The Darkest Hour by Katherine Howell

out the window at the heavy traffic coming the other way. Reflected sunlight flashed from bumpers and windshields, and she hated all the cars and all the people inside them. Night shifts generally left her feeling like crap, but last night she hadn’t been able to rest even when they did get back to the station for a short time. When she’d tried to drink coffee she thought she could smell blood on her hands, and repeated washings didn’t help that or the occasional stickiness she felt on her palms. She hadn’t been able to decide whether to tell the detectives she knew a Thomas Werner, and her head hurt from worrying.
    ‘I’ll even buy you breakfast afterwards,’ Joe was saying.
    Lauren raised the sunglasses to rub her eyes. ‘I’m not hungry.’ Outside, a truck blasted its airhorn at someone, making her want to scream.
    Ella said, ‘They’re late.’
    ‘They don’t finish till eight,’ Murray said. ‘Then it’s, what, forty minutes’ drive out?’
    ‘Less than that. They’re coming against the traffic.’
    ‘Maybe they got overtime.’
    ‘And didn’t have time to call us?’ She was restless, wanting to get going on the next task, wanting to be out there, talking to people, digging for facts. She was tired but buzzed. She wanted more action than typing.
    Movement at the door caught her eye. The paramedics stood there looking in, and she elbowed Murray. ‘I’ll take the woman.’
    Murray took the man across to a far corner of the room while Ella led the woman back to Murray’s chair. ‘Lauren, right?’
    The woman nodded. She looked tired but tense, as if she was exhausted and running on caffeine alone.
    ‘Can I get you anything?’ Ella said. ‘Tea, coffee?’
    ‘I’m fine.’
    Ella had the computer ready to go. ‘You’ve done statements before?’
    Lauren nodded.
    ‘Let’s get started then. Name, address, age and occupation?’
    Lauren kept her hands clenched between her knees under the desk. Every time she said Thomas’s name she felt herself tense up further. She watched Ella for signs that she picked up more in Lauren’s voice or behaviour than she should, but the detective typed on merrily, pausing to nod every so often when Lauren talked, rephrasing some things she said into the statement-speak Lauren had seen before. There was no room in statements for emotions, and though she knew she never could tell anyone – perhaps
because
she knew she never could tell anyone – Lauren found herself wishing she could open up to the detective about how she felt knowing that Kennedy’s death was down to her.
    ‘And then what?’ Ella said.
    ‘I completed my handover to the hospital staff and they took over Mr Kennedy’s care.’
    Ella typed the words then hit the full stop. ‘Beautiful.’
    Lauren looked across the room. Joe and the male detective were laughing about something. They’d probably been long finished, as Joe hadn’t heard as much as she had. If Joe had heard nothing, would they be there now?
    ‘Just read this over then sign at the bottom of each page.’ Ella handed her the printed pages of her statement. ‘Then you can go.’
    Lauren skimmed it and signed and gave the pages back. ‘So,’ she said.
Tell her you might know him, tell her! You think it will be easier later?
But she couldn’t make the words come out.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Have you caught the guy yet?’
    ‘I wish,’ the detective said.
    Lauren gestured at the computer. ‘Was he on your system there already?’
    ‘We’ve found a number of people with that name actually.’
    ‘All from, um, Sydney?’
    ‘Or elsewhere in the state,’ the detective said.
    Lauren thought of Kristi. ‘Are you going to release his name to the media?’
    ‘We have no plans to.’ Ella studied Lauren for a moment. ‘I know why you’re asking.’
    Lauren felt a jolt of adrenaline.
    ‘I saw last night that this one affected you a bit, so I understand you want to know what’s happening, how quickly we’ll get the