Harte

by Robert Innes

  “There appears to be something very wrong at the van,” Theresa continued. “I don’t know quite how this is possible and I cannot believe I am actually saying this, but it would appear, and I am just getting it confirmed…yes, yes, I can confirm that Thomas Frost has appeared to have escaped from the confines of the prison van. You are hearing this news live, breaking news from us here at Belmarsh prison, somehow, Thomas Frost has disappeared from the back of that police van!”

  Six

  Harrison stepped out of the lift at Clackton general hospital, a carrier bag handle digging into his fingers from all the purchases he had made from the shop before he had finished his shift for the day. Although he had only had the sort of relationship with Tom that he would consider to be ‘friendship’ for a very short time, he had managed to ascertain some of Tom’s favourite magazines and his thinking was that turning up at the hospital with them may give Jacqueline something to smile about.

  As he wandered along the ward, he briefly wondered about Blake and whether he had made his way to Manchester yet. Although Blake had promised to ring him once he had arrived, Harrison had assumed that would be forgotten about once he had met up with Sally. He could just picture the two of them catching up, laughing together and, more than likely, already at least half way through a bottle of gin. As he arrived on Tom’s ward, Harrison smiled to himself. It was just what Blake needed.

  He briefly indicated to the nurse that he was there and was given a lazy nod in reply from the large woman behind the desk, who, Harrison could see as he passed, was deeply engrossed in a game of solitaire on the computer.

  He opened the door to Tom’s private room quietly and was not surprised to find Jacqueline there too. She was sitting in the chair by the side of the bed, her hand clasped tightly in her son’s, her head resting on the edge of the mattress, fast asleep.

  Harrison placed the carrier bag down next to her and gently shook her shoulder. “Jacqueline?” he said quietly.

  She mumbled something indistinct and slowly raised her head. Her hair was looking more unkempt by the hour, now resembling something closer to the top of the Statue of Liberty.

  “Harrison,” she murmered, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “Hello, darling. What are you doing here?”

  “I brought some stuff from the shop,” he replied, opening the bag up. “Just a few magazines for Tom when he wakes up and I got some drinks and things too if you want to help yourself. You look exhausted.”

  “That’s so kind, darling,” Jacqueline replied. “I don’t suppose you thought to bring any wine, did you?”

  Harrison chuckled and perched himself on the edge of the bed. “Any news?”

  Jacqueline shook her head as she unscrewed the lid on one of the bottles of drink from the bag. “I thought his eyes were fluttering earlier, but the nurse didn’t seem to think it was anything of note. I’ve been talking to him lots, they say that you can hear when you’re…”

  She paused and then took a long sip of the drink.

  “I’m sure he can,” Harrison said. “He’s going to be fine. He’s not the sort to let something like a bump to the head…”

  He was interrupted by the door opening and, to his surprise, Mattison walked into the room followed by Gardiner.

  Gardiner raised a disdainful eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just here to support my friend,” Harrison replied.

  “Well, get out,” Gardiner said flatly. “We need to speak to Jacqueline.”

  “Harrison is going nowhere,” Jacqueline interjected. “He’s been a pillar of strength to me at the minute. I’m entitled to have someone with me, aren’t I?”

  “Course you are,” Mattison said, glaring at Gardiner. “If you’d prefer.”

  Gardiner muttered something grumpily under his breath before taking out his notepad.

  “How is he?” Mattison asked as Harrison moved to the other side of the room so the officers could sit down.

  Jacqueline shook her head. “No change at the moment, though we’re staying positive, aren’t we, Harrison?”

  “Absolutely,” Harrison replied.

  Gardiner cleared his throat. “Are you sure that you don’t want Harrison to leave? The questions we have to ask you are going to be rather difficult.”

  Again, Jacqueline shook her head. “I’m quite sure.”

  Gardiner shrugged. “Very well. I’d like to ask you, if I may, about Tom’s father.”

  There was a long pause. Jacqueline appeared to go quite pale. “His father?” she repeated. “What about him?”

