Blood Guilt (32 page)

“Before you go getting
too excited, he hasn’t said anything about anything, he’s just agreed to
cooperate with the line-up. We’re sending a car for the boy and his mother. It
should be there soon.”

“I’ll let them know.
Good work, Jim.”

“Don’t congratulate me.
It was your idea to bring the old woman to see Nash. Besides, he’s still not
opened up about Ethan or Jones.”

“But this is a start,
and that’s a hell of a lot more than we had yesterday. We just need to find
something to get the floodgates fully opened, then everything else will come
pouring out. Maybe the line-up is that something.”

“Maybe. We’ll see. In
the meantime, I’m gonna work on him some more. I’ll speak to you later.”

“What was that about?”
Kane asked, as Harlan hung up.

Harlan told him. Kane’s
tongue flicked at his lips, and a tightness came into his face. “There’s
nothing to be scared of,” Harlan reassured him. “Nash won’t be able to see or
hear you.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ scared
of him. If he comes after me, I’ll batter the shit out of him,” Kane responded
defensively, but his bravado rang as hollow as the tremor in his voice.

“I’d better go tell
your mum.” Harlan hesitated to leave Kane alone with his fear. He wanted to say
something more to reassure him, but he knew any such words would be flung back
in his face. As if to prove how unconcerned he was, Kane nonchalantly resumed
his game. “Thanks for talking to me,” said Harlan. The boy gave no sign of
having heard. Harlan’s eyes strayed briefly to Ethan’s bed again, then he
turned to make his way downstairs.

A strange pale look
came over Susan’s face when she heard what was going to take place. Like Kane,
there was fear in her expression, but it was tempered by an almost violent
eagerness. “What do you think it means? Do you think he’s ready to spill his
guts?”

“I don’t know,” said
Harlan, not wanting to give false hope.

Susan lit a cigarette,
and puffing intensely on it, began pacing the kitchen. At the sound of a car
pulling up outside, she darted to the front window. “It’s a police car.” She
lifted her head. “Kane, get down here.” A few seconds passed. No sound of
movement came from upstairs. “What the hell’s he doing?” Susan ran to the
bottom of the stairs. “Kane, get a bloody move on!”

“Take it easy on him,”
said Harlan. “He acts tough, but he’s just a scared kid.”

“He’s scared? What
about me? I’m going out of my fucking–” Susan broke off as Kane appeared and
made his way downstairs with slow, reluctant steps. “Come on, come on,” she
urged, thrusting his coat and trainers at him. He put them on and sloped after
her, head hanging. She stepped out the front door, but he hesitated to follow.
Her eyes swelled with frustration. “What the hell’s the matter with you? You
understand what’s going on, don’t you?”

Kane nodded, without
meeting his mother’s gaze.

“Then you know that
every second you waste standing there may cost your brother his life. Now get
in the car.”

Kane’s face crumpled as
if he was about to cry, but he remained otherwise motionless.

“I said get in the
fucking–” Susan caught her anger with a deep breath, before continuing firmly,
but gently, “Please, Kane, do as I say.”

Kane glanced back at
Harlan. “Will you come with us?”

For a second time that
morning, Susan’s eyebrows lifted high. A little tremor of relief passed over
Kane’s face as Harlan said, “Of course I will.” Avoiding Susan’s inquiring
gaze, Harlan struggled into his shoes and followed Kane to the police car. The
boy sat between him and Susan, nervously picking at his jeans, as the car drove
blurringly fast to the edge of the city and beyond. Every once in a while, a
voice crackled over the two-way radio, inquiring as to their location. Other
than that and the driver’s response, the journey passed in silence. An hour and
a half or so later, they pulled into a car park around the back of a police
station on the outskirts of Manchester. Jim was waiting for them. He gave
Harlan a surprised glance, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge him.

