"Carla-"
"You're 5 minutes is up," Carla observed, her voice flat and void of emotion.
Shaking his head Peter refused to move. "No. Carla-"
"You have no right to sit there and accuse me of murdering your mistress. I can't deal with this Peter … not now … how are we supposed to make this work, to raise our daughter together if you actually believe that I am capable of such a horrible crime," Carla ranted, her anger rising with every word.
"I love you Carla," Peter declared.
Carla looked down at the floor. "You don't know how to love."
"That's not true," Peter argued.
"You just accused me of murder," Carla hissed, her hands balled up against her side.
Peter stood up, taking a step towards her. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
"What did you think would happen Peter? That you would come here, accuse me of murdering your little bit on the side, vow to take the blame for me and it would make everything ok? That I would be so grateful that you were willing to go to prison for a crime that I did not commit that all would be forgiven and I would fall into your arms? Is that how you saw this playing out?" Carla asked, her knuckles growing white as she tried to contain her anger.
"I don't know what I expected," Peter admitted.
Carla leaned her head against the wall. "I didn't do it Peter. I didn't kill Tina."
"I believe you," Peter said, desperately trying to undo what had already been done.
"No you don't," Carla sighed.
"I-"
Carla shook her head. "I know you had no respect for our marriage vowels, that the promises we made to each other didn't mean anything but I thought you knew me Peter, more than anyone else in my life I thought you knew me … sometimes I used to think you even knew me better than I knew myself but you don't know me at all do you?"
"That's not true," Peter breathed, echoing his earlier sentiment.
"That hurts Peter, probably more than anything else you've done to me that hurts because it doesn't just make our marriage a lie but it makes everything we ever had mean nothing, just the fact that you even considered my guilt for a second … I can't … I just …"
"Carla-"
Carla closed her eyes. "I need you to leave."
"I'm not leaving things like this," Peter insisted.
Carla looked up at him, her eyes dull and broken. "Peter. Please … I can't look at you right now. Just being here in the same room as you is taking more strength than I have … I can't breathe with you here … I can't … Peter you need to leave. I need you to leave."
"Ok," Peter agreed.
Once Peter was gone her whole body seemed to deflate, her knees buckling under her as she fell to the floor, loud sobs wracking her body as she tried to take deep breaths, to calm her nerves and pick herself up but this time she couldn't find the strength. Every time she thought she had been hit with the worse something else happened, knocking her further and further down.
Each trauma being the bad before the worse, the calm before the storm never once reaching rock bottom until now, as she sat alone, on the floor of her flat and cried herself to sleep, both emotionally and physically exhausted from the repeated blows of the last month.