As the police rummaged through my apartment, I could hear every footstep and almost make out their conversations. The walls seemed to be very thin. And then I couldn’t help but think about those nights when Darren was probably sat on the sofa whilst Carmen and I…well, whilst we did what loving couples do on their sofas and their dining tables. It put a whole new meaning to his leering looks.

  A couple of hours had gone by as I waited for the police to be done. I’d turned the TV off earlier, just in case they tried to peek through the balcony doors - didn’t want them to think anyone was home. I’d spent some of the two hours on the sofa, some of it pacing around. I’d moved Darren and Michelle’s bodies closer to the kitchen and used some towels on the blood, when it had begun to seep towards the door. I’d been as quiet as I could, of course. There had been a couple of knocks at the door and those times, I’d stayed very still. They seemed to have just been checking to talk to the neighbours. It didn’t seem like they knew what had happened on this side.

  Having been in my birthday suit for most of that time, in the end, I’d decided it would be better to have some clothes on, so I’d gone to Darren’s room and found some jogging bottoms, a t-shirt and a hoodie to wear. I’d hoped they were washed but I didn’t think too much about it. At the end of the day, I needed to be ready to move as soon as I could. As I sat down on the sofa, I wondered how long the police needed, to get through everything.

  “…a Delroy Campbell…” I heard someone say on my balcony. Darren’s patio door was still open. I sidled close to it, whilst making sure I was out of view so I could hear better.

  “…he’d heard what he thought was fighting and then, what he believed, were gunshots.”

  “Gunshots?”

  “That’s what he says.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Er…he said…he came to check with the occupants when he heard the noises and the gentleman – we assume Mr Clarke – said everything was fine.” It sounded like he was reading from something. “Mr Campbell then asked to talk to his girlfriend, at which point Mr Clarke let him in. He saw a Chinese girl on the sofa and asked how she was. After looking at Mr Clarke, she responded she was fine. It looked like she was under duress. Mr Campbell called the police as soon as he returned to his flat.

  “Here’s the odd thing though. After calling the police, he heard similar noises on another three occasions. Fighting and gunshots, about seven or eight minutes apart. He called the police another time, but given everything going on today, we didn’t have the units to spare.”

  “Nothing to help us identify where Clarke might have gone?”

  “No.”

  “Him killing his girlfriend and then trying to make a run for it doesn’t sound right to me. Why would you kill the girl?”

  “Maybe she was trying to turn him over to the Pantheon? Or to the police?”

  “But where’s the body? All we have are his bloodied clothes. Where did he have the time to kill her and hide her body? Have we located the girlfriend’s car yet?”

  “Working on it.”

  Then the police radio sounded with a crackle and a message from dispatch that I couldn’t hear. The one who had given the report spoke again. “Getting news that River Clarke has been spotted in Wembley.”

  “Wembley?”

  “His parents live there.”

  “Alright. Stay here and finish up the processing. When you’re done, leave two people on the...” I heard them walk away from the balcony.

  No idea how I’d been spotted in Wembley but whoever needed the glasses, thank you very much. It was all the way over in Northwest London, a good twenty-five minute drive from Swiss Cottage or Hampstead.

  I shuffled along the ground and lay on the thin rug, beside the coffee table. Hopefully, with that info, the police would hurry up and it wouldn’t be long before I could leave.

  It was long. Seven hours long.

  I’d fallen asleep at some point, waking up to an uncomfortable back from having slept on the hard floor. I was more tired than I’d thought and even with the aches, it was good to have rested. Who knows when I’d next be able to get some peaceful shut-eye? It didn’t seem to have done anything for those niggly pains in my knees however, as I got to my feet and rubbed my eyes awake.

  It was almost seven thirty in the evening, the sun almost down. There was very little movement that I could hear from my flat on the other side of the walls and I carefully made my way to the front door in the dark, revolver in the hoodie’s pocket, phone and cigs in the bottoms.

  I peeked through the peephole and saw the last of the officers leaving with boxes and bags, making their way to the lifts. I wasn’t as tense as I might’ve been had I been awake through the whole thing. It was like sleeping through turbulence on a plane. I’d done that plenty of times. The alternative was having high blood-pressure and praying that you got through to the end alive. I prefer the sleeping method.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  I headed back to the balcony and listened out for anyone in my flat near there. Not hearing anything, I risked stepping outside and looking down at the car park. I couldn’t see a single police car near the exit though there were a couple closer to the building’s entrance. My gnome-mobile was missing too. Probably towed away for further inspection.

  I leant against the balcony and checked my phone. A few messages from Kian and Carmen.

  12:32

  Carmen

  We dumped the car in Wembley. Stay safe xxx

  15:13

  Carmen

  Getting worried. Not heard from you. Text back xxx

  17:28

  Carmen

  Honey. Please text back. Where are you? X

  19:11

  Carmen

  Honey, just let us know if you’re safe? We’re still near the flat. Don’t see much police around anymore, so just let us know and we’ll pick you up x

  12:34

  Kian

  Told police you were in Wembley.