“This way, please.” Jim
ushered Susan and Kane into the building. They made their way along a corridor
to a room where DCI Garrett, DI Greenwood, DI Sheridan and several other
detectives awaited them. A faint frown tugged Garrett’s brows at the sight of
Harlan, but as his eyes moved to Susan a well-practiced smile of grave welcome
chased it away.
Slimy bastard
, thought Harlan, approaching a two-way
mirror, on the other side of which eight figures were lined up. All of them
roughly Nash’s height and build. All of them wearing black balaclavas. They
looked like a gang of terrorists.

Garrett held his hand
out to Susan. She was slow to take it. “It’s good to see you again, Susan. And
you, Kane. Has the procedure been explained to you?”

“No,” said Susan.

“It’s simple. One at a
time, each of the men will approach the mirror and say, be quiet or I’ll kill
you and your brother. All you have to do, Kane, is say if you recognise any of
their voices.” Garrett gestured at the line-up. “We’re confident that one of
those men is the man who took your brother, but–”

“If one of them is him,
it’s no thanks to you he’s in there,” cut in Susan, with a meaningful glance at
Harlan.

Garrett’s smile
faltered, but remained fixed in place. Ignoring the acid remark, he continued,
“But if you can pick his voice out it’ll really help strengthen our case. Now
take your time. And don’t be afraid to ask if you want any of them to repeat
the words.”

Garrett gave a signal
and one of the detective’s spoke into a mic. “Number one, step forward and read
the line.”

Susan laid a hand on Kane’s
shoulder as the first figure approached the mirror and read from a card in a
flat, emotionless tone. “Be quiet or I’ll kill you and your brother.”

Harlan didn’t recognise
the voice. Kane indicated that he didn’t either with a shake of his head. The next
figure stepped forward, and the next, and the next. All of them elicited the
same response: a shake of Kane’s head. The fifth figure recited the line.
Harlan tensed, a jolt of adrenaline shooting through him. He recognised Nash’s
voice instantly, even though it sounded different. It had an unusually gentle,
almost soothing quality, maybe acquired through years of caring for Mary
Webster, or maybe adopted to hide its owner’s true nature. Po-faced, Harlan
looked at Kane. The boy seemed to consider for a moment, then shook his head.
“Are you sure?” Garrett asked him.

“Yes.”

“It’s just that you
hesitated.”

“Only because the voice
sounded kind of strange.”

“Do you want number
five to say the line again?”

Kane shrugged. Garrett gestured
and number five was ordered to repeat the words. This time, Kane didn’t
hesitate. “It’s not him.”

“Take your time,
darling,” said Susan.

“I don’t need to. It’s
not him.”

Harlan exchanged a
glance with Jim. His ex-partner’s carefully expressionless face reflected his
own, but Harlan knew him well enough to read disappointment in his eyes. Nash
stepped back into line, handing off the card. None of the other voices caused
Kane to hesitate. After shaking his head at the last figure in the line, he said,
“It’s none of them. He’s not here.” He looked up at Susan. There was the first
hint of tears in his voice. “I’m sorry, Mum.”

Susan squeezed her
son’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Your mum’s right,”
said Garrett. “You’ve been very brave and done all you could.”

“So does this mean Nash
isn’t the one who took my Ethan?” Susan asked.

“Not at all. It merely
means Kane didn’t recognise his voice, which when you think about it is hardly
surprising. In fact, I think there are some real positives to be taken from
this.”

“Positives?” A frown
darkened Susan’s features as she glanced at the two-way mirror.

“I’ll have to ask you
and Kane to wait in the corridor a moment while I talk to my colleagues.”

At a glance from
Garrett, DI Sheridan ushered them out of the room. “What about me?” asked
Harlan.

Garrett looked at him
with his police face, not his politician face. “You stay where you are.” There
was a hard, authoritative edge to his voice. He waited for DI Sheridan to close
the door, before continuing, “William Jones won’t be bringing charges against
you. Before you thank me, know this, if it were up to me I’d prosecute you to
the full extent of the law. But it’s not up to me. Apparently some people think
you’re a hero. I’m not one of those people.” Garrett leaned in close to Harlan,
his voice dropping to a furious hiss. “I know what you really are.”