  “What’s his name, Jacqueline?”

  She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat but remained silent for a few moments. “No comment,” she said at last.

  Harrison raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “Come on, Jacqueline,” Mattison said gently. “This is going to be a lot easier if you cooperate.”

  “We found some very interesting things on Tom’s phone,” Gardiner continued, watching Jacqueline carefully. “Including who he was speaking to on the night he was attacked, or rather, where the person he was speaking to was calling from.”

  Jacqueline looked down at the ground. “Oh yes?” she said, fiddling frantically with the corner of the bedclothes.

  “It was a call from Manchester,” Mattison said carefully. “More specifically, from a prison in the Manchester area.”

  “Well, what-what, what does that have to do with Tom’s father?” Jacqueline stammered.

  “The messages on his phone,” Mattison replied. “They’re from somebody called ‘F.’ Throughout all these messages, this guy is referred to by Tom as ‘Dad’.”

  “Who is it, Jacqueline?” Gardiner asked.

  “Harrison, maybe it would be better if you…” Jacqueline began.

  “Because we think there’s a very good chance that the man your son is referring to as ‘Dad’ is Thomas Frost,” Gardiner interrupted.

  There was a long silence.

  Harrison stared in disbelief at Jacqueline. “Thomas Frost?” he repeated. “The serial killer, Thomas Frost? The man Blake had locked up?”

  Nothing Gardiner had said made any sense. Harrison thought back over various conversations he had had with Tom since he had arrived in Harmschapel. Very quickly, it had been established between them that parents were thin on the ground between them. Harrison had explained that both of his were in prison and Tom had told him that his father, Harrison had presumed Jacqueline’s husband, had died some years ago. Then Harrison thought harder and he realised that Tom had clearly had a problem with Blake very early on to them meeting. It had been a dislike that had made no sense to Harrison, it had seemed so without basis. The idea that Tom had been working on behalf of his father, thanks to the sinister undertones of Tom’s words whenever they had spoken about Blake, suddenly felt horribly possible.

  “Jacqueline?” Harrison murmered. “Is this true? Tom’s father is Thomas Frost?”

  “Judging by the messages on his phone, Tom has been in regular contact with a man in Strangeways prison in Manchester,” Gardiner continued.

  Mattison glanced up at Harrison. “Actually, Harrison, I think it would be better if you left,”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Harrison said forcefully. “You’re telling me that Tom has been in contact with the man who Blake put behind bars? Saying what? Tom has had it in for Blake ever since he arrived in Harmschapel. Is that why? Because he was responsible for getting Frost put away? Have they been talking about Blake?”

  Jacqueline shook her head. “I promise you, Harrison, I had no idea about any of this.” She looked up at Gardiner imploringly. “Michael, please. You can’t seriously be telling me that Blake is in any danger?”

  Harrison’s phone vibrated in his pocket and the alert noise for a news report sounded around the room. Usually, Harrison would instinctively pull his phone out and immediately check what the report was, but he was too distracted by what he was hearing.

  “Matti?”
he asked. “What has he been saying to Frost about Blake?”

  Mattison glanced at Gardiner, who merely rolled his eyes and shrugged.

  “There’s several text messages detailing Blake’s movements,” Mattison said. “The general tone of the conversation seems to be that ‘F’ wants to know what Blake is doing, where he’s going, who he’s with. Whoever ‘F’ is knows that Blake is now in Manchester.”

  Harrison was immediately hit with the memories of Tom absolutely transfixed to his phone, frantically messaging somebody and refusing to be parted with it. “That’s who he was texting?”

  Before Mattison could answer, Jacqueline let out a yelp and grasped Tom tightly by the hand. His eyes were fluttering and he seemed to slowly be starting to wake up.

  “Tom?” Jacqueline exclaimed. “Tom!”

  Harrison strode to the bed and stared intently as Tom, with what looked like a great effort, began to open his eyes.

  “Oh, thank God,” Jacqueline said, her eyes filling with tears.

