UnBroken

Unbroken

By Odd Doll

Chapter 6

From the shadows beneath the deep overhang of The Weaver's Guild's second floor, Sylvester Waterman watched the two policemen take Phoebe Baher away. Just a few minutes earlier, and he could have had her out of there. He remained motionless until the patrol car's taillights turned and disappeared from sight, and his patience was rewarded. He glimpsed a figure in a long black cloak disappear around a corner. He couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman.

Sylvester possessed a '65 Mustang that was his pride and joy. He sat behind the wheel for a while, choosing his next step. It wasn't as if he could barge in to the Plymouth police station and demand that they turn her over to him.

His information had been poor and his luck worse. In the late afternoon, he missed Phoebe Baher at her hotel. In the evening, it seemed she had left the hospital moments before he arrived. And now he missed her again.

Everyone was certain Phoebe Baher had helped Snape, but what if she was telling the truth? What if Severus Snape had walked out on his own? Sylvester started the Mustang, turned onto the foggy street, and headed toward the hospital.

*****

At eleven p.m. Phoebe sat down on a metal chair in a windowless room at the Plymouth Main Police Station. It was a Tuesday night; the station was quiet. The only disturbance came from a drunken woman with a bleeding mouth, who cursed at an officer while he tried to take her statement. When the two officers led her into another part of the building, the door shut behind her, sealing out the woman's whiny voice.

The station itself had been a surprise, clean and modern. Heavy traffic areas had tile floors, but she passed carpeted work areas with cubicles of smoked glass in wooden frames. Other parts of the building seemed to be for dealing with the public and had heavy furniture and washable walls. The interview room was of that sort, with a heavy metal table bolted to the floor and the mandatory two-way mirror on the wall.

Phoebe crossed her legs and leaned back in the hard uncomfortable chair and unbuttoned her jacket. Her scalp itched again and she had to clench her fist to keep from scratching it. She tried to ignore that and the growing pain in her chest that prior experience told her was just acid and not a coming heart attack. That quiet little insidious voice in her head whispered: but maybe this time...

All is well in my world and I am safe.

All is well in my world and I am safe.

After ten iterations and some deep breathing, she started to think more clearly. She had to make a decision and do it fast. She could demand a lawyer, to stall for time, but that would involve yet another Muggle, not to mention the fact that she would have to call George to have him send someone from his firm.

As she pondered the implications of refusing to speak at all, the door opened and Chief Inspector Dunst entered with another plain-clothes detective. He wore the same cheap blue suit as earlier in the day, but a different tie. The second man was younger, with dark brown hair, a square jaw, and the beginning of what would someday be termed a gut.

"Chief Inspector Dunst, don't you ever sleep?" Phoebe had learned -- very well -- how to mimic calm unconcern. Her voice didn't shake, and only held a trace of casual disrespect.

"I could ask the same of you, Ms. Baher." He sat in the chair opposite her and placed a tape recorder on the table. "The officers said you were fully dressed and ready to go when they came to your hotel room."

She smiled at him and turned to the other man, holding out her hand. It didn't tremble but in her mind she repeated her mantra for safe measure.

"I'm Phoebe Baher. How do you do?"

Taken off guard, the second man shook her hand and smiled. "Detective Burgin, madam."

Dunst growled, "Sit." Phoebe's smile grew wider. It was the first time she had seen him lose his cool. He stabbed the record button on the tape recorder and spoke. "Tuesday, April 20, 1998, 11:17 p.m. Plymouth Police Station, Interview Room B. Speaking is Chief Inspector Harold Dunst of the Plymouth Police Department, Homicide Division. Present are Detective Christopher Burgin, same department and division. We are here to question Ms. Phoebe Baher in regards to the homicide on approximately April 17 of this year of Pieter Talinnin, as well as the disappearance of material witness know only as John Doe. Please state your full name and address." He looked up at Phoebe.

"Phoebe Cassandra Baher. 294 Monarch Road, Pacific Grove, California, USA."

"And your occupation?"

"Hotelier." She looked straight into his eyes with a slight smile on her lips.

He smirked. "Now that we have the formalities out of the way, Ms. Baher, can you tell me where the John Doe is?"

"No. I have no idea where he is."

"Do you know his real name?"

Phoebe paused, knowing that her hesitation answered for her. "No."

Dunst raised his eyebrows a fraction and went on to the next question. "Did you recognize his face?"

"In the condition he was in? His own mother wouldn't have recognized him."

"Please answer the question, Ms. Baher."

"No, I did not recognize his face."

"Did you recognize his tattoo?"

"Tattoo?"

"The one on his arm. He was naked when you found him, surely you couldn't have missed it."

"I'm sorry, I guess I did."

Phoebe grew more nervous, although she projected a cool aura. Years of hiding an anxiety disorder had taught her to show more calm than she ever felt. Burgin and Dunst remained impassive, watching her with almost a detached air. And they didn't seem very interested in the answers to her questions. It was as if they were throwaways, warm-up pitches before they threw the hard balls.

The next question was strike one.

"Ms. Baher, do you know how John Doe could have removed the wires from his mouth?"

She swallowed and said, "He removed the wires?"

Dunst removed a plastic bag from his coat pocket and laid it out on the table. It contained the bits of wire that Snape had spit out earlier in the day.