Harlan fought a sudden
strong urge to break eye contact. “And what’s that?”

“You’re a menace to
society. A madman.”

Madman
.
The word lodged itself like a splinter in Harlan’s mind. Others of his own
making joined it.
A killer, a potential murderer, a monster
.
Is he
right
?
I
s
that what I am
? Not wanting to give Garret the
satisfaction of seeing that he’d gotten to him, he forced himself to hold his
gaze a moment longer. His voice almost toneless, he said, “I wasn’t going to
say thanks,” and turned to leave.

“One more thing,
Miller.”

Harlan paused, but kept
his back to Garrett. He watched the fifth figure in the line-up being cuffed,
ready to be returned to the cells. Garrett coughed as if something was stuck in
his craw, before saying, “Mr and Mrs Sutton’s solicitor will be in contact
about the money.”

“Money?” Harlan echoed
vaguely, only half listening. The line-up participants were filing out of the
neighbouring room, all of them still wearing their balaclavas, but only one
cuffed.

“The reward money for
finding their son. The Suttons want to thank you personally too.”

Harlan shook his head.
“Tell them the best way they can thank me is by spoiling Jamie every chance
they–” He was cut off by a scream so full of hysterical rage it barely sounded
human. It was followed by the sound of a scuffle in the corridor. He yanked the
door open in time to see DI Sheridan struggling to restrain Susan as, eyes
bulging like a demented cartoon character’s, she clawed at the handcuffed man,
missing him by inches. “Where’s Ethan?” she shrieked. “What have you done to my
baby boy? You sick fuck! I’ll fucking kill–” Her words were choked off by DI
Sheridan hauling her backward.

Harlan stepped between
Susan and Nash, who was being hurried away by a couple of uniforms. She lurched
forward again, hands flailing. He winced, his stitches pulling painfully as she
staggered against him. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her. She
briefly strained to break loose. Then, suddenly, her body went limp and she was
sobbing, and he was doing what he’d thought he couldn’t do, he was holding her
head on his shoulder, shushing her. He looked at Kane, who was shrunk back
against a wall, pale and staring. He tried to reassure him with his eyes,
before transferring his gaze to Garrett. The DCI, his face flushed with
dismayed embarrassment, was already forming an apology on his lips, but Harlan
spoke first. “Jesus! What is this? Fucking amateur hour?” Keeping one arm
around Susan, he walked her out of the station. The sound of Garrett giving
someone the hair-dryer treatment reverberated after them. When they got to the
car, she drew away abruptly.

“I’m alright now,” she
said. Harlan caught a flicker of guilt in her tear-swollen eyes as she turned
to Kane. “I’m sorry.” Harlan couldn’t tell if she was apologising for scaring
the boy or for allowing herself to be held by the man who’d killed his dad.

“It’s okay, Mum.” There
was still a note of shock in Kane’s voice, as if he’d seen a side to her, a
savagery, that he hadn’t known existed. But when she held out her hand, he took
it without hesitation and they got into the car.

Harlan turned to Jim,
who’d followed them outside. “What do you think? Nash was the only one Kane
hesitated over. It can’t be coincidence, right?”

“There’s no such
thing.” Jim jerked his thumb at the station. “Sorry about what happened in
there. It was unforgivable.”

“It’s not me you should
be apologising to. Besides, perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing. It might give
Nash something to think about, seeing the face of the suffering he’s caused.”

Jim made a doubtful
gesture. “He’d have to be human first.”

“He’s human. In fact,
he’s all too human. Mary Webster proved that.”

“Yeah, well he makes me
ashamed to be part of the same species.”

“How’s it going with
Jones?”

“Same as last time you
asked, he’s still in hospital, we’re still searching.” Jim glanced through the
car’s rear window. Susan’s head was rested back, eyes closed. She might’ve been
asleep, except the muscles of her jaw were working spasmodically. He sighed.
“Look after them, Harlan, and yourself. You look like shit, by the way. Anybody
told you that?”

Harlan smiled thinly.
“Yeah.”