  Tom began to come around, his head leaned slightly to the side as he finally opened his eyes, the first person he made eye contact with was Harrison. For a moment, he stared at him, perhaps trying to make sense of where he was and who he was looking at. Then, he smiled.

  “Harrison…” he wheezed. “You’re here. Thank you.”

  He tried to reach for Harrison’s hand, but it was quickly pulled away as Harrison glared at him angrily. “What have you done, Tom?” he asked quietly.

  “Tom, I’m Sergeant Michael Gardiner,” Gardiner announced, stepping forwards pompously. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  Tom briefly closed his eyes again and for a moment, Harrison thought he had passed out once more, but then he reopened them and stared at Gardiner, wincing slightly as he got used to the light in the room. “I don’t…I can’t remember…”

  “You were attacked,” Gardiner explained briskly. “Do you have any memory of who might have attacked you? Anything you can remember at all?”

  Jacqueline turned to him angrily. “Can you back off, Michael? He has only just regained consciousness. Oh, my darling, thank God you’re alright!” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly.

  Tom turned his head slowly to look at her, his expression darkening beneath the grogginess.

  “You…” he murmered, before pulling his hand free from her with the little strength that he could manage. “It was you.”

  Jacqueline’s eyes widened. She looked at him imploringly, tears forming in her eyes. “Tom, darling, listen to me, you’re confused…”

  “No, no, I’m not!” Tom murmered. “You hit me. You hit me and then ran off down the road!”

  There was a long silence in the room. Harrison stared at Jacqueline, waiting for her to deny Tom’s claims, but instead all she did was lean back in her chair and sob.

  Gardiner, looking more surprised by the turn of events that he probably intended, took another step towards Jacqueline. “Tom, are you sure? You do realise what you’re accusing your mother of, don’t you?”

  Tom grunted as he tried to sit up, then threw Jacqueline as filthy a look as he could probably manage when she went to help him, causing her to back away again. “I’m sure,” he whispered. “My own mother attacked me and left me for dead. I saw your shoes as you were running. Y’know, the ones I got you for your birthday?”

  Jacqueline seemed incapable of speech. She could only mouth some indistinguishable words as the tears continued flowing.

  Gardiner looked amazed, then shrugged, clearly delighted that the case had been wrapped up so quickly. “Very well. Jacqueline Pattison, I’m arresting you for the attempted murder of, well, your son.”

  As he continued to read Jacqueline her rights, she stood up in silence, staring at Tom, tears still rolling down her eyes, perhaps trying to express some form of apology to him, but he merely turned his head away, his eyes fixed resolutely on the wall opposite.

  Mattison, who looked as floored by the revelation as Harrison felt, stood up and gently led Jacqueline out of the room with Gardiner following closely behind, leaving Harrison alone in the room with Tom.

  For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Then, when he realised that Jacqueline had been taken away, Tom’s eyes landed on Harrison.

  “Could you get the nurse for me? I’m pretty sure they should know that I’m awake.”

  “You’ve got a call button, get her yourself,” Harrison replied, crossing his arms.

  Tom sighed weakly and closed his eyes.

  “Thomas Frost?” Harrison said in disbelief. “Your father is Thomas Frost?”

  “Harrison, please.”

  “All this time you’ve been telling a serial killer all about the movements of my boyfriend? Everything he does, everywhere he goes, the fact that he’s in Manchester right now? What kind of sicko are you? He’s killed people, Tom, he’s an evil, sadistic, serial killer!”

  Tom groaned. “Please can you get the nurse?”

  Harrison shook his head incredulously, though he realised he was unlikely to get any particularly helpful answers out of Tom when he had only just regained consciousness. He walked slowly across the room and picked up the carrier bag he had brought, before lifting up the large lid of the bin in the corner of the room and dropping it inside. Then he turned back to Tom again, his eyes narrowed in fury. “I don’t know what twisted game you’ve had planned and I don’t know how the hell a woman as kind and as sweet and as quite frankly as far from you as it is possible to be as Jacqueline could be driven to doing what she did, but you know what? I can hardly blame her.” He leaned over Tom till he was inches away from his face, the anger pouring through him. “You better hope that nothing happens to Blake, otherwise you’ll have me to deal with. Cause you know what? The one thing we do have in common? We’ve both got murderers for parents. You know what they say, sick breeds sick. If anything happens to Blake, you’re going to find that out.”

