Chapter Text
Neville and his team were celebrating the closure of their recent case in Catherine’s bar. He watched Florence and Marlon conversing animatedly from where he stood at the bar, waiting for Catherine to make the drinks.
The older woman placed the last of the drinks before leaning in conspiratively. “Have you told her yet, Neville?”
Neville knew exactly what she was on about. What was worse was that he had actually managed to tell her, but of course his laptop had to freeze. It was just his rotten luck.
He chuckled derisively. “I did Catherine, but I’m going to need a lot more alcohol before I’ll open that wound.” He cast a glance to Florence, who was laughing at something Marlon had just said, and his heart warmed at the sight. He picked up the tray, and after thanking Catherine, went back to the group.
Catherine sighed. How could they both be so oblivious. Poor Neville obviously had no idea that Florence had heard him, because she hadn’t told him yet. Catherine had half a mind to tell him herself, but she knew that it had to be up to Florence. Until then she would have to watch the ever so awkward and pining Neville, who was still trying to get the courage to ask Florence out again.
Neville felt his heart burst out his chest as Florence smiled, and not for the first time did he wish he could photograph it. He slipped seamlessly into their conversation and they were soon all laughing.
But his rotten luck seemed to extend as he heard voices that he hadn’t heard in years. His stomach plummeted, which he tried to hide from his friends, hoping that the voices wouldn’t recognise him.
“Well, I don’t believe it!” The familiar voice came closer, and he tried to hide his discomfort as someone he remembered very well came into view. “It is you and all.” Neville didn't get time to respond before the other man continued, fixing his gaze on Neville. “So this is where you’ve been hiding these past few years.”
Neville nodded mutely, as if all the words had been taken from him. He hoped that the other man would leave him alone already.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”
Neville really didn’t want to, but upon seeing the curious faces of both Florence and Marlon, he reluctantly did so. “This is James Cooke. We were in high school together.”
“We were more than just in high school together,” James said abruptly, as if Neville had just offended him. “We were best mates, weren’t we, Nev?”
Neville should’ve been honest from that point. As far as anyone was concerned, he and James Cooke were not friends. Never had been. He still remembered how James used to treat him, and as an adult, he really could’ve got him to stop. However, seeing Florence smile at the idea of Neville having other friends (though it wasn’t true), he decided to play it out.
“Sir, you never mentioned you had friends in high school,” Marlon pointed out innocently, and he silently hoped that it would put James off and he would finally leave.
“It just never seemed relevant.” He lied, though there was an element of the truth, as they had never talked about school before, so there had been no need to talk about his high school life.
“Or could’ve been because you’re so busy,” James said, veiled as a compliment, but it was enough to make Neville frown slightly. What on earth was he playing at? “He was like that in high school, you know. Busy, busy, busy.”
Neville finally had the courage to speak, turning to James. “So what brings you to the island?”
James clapped a hand on Neville’s shoulder, and it took everything for him not to flinch away from the unwanted touch. “A load of us from school are here for the school reunion. I did send you an invite, but I didn't know you’d already moved out here, what a coincidence!”
More like god awful luck. Neville was pretty sure that the universe was conspiring against him. There wouldn’t have been any chance of him getting an invite to a reunion party, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have gone. James Cooke had made his high school experience a miserable one, and he wasn’t easily able to ignore that.
James turned towards the bar, where a few others congregated. “Guys, look who it is,” he crowed, “It’s only Neville Parker!”
There was a response of drunken cheers, as Neville tried to spot who could remember. Though it had been years, people looked mostly similar to how they did in high school.
James, for example, was still that little bit taller than Neville had been, but he still wore that signature smirk.
At the bar he recognised a few others: Jonathan Wilkinson, Skye Burton, and Jaya Hussain. They were part of James’ posse in high school, and by the looks of it, they still were today.
“There’s still a few people left to fly out, but the proper reunion is tomorrow is at the hotel we’re staying at. You are coming, aren’t you, Nev?”
Neville really wanted to say no. He wanted to go back to the shack and stay there until they’d left the island. But he nodded, with a quiet, “I’ll be there.”
James grinned, and even now, it still reminded Neville that he should be wary. He felt trapped, and knew it was exactly how James wanted him to feel.
James told him the name of the hotel they were staying at, and if Neville recalled, it was the most expensive one on the island, which honestly didn’t surprise him. James sauntered off, and Neville waved him off, pleased that he was finally leaving.
“I didn’t know you had friends at school, sir.” Marlon said, which in all fairness was true. Neville had no friends at high school, but as they were under the impression that he and James were friends, he lied again.
“We just lost contact. Haven’t spoken in years.”
Both Marlon and Florence seemed happy with the answer and luckily for him, the topic never came up again that evening, going back to the conversation they were having before James had made an appearance. Soon they called it a night, with Marlon heading off home and Florence giving him a lift back to the shack.
Car rides were becoming increasingly awkward, ever since his confession. He’d been trying to not make it as obvious, to not come across as some lovesick fool, because at the end of the day, maybe that was all he was. In love with a woman that didn't love him back.
