by Ben Cheetham
Harlan’s gaze returned to Kane. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions about the night Ethan was taken?”
“No,” said Kane, without taking his eyes from the screen. “But I dunno what I can tell you that I haven’t already told the cops.”
“Did the man who took Ethan sound like he was from around here?”
Kane shrugged. “He just sounded like a man.”
“Did you notice anything about him other than his voice?”
“Yeah, his wrists. They were really hairy.”
“Anything else? Did he smell of anything? Did his clothes or breath smell?”
“Yeah, he had this weird smell.”
“How do you mean, weird?”
Kane gave another shrug.
“Was it like cigarettes or alcohol?”
“I dunno what it was like, but it made my throat tickle. The cops got me to smell loads of different things. Paints and other stuff, but none of them had the smell I smelt.”
Harlan was about to inquire further about the smell, but his phone rang. He snatched it out, and a flush of adrenaline went through his veins when he saw Jim’s name. He pressed the phone to his ear. “Please tell me he’s talked.”
“He’s talked,” said Jim.
A hiss of relief escaped Harlan’s lips, drawing a curious look from Kane. “Thank fuck.”
“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? Is 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.”
He ducked into the car. Susan didn’t open her eyes. Still gripping her hand, Kane sat hunched down in the backseat as if trying to hide from someone. As the car pulled away from the station, it started raining.
Chapter 20
The journey passed in silence, except for the continuous drumming of the rain on the roof. When they arrived at Susan’s house, without a word, she got out, pulling Kane after her. Harlan followed her into the living-room. She slumped into the armchair and closed her eyes again. Kane stood staring at her, as if he wanted to say something, maybe to make her feel better, or maybe to seek reassurance himself. “Mum,” he said, with a tentative tremor. No response. He tried again. “Mum.” Still no response. His lips quivered, his forehead tied itself into a knot. “It’s not my fault,” he yelled, jerking around and running upstairs. A door slammed, music began to thump against the ceiling.
Harlan lowered himself onto the sofa and was reminded by a jolt of pain that it was time for his pills. As he swallowed them dry, he wondered what Kane had meant: that it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t recognised Nash’s voice, or that it wasn’t his fault Ethan had been abducted. Either was possible. After all, he might feel a coward for not trying to stop the kidnapper. Harlan was about to head upstairs and try to reassure Kane that he had nothing to feel guilty about, when Susan said, “What if Kane’s right? What if Nash isn’t the one?”
“He’s the one.”
Susan opened her eyes and looked at Harlan with piercing intensity. “How can you be certain?”
“I can’t,” he admitted. “All I can do is trust what the evidence and my instincts are telling me.”
Susan heaved a breath, and a soul-destroying weariness came into her eyes as she glanced at the ceiling. “I’d better go talk to him.”
“It�
��s alright. I’ll go. Close your eyes, get some rest.”
Susan started to frown, but she was too exhausted to inquire as to what made Harlan think Kane would speak to him. She merely made a sound as if to say, rest? How the hell can I rest?
One hand pressed against his throbbing wound, Harlan climbed the stairs and knocked on Kane’s door. The boy’s voice rose over the music. “Go away!”
“It’s me, Harlan.”
There was a moment’s hesitation. Then the music went off and the door opened. Kane had his wannabe tough guy face on – a face that made him look uncannily like his father. “What do you want?”
“Just to talk. Make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?”
“You seemed upset.”
“Yeah I was, ’cos she,” Kane stabbed a finger at the floor, “doesn’t believe me about that man not being the one who took Ethan. None of you do.”
“It’s not that we don’t believe you. It’s just that you were very scared when your brother was taken.” Seeing a frown form on Kane’s face, Harlan added quickly, “And there’s nothing to be ashamed of in that. Anybody would’ve been. But what you’ve got to understand is, fear does strange things to people. It makes them see and hear things differently.”
An angry vein popped out on Kane’s forehead. “There’s nothin’ wrong with my hearing. It wasn’t fuckin’ him!”