  He was satisfied to see, beneath the grogginess, that Tom appeared unnerved. Before he could reply, Harrison had stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Once he was outside, he leant against the wall for a few moments to try and calm himself. He could think of no other moment in his life when he had felt so angry and so scared for somebody else’s safety as he did at that moment.

  “You alright, love?”

  Harrison jumped at the nurses’ voice who had just appeared by his side.

  “That policeman said that Tom was awake?”

  Harrison merely nodded.

  “That’s great news,” she said enthusiastically. “You must be delighted.”

  Harrison let out a humourless laugh. “Yeah. Thrilled. Excuse me, I’ve got to go.”

  Ignoring the nurse’s confused reply, Harrison strode out of the ward and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He needed to speak to Blake and inform him on what had happened over the past five minutes.

  Then, he saw the news alert that had come through while he had been in Tom’s room.

  ‘Serial killer Thomas Frost said to have escaped from police custody. Head of Strangeways prison: “We do not currently know where he is.” More to follow.’

  He stared at the screen, unable to comprehend the words. “He can’t have done,” he murmered. “No, no no….”

  His hands shaking, he found Blake’s number and rang it, striding down the stairs two at a time to keep his phone signal instead of taking the lift.

  “This is Blake Harte, I’m afraid I’m unable to answer your call right now…” began Blake’s voicemail message.

  Harrison let out a cry of frustration as he reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs and immediately rang Blake again.

  “This is Blake Harte, I’m afraid I’m unable to answer your call right now, so please leave your number and a quick message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Okay, cheers!”

  The cold air hit Harrison as he stormed out of the hospital towards the car park.


  “Blake, for God’s sake, ring me, it’s urgent.”

  As he hung up, he spotted Gardiner and Mattison putting Jacqueline in the back seat of the police car.

  “Matti!” he yelled.

  Mattison turned at the sound of Harrison’s voice and frowned as Harrison sprinted towards them.

  “You’ve got to take me back to Harmschapel with you,” Harrison said, panting as he arrived at the car.

  “Absolutely not,” Gardiner snapped. “This isn’t a taxi service, we have a suspect in the back of this car.”

  “She’s hardly going to attack me, is she?”

  “There are protocols to follow,” Gardiner continued pompously. “And it’s more than my job’s worth to –”

  “Will you shut up and listen?” Harrison exclaimed. “Look!”

  He found the news notification on his screen and thrust the phone into Mattison’s face.

  “Oh my God,” Mattison murmered, turning to Gardiner. “Frost has escaped from prison. He was being moved today, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, and he’s escaped from a prison in Manchester and that’s exactly where Blake is right now. You need to get me back to Harmschapel, I need to get some stuff together and I need to speak to Blake.”

  Gardiner scratched the back of his head and shuffled uncomfortably on the spot. “Look, Harrison, it’s not that I don’t sympathise–”

  “Good,” Harrison cut in as he tried to open the door to the back of the car.

  Mattison grabbed his arm and pulled him away. “Harrison, listen. It’s complicated, we…” His voice trailed off as he looked at Gardiner imploringly.

  “No,” Gardiner said sharply. “Out of the question, Mattison. This is a sensitive police investigation.”

  “He has a right to know!”

  “Know what?” Harrison asked. “Will you hurry up, Blake could be in danger!”

  “Sir?” Mattison said to Gardiner. “Come on. I know, it’s against all protocol, I know that. But this is Blake Harte we’re talking about, it’s his boyfriend.”

  “Mattison, just because he’s given you a sofa does not mean that you can just divulge all levels of a police operation!”