Blood Guilt

by Ben Cheetham

  “I’m not–” began Garrett, his voice rising. He stopped himself, took a breath and continued in a controlled voice, “I’m not talking about when you were on the job. I’m talking about since Ethan Reed’s abduction.”

  Harlan gave a wry inward smile. Garrett was usually a calm, competent interviewer, but something about Harlan got under his skin. It wasn’t hard to guess what that something was – Harlan had been one of Garrett’s protégées, fast-tracked through the ranks. He was supposed to be part of a new breed of detectives, someone who was as likely to solve a crime using a computer as they were chasing down suspects on the streets. Garrett had once regarded him as one of his greatest successes. Now the exact opposite was true. “In that case, the answer’s a definite no. So what’s happened to Jones?”

  “What makes you think something’s happened to him?”

  “Well it’s obvious something’s happened, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

  Garrett glanced at DI Greenwood. “Tell him.”

  Flipping open his statement pad, the detective recited, “Sometime between one and two AM last night a masked intruder broke into William Jones’s house. The intruder bound Mr Jones’s hands and feet, before questioning him about Ethan Reed’s abduction. When Mr Jones said he knew nothing about it, the intruder threatened to torture him. Mr Jones said again that he knew nothing, at which point the intruder left. At approximately five AM, Mr Jones managed to free himself from his bonds and phone the police.”

  “And you think I was the intruder.”

  “I don’t think, I know,” stated Garrett.

  “Really? How do you know? Where’s your evidence?”

  Garrett shot Greenwood another look, and the DI said, “Certain phrases the intruder used, in particular the way he referred to forensic evidence relating to Mr Jones’s conviction made him suspect that the intruder was, or had once been, a policeman.”

  With a look of incredulous surprise, Harlan’s gaze flicked between his interviewers. “Is that it? Is that you’re evidence?”

  “That’s all we have right now,” said Garrett, bending in close to Harlan. “But soon we’ll have more evidence. Hard evidence.”

  Harlan didn’t flinch from Garrett’s gaze. “I can see how embarrassing this must be for you. But what did you think would happen once the media got hold of Jones’s arrest? You might as well have painted a target on the guy’s back. Half this city’s out for his blood because of you. And now you want to make an example of someone, so that no one else dares touch him. I understand that. I’d do the same in your position. But I’m not the guy you’re after. Since we last talked, I’ve steered clear of everything to do with Ethan Reed’s abduction. I haven’t even followed the case on the TV.”

  As Harlan spoke, Garrett’s pink complexion deepened into an angry flush. “You’re right. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to nail you up for everyone in this city to see. Then I’m going to bury you so deep you won’t see the light of day for years. You’ve made a fool of me for the last time, Miller.”

  “Is that it? Are we done? Or are you going to arrest me?”

  “We’re done. For now. I could have your property searched, but I don’t suppose you’d be stupid enough to have left anything for us to find.”

  “I don’t suppose I would, if I had anything to do with this.”

  As Harlan stood to leave, Garrett added with a note of genuine sadness in his voice, “Do you know what the real shame of all this is? You were the brightest and best DI I ever had. I had such high hopes for you, Miller. Such high expectations. I gave you the opportunity to go as far as your ability could take you, but you threw it away.” He shook his head. “Such a waste.”

  A ripple disturbed the calm surface of Harlan’s face. “That’s what life is – a waste, a fucked up joke.”

  “If that’s really what you think, why bother going on?”

  “Sometimes I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  The two men stared at each other a few seconds more, then Harlan turned away. DI Greenwood escorted him from the station. “Do you want a lift home?”

  Harlan shook his head. He needed to walk and think about what he was going to say to Susan Reed. Besides which, he’d suddenly noticed how hungry he was. He set off in the direction of a nearby café he knew from his police days. As he rounded a corner, a hand touched his shoulder. He turned and saw that it belonged to Jim Monahan. “Christ, Harlan, tell me you didn’t do it,” he said.

  Harlan answered with silence.