He tried to push those thoughts away as went to bed.
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Florence picked him up as usual in the morning, and they were soon at the station. It was relatively quiet, with Marlon now out on patrol, and Florence and Neville were preparing paperwork for court cases.
Before long, the end of their shift came, and Neville lingered in the station, fiddling with a file in his hands, hoping he’d be able to get to the shack, and stay there for the rest of the evening, desperate to not go to the reunion.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, sir?” Her tone was somewhat expectant, and in hindsight, he should’ve known that she’d remember.
“I don’t think I’m going to go.” Neville moved towards the filing cabinet and placed the file inside, unable to meet Florence’s gaze.
“Sir,” she huffed dramatically and he turned on his heels to face her. “C’mon. You said you would go.” She paused and fixed him with a grin, “You’ll be fine, I'm sure of it.”
Neville hummed, unsure. This reunion party sounded like trouble from the get-go, but seeing Florence’s insistent look, he conceded. “I’ll go - but for one hour.”
She laughed sweetly. “Okay, one hour.”
He gave her a gentle smile before they locked up for the evening, and she dropped him back at the shack, where he quickly changed into a different set of clothes. He took a taxi to the hotel, bracing himself for the nightmare he would be living.
He made his way into the hotel and he was directed towards the beach. He did have to admit, the people who had decorated the little area had done an incredible job. Fairy lights shimmered around the palm trees and bushes, as well as the hues of the brightly coloured bunting.
He caught eyes with Skye, who gave him a small smile as she waved him over. Cautiously he made way over to her. Whilst she’d been party of James’ friend group, she had never actually said anything nasty to him, but she hadn’t done anything to stop it either.
“Hi Neville.” She greeted politely, “I’m so happy you made it.”
“Hey, Skye.” Neville replied. “Uh, yeah.” he shifted awkwardly on his feet.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Er, sure. Thanks.” He followed Skye to the small bar where the drinks were being served.
“So what brought you out here?” She asked. “You know, I can’t really imagine you living here. No offence.”
Neville chuckled. “I came out here on a case, things happened, and I decided to stay.” He decided not to mention specifics, because he really didn’t want to divulge the fact that he got deep vein thrombosis.
His reply still seemed to satisfy her. “Deciding on impulse? Would’ve never pegged you to do that.” She gave him a friendly grin.
“Well things change, and your life gets put into perspective.” He thinks back to that moment on the beach, his leaving party no less. His conversation with Olivia Reeves. He also thought about how he was staying now, what was making him stay, or who.
“Well, I’m happy for you.” She said quietly. “And I’m sorry. For not doing anything back then. I should’ve said something. What we did was horrible. I’ll never forgive myself for it.”
“It’s okay.” Neville said gently, and even he was stunned with what he said next. “I forgive you.” Maybe he was just forgiving Skye. Because he really wasn’t sure if he’d forgiven James.
Whilst most of James’ friends had joined in with the jokes. James always took it too far. He’d hidden the bruises and the injuries well from his mother, who still mollycoddled him, even in his teenage years.
They slipped into general conversation after that. He learnt that Skye was a manager of a shop, and that she had a husband and a young daughter, who she was already missing terribly.
Skye had gone to talk to another friend of hers, leaving Neville alone at the bar. Fiddling with the glass he was holding, he took in the atmosphere around him, looking for somewhere quiet. Eyeing the jungle area near the coast, he knew that would likely be the best for him to go. No one would look for him there.
Unfortunately, it would as luck had it out for him, because no sooner had he found his sanctuary, it had been taken away by James himself.
“Look what we have here.” James drawled, “Neville all on his own. Things haven’t changed, have they, Parker?” He smiled wickedly at Neville’s obvious discomfort. Neville went to answer, but James hadn’t finished.
“You’re still the friendless loser from high school, who’s probably only got a job here because all his colleagues found him unbearable. Do they even like you here? Are they sick of you?” He sneered. “And what was her name, Florence, right? She doesn’t love you back.” He laughed cruelly at Neville’s alarmed look. “It’s obvious that you like her. I can’t believe you think that someone like her would like you back.”
“Just shut up!” Neville bit out angrily. He really didn’t want to argue. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of being like a caged animal. He hated it. “Shut up.”
“Oh, has our Nev finally grown a backbone?” He mocked. “It’s only taken you what? Over 30 years?”
Neville groaned in frustration, and he began to walk towards the party. “I’ve had enough of this.”
“He won’t even stand up to me, after all this time/ Thought you detectives were supposed to be brave.”
Neville ignored him and continued walking. Instead of going back to the bar, he went towards the sea. The party thrummed behind him, as he stared out into the ocean. Everything was peaceful.
Until he heard a bloodcurdling scream.
Into police mode, he ran to where the sound was coming from, his heart racing as it came from the jungle area. When his eyes landed on the body, it took him everything not to throw up. He dialled Florence as quickly as possible, and breathed a sigh of relief when she answered.
“Sir, is everything okay?”
“Florence, James Cooke has been murdered and I may be the last person who saw him alive.”