  14:05

  Kian

  Where you at?

  17:11

  Kian

  Came by the block of flats. Lot of five-o there. Hope you’re alright, bro. Let us know asap.

  I quickly messaged them both back that I’d been sleeping, the police had just left and I was going to leave myself now. Carmen didn’t text back. Kian did.

  19:28

  Kian

  Bro? Why would you tell Carmen that you were sleeping?

  I asked him what he meant.

  19:30

  Kian

  She’s been worried shitless. We’ve been trying to keep her calm and then you tell her you’re sleeping? Seriously? Just get your arse down here. We’re over at Primrose Hill. The entrance by the shop parade.

  See what I mean about high blood-pressure and worrying too much. I’m sure most people in a similar situation would stress out. They’d think about next steps and all the things that could go wrong and all the reasons they should do this or that. Me? I feel like thinking too much cripples you into inaction. You’ll talk yourself into not doing things. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing for me to do here except wait it out. It’s not like the police would have forced entry into this home. Not without good reason.

  Still, maybe I shouldn’t have told her I was sleeping. At least, maybe I should have explained myself better. She’d understand when she thought about it. I’m gonna blame it on not having a coffee. Always have a coffee when you wake up.

  I texted Kian back to let him know I’d be there as soon as I could - it was about a fifteen minute walk away.

  I put the phone into my pocket, made my way back to the front door and took a look through the peephole again. It let me see the corridor and the apartment doors across and on either side. The coast looked clear. I looked around for some footwear that wasn’t bloodied, finding some black trainers but they looked small. Checking the tag, it showed it was a size eight. I found another pair that was size ten. Taking a glance at Darren and Michelle’s purplish-blue feet, it seemed the larger pair belonged to Michelle. I put them on – a size too big, but still more comfortable than the eights. As I put the trainers on, I was reminded of the bandage on my hand. Carefully, I took it off. The cut was raw and pink, with bits of dried blood but it wasn’t bleeding.

  I discarded the bandage, stood at the door and took a deep breath. Walk out like I owned the place, wait for the lift, short journey down and then I would have freedom. At least temporarily. Enough to figure out what to do next. I took another deep breath and opened the door.

  I stepped out, quickly closing the door behind me so there wasn’t even the slightest chance of someone seeing Darren and Michelle’s lifeless bodies. From the corner of my eye, I spotted two officers standing outside my door and I turned to walk in the opposite direction as if I didn’t know they were there.

  “Excuse me, sir.”

  Fuck.

  I turned to face them, my hands in the hoodie pocket with the revolver. I had my hood up and it came forward enough to cover the gem in my head. Unless they got too close.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you live next door, sir?” the officer closest to me said. He was a little taller than me, broad in the shoulders, a baton, taser and pepper spray at his waist. The other one was of a similar height and similarly geared.

  “Yes, I do,” I lied. “How can I help?”

  “Officers have been trying to contact you about your neighbours,” the officer started walking towards me. I wanted to take a step back but I stood firm. Running would cause more issues. As far as they knew right now, River Clarke was several miles away. If I ran now, I’d draw them right back here.

  “Is that so? I’ve been asleep most of the day. I work night shifts.”

  “Would you mind answering some questions?” the officer said, stopping a couple of metres short of where I stood. I dipped my head a little, so he could see my face but not my forehead. The sleep I had earlier was wasted. That high blood-pressure I was trying to avoid had grabbed hold of me like it had a vendetta.

  “I’m actually in a hurry. Got a shift to get to.”

  “Well, with everything going on, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  “I work at a place where they time you when you go to the toilet. I’m sure they won’t understand.” It was a lie of course, but I had read that in a news article somewhere. Where I actually worked, many a person made sure to only go to the toilet on company time. “So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way. If you’re still here when I come back, around seven in the morning, I’d be happy to answer questions then.” I turned to leave.

  “Wait. Do you mind removing your hood?”

  I stopped, halfway turned from the officer. Decisions. Life always came down to decisions.

  Run, or comply.

  Or option number three. Reset.

  I put my hand around the revolver, but as I went to pull it out, the officer slammed into the back of me, arms wrapped around me to stop me from moving my own. I managed to keep my footing, dug my shoes into the ground to stop him from pushing me further. I leveraged the ground and twisted, pushing the officer back towards the wall, putting as much momentum into it as I could. We slammed into the wall, my back pressed into him as I snapped my head back into his face. He let go of me with a groan, but as I turned to face him and pulled the revolver out, he charged me again, smashing me against the wall behind me.

  As he held me there, arms wrapped around my midriff, I punched the back of his head multiple times with the handle of the revolver. From the corner of my eye, I saw the other officer running towards me, grabbing his taser from his waist.

  Without a second thought, I shot.