  Jim’s face ruckled in dismay. “For fuck’s sake, have you lost your mind? Just what the hell were you trying to achieve? We questioned that nonce, Jones, for two days and got zip from him. What made you think you’d do any better?”

  Because I can do things the police can’t, thought Harlan, but he remained silent.

  “Jones is in hospital, you know.”

  Harlan’s heart gave a quick thump. It flashed through his mind that Jones might’ve suffered a heart attack or something, but he dismissed the thought – if that’d been the case, Garrett would’ve used it to try and get him to come clean. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  Jim shook his head. “A dislocated elbow.” He looked at Harlan as if trying to recollect a face he hadn’t seen for a long time. “What’s going on with you Harlan? Intimidation was never your bag.”

  “Who says it is now? Who says I had anything to do with what happened to Jones? Maybe I was at the flat all night, like I told Garrett.”

  “And maybe I was having dinner on the moon.” Jim sighed. “How did this happen? I mean, what made you do this? Just the other day Eve phoned to tell me how well you were doing. She sounded happier than she had in a very long time. She said the two of you were really making a go of things.”

  A familiar bite of guilt gnawed at Harlan. “Yeah well she was wrong. I was wrong too. I allowed myself to think I could be with her. But I can’t be. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

  “That’s just crazy talk, Harlan,” snapped Jim, a sudden anger flaring in his eyes. “Do you want to know something? That woman’s worth ten of you. I’d give up my job in a second for someone like her. And you’re gonna let the chance to be with her go by for what? So you can go on some insane hunt for a boy who’s already dead.”

  “You don’t know that. You don’t know for sure that he’s dead.”

  “Yes I do. And you do too, only you won’t admit it to yourself.”

  “Maybe, but it doesn’t really matter if he’s alive or dead – at least, not in the way you mean. This isn’t just about Ethan. It’s about the people who love him. One way or another, they need closure.”

  “And what makes you think you can give it to them? Come on, Harlan, you know how it is with cases like this. We might get a lucky break and catch the fucker who took Ethan or–”

  “Or you might never catch him,” interrupted Harlan. “Yeah, Jim, I know how it is.”

  “But that doesn’t make any difference to you, does it? You’re gonna keep at this until you’re in jail or dead, aren’t you?”

  Again, Harlan said nothing, but the fixed set of his jaw and the way he stared unflinchingly at Jim told his ex-partner all he needed to know. Jim heaved another sigh. “Okay, Harlan. You win. Look, I’ll tell you what, if you keep me in your loop, I’ll do the same.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because if I can’t talk you out of this, I might as well use you. Besides, I’d rather you come to me than pull another stunt like last night.”

  “What about Garrett?”

  Jim smiled. “You know what Garrett can go do.”

  A thin smile played on Harlan’s lips too. “Okay. Maybe between us we can solve this thing.”

  “Maybe.” Jim sounded unconvinced. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the police station. “Listen, we’ll be seen if we talk here much longer. Let’s go somewhere where we can pick each other’s brains.”

  Harlan was about to say okay, but his tho
ughts returned with a falling sensation to Susan Reed. “Some other time. There’s something I need to do.”

  “Just do me a favour and try to keep a low profile for a few days. Garrett’s spitting blood about what happened to Jones. He knows he fucked up releasing Jones’s name to the press, and he’s desperate to make an example of someone.”

  “I’ll try.” Harlan held his hand out, and when Jim took it, he said, “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” Jim paused a breath, before adding meaningfully, “partner.”

  Harlan smiled again at the word. “I’ll see you.” His hunger forgotten for now, he made his way along the street until he saw a phone-box. He called Susan Reed. She picked up instantly, as if she’d been waiting by the phone.

  “I heard what happened. Mr Garrett sent a couple of his detectives to see me. Don’t worry, I stayed right here all night with Kane, just like you told me to.” Susan’s tone was breathless with eager inquiry. “What did you find out?”

  There wasn’t much to tell, but what there was Harlan was unwilling to say over the phone. “Let’s meet and I’ll tell you.”

