dentist ? luke hemmings [updating & editing]

chapter twenty eight: "law man"

So, extracting information from a country halfway across the world, on a completely different hemisphere wasn't easy.

Don't let movies, or TV shows fool you. Quoting Ashton, "you cannot hack into everything."
We have all seen it – a geeky character, who glided his fingers across the keyboard, clicking on random keys for five seconds and suddenly, he's breached his way through the security system of Fort fucking Knox.

Yeah, that cliché is getting old, and Ashton was no Edward Snowden.
"I found the case files from the divorce – God, could they be any more transparent, but can't find out if she was pregnant!" Ashton was speaking fast, almost blabbering, on the phone.

"She wasn't. She was lying!" I replied, standing on the pavement right outside Luke's clinic.

"And you know this.. how?" He questioned, mockingly, and somehow still managed to sound annoyed.

"I– I just do. Where is the baby then? It couldn't have magically disappeared!" I retorted.

"What if it was a miscarriage? You're going to feel real good, if you find out that's the case, aren't you?" Ashton's tone was now sarcastic. "You won't be able to forgive yourself."

"I'll manage." I paused for a second. "Olle said she moved to the UK a week after the divorce. They spoke two months later, when he tried informing her about his Mum's death, and she told him that she was living in Bristol, and was a stewardess working with a private domestic airline."

"I know what you're thinking," Ashton replied. "What airline hires pregnant stewardesses?" He scoffed. "You got a name?"

"Yeah, Royal Airways," I replied.

"Never heard of it."

"It exists, I googled it after he told me. Now how many weeks did she say she was pregnant, in her testimony?" I asked, beginning to walk, realising that I had been standing there like some dejected lover, for quite a while now.

"Four weeks," he answered. "I'll try finding out whether or not she was working for Royal Airways, and then see whether or not any of the hospitals in Bristol have a record of her being pregnant. God, how big is Bristol?"

"Big enough to consume your entire day, so better get to work."

As I ended the call, I found myself in a taxi, heading towards a specific address that wasn't mine. I was hurt, yes, to another extent, but it wasn't the time to mourn.

Now you must be thinking, if she perjured herself in Sweden, what would a court in Australia have to do anything with it?
Nothing, actually. They cannot convict her of a crime she committed in Sweden, but if we prove that she did lie, it would make her case look weak, and make the judge rule in favour of Luke.

But first, we needed to get Luke a new lawyer.

The cab halted, and I shoved a few bills into the chauffeur's hand, before exiting in a hurry. I practically raced towards the door, before ringing the doorbell.

It was around eight thirty, so I hoped he'd would be back home by then.

A few seconds later, the door opened and I was face to face with a middle aged, blonde haired man.

"Good evening, Mr. Hood. May I please come in?"

Yes, it was David Hood, Calum's father, who just so happened to be one of the best in town.

"Please, Blue – for the millionth time, call me David," he chirped, with the widest of smiles on his face. "You're right in time for dinner, and I won't take no for an answer." Sure, he looked harmless, and was probably the nicest chap one would ever come across, but winning a case against him was also next to impossible.