Chris Simms - Savage Moon

'There's a cafe´ in the library itself.' His voice squeaked with nerves.

'Whatever you prefer,' Rick answered.

They walked in awkward silence until they reached the library's entrance.

'I think I'd prefer it in here,' he said, making eye contact with

Rick for a split second.

Jon and Rick dropped their cups into a bin. They filed through the library's swing gate, crossed the foyer and went down the wide stone steps into the basement cafe´ where a woman was bustling around behind the counter.

'What would you like?' Jon asked.

The man glanced at his watch. 'Erm. A tea. Thank you.'

'Rick, another frothy coffee?' He let one eyebrow arch up and Rick gave him a polite smile.

'Yes, thank you, Jon.'

As the woman served their drinks, Jon looked down at

Adrian. 'Do you work in the city centre?'

He glanced about, checking that no one was within hearing distance. 'Yes. I work for the council, in the town hall offices.' Jon made himself look interested. 'That must be a great building to work in. Architecturally I mean.'

Adrian frowned. 'It's a little cramped. Not designed for all the computers we can't seem to survive without nowadays.'

Jon smiled. 'Yeah, same can be said for most police stations.' He nodded at the corner table. 'Over there?'

Once they'd sat down, Jon took out his notebook and pen.

'Now Adrian, everything you tell us is in the strictest confidence. Are you clear about that?'

'That's a promise is it? I have your promise? I can't let anyone know that I… that I was there, in the car park.'

'You have my word,' Jon assured him, hoping the case wouldn't develop in such a way that a court appearance would be necessary. 'So can you tell us exactly what happened?'

Adrian coughed nervously, then interlinked his fingers. 'I arrived at the car park at about ten o'clock. No one was there so I walked over to the brick shed at the end to wait.'

As he spoke his face slowly changed from a light red to a deep purple. You poor bastard, Jon thought. This is excruciating for you, isn't it?

'Why leave your car?' Rick gently prodded.

'I don't like staying in it.' He glanced up. From his imploring look, Jon could tell he didn't want to explain why.

'Sorry Adrian,' Jon said. 'We need to be clear on why. The attack took place by that shed. It could be important.'

Adrian made an attempt to clear his throat. 'I'm not… not the only one who uses the car.'

Right, Jon thought. Can't have other men's spunk on the wife's seat. 'So you were waiting by the shed?'

'Yes, there're trees behind it. It's quite a private area. The car turned up about ten minutes later. A dark blue Volvo, I gave part of its registration to the emergency operator when I called.' Seeing Jon's look of acknowledgement, Adrian paused. 'Is it the car? The car of the person found yesterday morning?'

'We think so, yes.' He got the photo of Derek Peterson out.

'Was this the man who arrived in the Volvo?' Adrian nodded. 'Now he's dead?'

Jon gave a single nod.

'And he was called Peterson?'

'He was.'

For a few moments Adrian's lips moved as he tried to form a word. Then he gave up and just stared at the table.

Jon met Rick's gaze, then turned his eyes towards Adrian and gave a little nod. Your turn.

'Adrian. The Volvo had just arrived… ' Rick prompted. Head still bowed, Adrian continued. 'Yes. He parked about ten metres away from my car. I stepped out from the side of the shed, waited for him — Peterson — to see me, then I moved back into the shadows. A few seconds later I heard his footsteps. He came round the corner and stood before me.' Adrian's head sagged lower as if weighed down by shame. 'We had just got started when… '

'Sorry Adrian.' Jon kept his eyes on his notebook, avoiding eye contact. 'I take it you were… the height of your head was at… '

'I was kneeling, yes. Then I heard movement in the undergrowth behind us. Twigs snapping, then a shoe crunching on gravel. I hadn't time to look up before there was this… this kind of stifled cry. So full of rage it was.'

'From the attacker?' Jon asked.

'I think so. Then came the sound of something striking Peterson. He staggered back against the wall of the shed and I rolled on to the ground and covered my head with my arms, waiting to get hit. But the noises continued above me. I looked up and saw it was a young man. They were chest to chest, grappling with the weapon. Blood was dripping down Peterson's face. The younger man was hissing bastard, bastard, bastard and Peterson's whole posture changed.'

'How do you mean?' Jon sat forward.

'Well, at first he was just as surprised as me. But then he recognised the guy who'd hit him.'

'How do you know he recognised him?' Jon cut in.

'He just did. You'll see when I carry on. Peterson kind of squared up to him, did something to break the younger man's grip on the metal bar. By now I was on my feet, I moved around them and was going towards my car. It looked like Peterson was going to disarm him and I thought we could both make a run for it, but Peterson didn't escape when he had the chance.'

Adrian raised a hand to the bridge of his nose and pinched it.

'Peterson got hold of the young guy's wrist and twisted it up and behind his back. It must have really hurt because the lad let go of the bar with his other hand and started to gasp.' Adrian's eyes were now squeezed shut. 'He kept twisting the lad's arm up, forcing him to bend forward. Then… then he pulled the lad's tracksuit bottoms down. I actually said to him, what are you doing? He told me to piss off. He had the bar ready and I backed off, away from it all. It was then the lad started to scream.'

Jon lifted one hand from the table. 'Hang on, I think I've lost you here. It was the lad screaming, not Peterson?'

'Yes. The lad. I'm sure Peterson knew him. That's why he did it, he was punishing him, I'm sure.' He turned towards the wall and shook his head.

'Sorry Adrian, you're saying Peterson assaulted his attacker?' Adrian ran a hand down the side of his face. 'He'd bent him over. He used that metal bar on him, I know he did.'

'You mean he inserted it into the lad's anus?'

'I didn't actually see, but the screams. What else was he doing?'

Jon turned the information over in his head. Christ, Adrian was probably right. 'So you went back to your car and rang nine-nine-nine?'

'Yes, the screaming went on and on. Then Peterson reappeared. By now the blood was completely covering his face and sweatshirt. He had this look on his face. Sort of shocked but also triumphant. He swapped the bar to his other hand, opened the car… '

'He was still carrying the weapon?'

'Yes, he shoved it under the driver's seat. At that point I rang off and got the hell out of there.'

'Did Peterson follow you out?'

'He did.'

Jon sat back. Jesus, that put a whole new angle on the incident. No wonder Peterson didn't want to report it. 'Adrian. I really appreciate you coming forward with this information. How are you doing for time?'

Adrian glanced at his watch. 'I should be going.' He stood up, then noticed his untouched tea. 'Sorry, I completely forgot about it.'

Jon waved a hand in dismissal. 'Not a problem. Adrian, at some point, we'll need to take a formal statement. When's the best time to contact you?'

'Will it be used to identify me?'

'No, absolutely not. Should we call you at your office?'

'Yes. My office.'

Rick straightened up. 'I've got your work number, Adrian.' Jon stood up and held out his hand. It was gripped momentarily in a sweaty palm, then Adrian hurried off between the tables. Jon moved round to the empty seat, stretched his legs out and reached across the table for his coffee. As he did so, he ran over Adrian's version of events. Jesus, Peterson was a sick fuck. To actually shove an iron bar up some poor bloke's arse.