  “Okay. Where?”

  Harlan thought for a moment, then said, “Tom’s Café.” It was a grotty little backstreet greasy-spoon where he used to meet his informants. He’d used the place because of its privacy and because its name was a reminder of something that was innocent and worth preserving, worth fighting for. He hadn’t been there since Tom’s death. “Do you know it?”

  “No.”

  Harlan described where the café was. “Do you think you can find it?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll find it.”

  “I’ll see you there in half-an-hour or so.”

  Harlan headed to the café. He watched carefully for any sign that he was being followed, but there was none. Just in case, he went into a busy indoor market, weaved his way quickly between the stalls and dodged out of a side entrance. When he got to the café, he ordered a fried breakfast and wolfed it down while he waited for Susan. As usual, the place was empty except for a few shady-looking characters and a craggy-faced old guy behind the counter who’d been a permanent fixture as long as Harlan had been going there.

  Harlan had just finished eating when Susan turned up. To his dismay, she wasn’t alone. Her boyfriend, Neil Price, was with her. Harlan took in Price’s cheap, baggy clothing and even cheaper haircut as, holding hands like teenage lovers, the two of them sat down opposite him. Up close, Price looked both younger and older than he had done on the television. The watery blue of his eyes, which blinked nervously at Harlan from behind thick lenses, was lined with red. And the surrounding flesh was tired, grey and marked with crow’s feet – no doubt, the result of years spent working nights. But the awkward way he held himself and the ratty fuzz of hair on his chin and upper lip gave Harlan the impression of an adolescent desperately trying to be an adult.

  Frowning hard, Harlan shifted his attention to Susan. “I told you to come alone.”

  “You can trust Neil,” she assured him.

  “I don’t give a toss if I can trust him. He shouldn’t be here. I thought you understood, this was supposed to be between just you and me.” Harlan released an angry breath. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t get up and walk out of here right now.”

  Susan’s eyes swelled with alarm. “Please don’t.”

  “I’m here because Susan needs support,” said Neil, his voice reedy and tremulous. He tried to hold Harlan’s gaze, but his eyes dropped to the table after a few seconds.

  Harlan scrutinised Neil, wondering what Susan saw in him. He didn’t seem her type at all – his nervy demeanour and thin, gangly frame were about as dissimilar from her husband as could be. Maybe that was it, he reflected. Maybe, consciously or unconsciously, she’d gone for someone who wouldn’t stir up bad memories every time she looked at him. Harlan sighed, his anger fading a little in the face of Neil’s timidity. “Wait outside.”

  “There’s no point.” Neil worked up enough courage to look briefly at Harlan. “We don’t keep any secrets from each other.”

  Harlan shifted his gaze to Susan. “Either he leaves or I do.”

  “Do as he says, Neil,” she said.

  A look of hurt flashed over Neil’s face, but he removed his hand from hers and obediently headed for the door. Harlan let out a long breath through his nose. “I hope you’re right about him.”

  “I am.” Susan bent forward, her voice dropping. “So what happened with Jones?” Her mouth twisted as if the name had a bitter taste that made her want to spit.

  “We’ll get to that in a moment. First I want ask you a couple of question about Neil.”

  Susan made an impatient gesture. “The coppers have already asked me a thousand questions about him, and I’ll tell you what I told them – Neil hasn’t got anything to do with any of this.”

  “You realise he fits the classic profile of a potential abductor – white male, early thirties, unskilled–”

  “Yeah, I know,” cut in Susan. “But I also know that he’s the kindest, sweetest man I’ve ever met. He couldn’t hurt a fly.” Susan glanced at Neil, who was leant with his back to the window, hands thrust in his pockets, staring at the pavement. “I mean, for Christ’s sake, look at him. He jumps at his own shadow. Do you really think he could’ve taken my Ethan?”

  Harlan had to admit that Price looked about as harmless as they come, but he also knew that appearances could deceive, that the sheep could turn out to be a wolf. “Where did you meet him?”

