Witch(28)

“I’m not so sure,” I said softly, looking out of the living room window at the grey day. “I don’t think they will ever go away unless I tell the truth about what really happened. How those people really died.”

I heard my father breathe deeply on the other end of the line. “Sydney, that time has passed. We can’t go back on our story now.”

“But...” I started.

“Listen to me, Sydney,” he cut in, “there isn’t going to be a problem here unless you create one. The paperwork has been sent over to the coroner’s office. As far as everyone thinks, it was a regrettable accident caused by the old guy, who was half blind, steering his horse and cart out into the road in front of your patrol car.”

“But that’s a lie, dad,” I breathed. “That’s not what happened and you know it – I know it.”

“Look, if you start to wobble now, girl, the whole thing will go belly-up,” he warned. “But it won’t just be you who will be in the dock; it will be Mac, Woody, and me. Both of them are good men, with wives and children. Do you want to see them lose their jobs? Or worse, go to prison for perverting the course of justice? Because that’s what will happen, Sydney – that’s what will happen to all of us.”

“But...” I tried to start again.

“I understand how you feel,” my father said down the line, his voice taking on a calmer tone as if trying to reason with me. “However you want to look at it, Sydney, you didn’t mean to kill those people. It was a mistake, right?”

“Right,” I whispered, closing my eyes and picturing that little boy with the red sticky hair.

“A mistake you would have to pay for with the rest of your life if the truth ever came out that you had been drinking on duty, which resulted in the death of those people,” he reasoned with me.

“I get the feeling I’m going to pay for it anyway,” I whispered into the phone.

“Maybe,” he said. “But it will be a darn-sight more comfortable dealing with your guilt from the comfort of your apartment than a prison cell. Think about that, Sydney. You wouldn’t cope with life on the inside. I’ve seen it. Those people live like animals. They’d eat you up for breakfast and spit you out for supper, especially being a copper and all.” He paused, then added, “Can’t you see I’m just trying to protect you?”

“I know,” I said softly, but the feelings of guilt felt just as raw as ever.

There was a long pause.

“Why don’t you go and see your mum for a few days?” he suddenly suggested. "The change of scenery will do you good. You know, get right away from Cliff View. You might even decide that you want to stay...”

“You want to get rid of me?” I breathed, feeling crushed at his suggestion. “You don’t want me to come back because I’m an embarrassment to you. I cause you problems and always have.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “What I’m trying to say is, you might decide there is a better life for you in Spain. Let’s be honest – what’s there to offer you in Cliff View? You’re always telling me that there is no life down here – that you don’t really have any friends. All I’m trying to say is that you might have a more interesting life over there with your mum...”

“And Julio?” I snapped, wanting to hurt him as much as he had hurt me.

There was another long silence at the mention of my mum’s lover’s name.

Almost at once, I regretted what I had said. My father didn’t deserve that. Trying to make amends, I said, “I don’t want to go to Spain. If I had wanted to, I would’ve gone already. I want to stay in Cliff View – it’s my home...and I don’t want to leave you.”

Ignoring my last comment, my father said, “It’s up to you, Sydney, if you want to stay, then get a grip. This thing will pass in time. If you need me, you know where I am.”

The phone line went dead. I replaced the receiver, knowing that I’d pissed off my father – again. Still hurting at his suggestion that I go and live in Spain, I wanted to prove to him that I wasn’t the screw-up he took me for. I wanted to show my father that I could do something worthwhile in life for once – that I could make a difference. And I knew how I might do that. Dream, nightmare, or premonition – I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling that perhaps the girl in my nightmare and the old guy were somehow connected. Perhaps he had pushed her down the well? If I could somehow prove that, then it would go a long way of relieving some of my own guilt and show my father that I could be a good cop after all.