  Susan heaved a sigh. “At the hospital a couple of years ago. Ethan got ill – some kind of blood infection. He was in hospital for a week. Neil was a porter on his ward. He looked out for Ethan. He looked out for all the kids. Brought them comics from his collection. Anyway, one day we got talking and, well, things just kind of happened.” A note of some old guilt entered Susan’s voice. “Not that I was looking for a relationship, or anything. Neil’s the first man I’ve been with since…since…” She trailed off.

  “Where does he live?” Harlan asked quickly, as reluctant to hear the name on Susan’s tongue as she was to say it.

  “With his parents over on Manor Lane.”

  “What number?”

  Susan told him, adding, “He’s saving to buy a place of his own.”

  Harlan wasn’t in the least surprised to learn that Price still lived with his parents. It was written all over his thirty-year-old teenager’s face. “So he’s got money of his own.”

  “Well he’s not with me for my money, is he?” There was a sharp, ironic edge to Susan’s voice.

  “What I mean is, does he live off his parents?”

  “More like the other way around. His dad’s an unemployed brickie and his mum’s a dinner lady at Ethan’s school.”

  Harlan’s eyebrows lifted at this. It was a seemingly small thing, but as the cliché went, the Devil was often in the details. “What are his parents’ names?”

  “George and Sandra.”

  “Did Sandra know Ethan before you and Neil got together?”

  “She knew him to look at, if not to talk to.” Susan blew out her breath in frustration. “Look, Neil’s got an alibi, right. He was working the night Ethan was taken. On top of which, the sicko that took my baby boy is dark haired and about your height and build. If you hadn’t noticed, Neil’s over six foot, blond and weighs about nine stone soaking wet.”

  “Maybe he’s got an accomplice.”

  “An accomplice? And just who the hell might that be?” Susan’s raised voice barely drew a glance from the other customers – Tom’s Café was a place where people knew to mind their own business.

  “Does he have any friends?”

  “Yeah. Brian and Dave who he plays darts with down The Three Tuns.”

  Harlan recognised the pub’s name vaguely from his days on the beat. “Anyone else?”

  “Some old schoolmates he sees occasionally. No one important.”

  “Everyone’s important in a ca
se like this. Everyone and every detail. That’s how to crack a case, by finding that one tiny little piece of the puzzle.”

  “I know, but I’ve been through all this dozens of times before with Mr Garrett’s lot. And they’ve spoken to Neil and everyone he knows, and found nothing to make them think he’s got anything to do with this.”

  “I understand, and I know how hard this is for you. But if I’m going to have any chance of finding Ethan, I need to build up a complete picture of your life. And the only way I can do that is by asking the same questions the police asked.”

  “I didn’t come to you so you could ask those questions. I came–” Susan broke off, her eyes flitting around the café. She continued more quietly, but no less vehemently, “I came to you because you can do things the coppers can’t. So come on, out with it. What happened? What did you find out?”

  “A couple more questions. Then we’ll get to Jones. How is Neil with Ethan and Kane?”

  “He’s great. And before you ask, no he’s never done or said anything inappropriate. He’s a good, decent man. Do you hear? I know he comes over as kind of immature, but let me tell you this, there’s a shit lot of so-called real men out there who’d run a mile from a woman like me.”

  “And there are also men out there who specifically go for women with young children.”

  “Enough!” Susan brought her hands down on the table hard enough to make the crockery jump. “I won’t hear another word against Neil. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t think I’d have made it through these past few weeks. And I won’t answer another of your questions until you tell me what fuckin’ well happened last night.”

  Harlan guessed Susan wouldn’t be in any kind of mood to answer his questions even once he’d told her what she was so desperate to know. But he saw that he’d pushed her as far as he could. She sat glaring at him, eyes wide and intense, little tremors of pent-up, barely contained pressure running through her body. He took a breath and came out with it. “I don’t think Jones is involved in Ethan’s abduction.”

  “Not involved,” Susan said slowly, as if she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. “How do you know he’s not involved?”