Ben Cheetham - The Society of Dirty Hearts

Julian watched Jake disappear into the darkness of the trees. Then, his mind whirring, he returned to the car. It was obvious some great fear had been put into Jake. What shape that fear took was less obvious. Even if you tried to strip away the bravado, Jake didn’t strike Julian as someone easily frightened by threats to himself. In which case his fear must relate to a threat to someone else. And that someone was surely Mia. Which meant she was alive — alive but with Mr X holding the power of life and death over her. What gave him that power? Perhaps, thought Julian, it’s a debt over drugs — heroin, most likely — and he’s keeping her as a sex-slave until it’s paid off. She’d claimed she didn’t use, but junkies weren’t exactly known for being truthful. Maybe those cuts on her arms hid needle marks. Yes, that was it. The pieces suddenly seemed to be falling into place in his mind. At first, Mia had used Mr X to get money for junk. But now he was using her, and he’d keep using her until she was all used up. And then what? Would he fling her into the river for real or — as perhaps he’d promised Jake — would he let her go? Whatever, Julian knew he had to do something. Jake might’ve been hardened by his upbringing to accept, even embrace the darker side of life, but the thought of Mia playing the daughter to one more sicko made Julian want to throw up and scream and cry all at once. The grim memorial under the bridge was clearly a cry for help, and he was going to do everything in his power to give her the help she needed.

Julian took out Tom Benson’s card. He stared at it uncertainly a few seconds, before returning it to his pocket. Assuming Mr X did have Mia, getting the police involved might force him to carry out his threat. No, somehow, someway, he’d have to do this himself. A shadow of fear passed across his face, leaving behind a tight mask of resolution. He ducked into the car and jerked the wheel. The vehicle lurched forward, heading back into the heart of the forest. He barely let up on the accelerator even when he turned onto the lane, fearing his nerve might give way. He drove right up to the gate. The security-light was still on, illuminating an intercom box on one of the gateposts. As Julian got out of the car, a Doberman ran up to the gate and pushed its muzzle between the bars, barking. Eyeing it warily, he pressed the intercom button. After a moment, the intercom crackled to life, but no voice came over it.

Julian spoke into it, trying without success to keep emotion out of his voice and sound business-like. “I know you’ve got Mia.” He knew no such thing, of course, but he figured the bluff was worth a shot. “If she owes you money, I’m willing to pay it. I can get however much you need.” That wasn’t strictly true, but his dad had offered to buy him a new car, so he knew he could get his hands on several thousand. And if the debt was more than that he had a laptop, a PC, a stereo and plenty of other things he could sell. “I promise I won’t get the police involved.” He glanced up at the CCTV camera, waiting futilely for a reply. The silence coming over the intercom was palpable. The dog rolled its eyes at him, tongue lolling and head nodding, as though amused. He spoke into the box again. “Okay, I’m going, but my offer stands. Think it over and I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He ducked into the car, agonising over whether he’d done the right thing. Like bollocks you have, nagged an inner voice, all you’ve done is put Mia in more danger. He pushed the voice away, saying out loud, “Relax, you can do this. It’s just business, that’s all.” The whole way home, he kept repeating the words over and over, as if they were a mantra to ward off evil. They snagged in his throat when he saw Tom Benson waiting at the end of the driveway. The thought flashed through his mind that he was wrong about Mr X having Mia, that they’d dragged her out of the river. He lowered the window and asked with a sharp, metallic anxiety, “What is it? Have you found her?”

Tom Benson shook his head. Julian had no time to feel relieved as, getting into the passenger seat, the detective said, “We need to talk. And you’d better be ready to do some serious explaining. We received a call tonight about an attempted break-in at a house out on The Old Forest Road. The homeowner heard someone trying to jimmy a window. He tried to apprehend the intruder, who was…” He flipped open a notepad and read from it, “a boy of about fifteen or sixteen, slim build, shaved head. But after a struggle, the intruder managed to get away. A car was caught on CCTV at the scene.” He patted the dashboard. “This car.”

Julian knew the game was up — he’d known it from the instant Tom Benson opened his mouth. So, heaving a sigh, he just plunged in and told him everything about Jake, Ginger and Mr X. “Christ,” said the policeman, when Julian was finished. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about Mia, about saving her life.”

“You should’ve come to us.”

“I wanted to, but if Mr X-”

Tom Benson cut Julian off with a snort of impatience. “There’s no such person as Mr X.”

“But Ginger-”

“Ginger’s a lying, conniving, junkie who’d tell you anything to save her worthless hide.”

“No, she was telling the truth. How else would she know that house was there?”

“Maybe she didn’t, maybe she was just looking for an opportunity to get away.”

Julian sat in frowning silence. Could the detective be right? It didn’t take him long to admit that he could well be. After all, why else would Mr X, or whatever his name was, have contacted the police? Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to accept the possibility. Sure, Ginger probably hadn’t told him the whole truth, but the fear he’d seen in her eyes, and in Jake’s, had been genuine. He felt certain of it. “So who lives at that house?”

“A businessman.”

“What’s his name?”

“I can’t tell you that. He’s a law-abiding citizen with a right to privacy.”

“How do you know he’s law-abiding? Have you been and checked him out?”

“That’s where I’m heading as soon as I’ve finished with you.” Tom Benson sighed, looking across at Julian with something approaching sympathy. “Look, I know it’s easier to believe in Mr X than face up to the possibility that Mia Bradshaw’s killed herself, but I’m telling you Ginger fed you a line of horseshit. I’ll tell you something else, too. And I’m only going to tell you it one more time. Withholding information from the police is a criminal offence. So if you’ve got anything else to say…” He let the sentence hang like a threat.

“The only thing I have to say is, you’re wrong about Ginger lying. Mr X exists.”

Tom Benson shook his head in exasperation. “You don’t seem to realise the trouble you’re in, Julian. You have any idea the charges you could be facing? Breaking and entering, assault, kidnapping. By rights I should be taking you to jail. The only reason I’m not is because I know you did all this to try and save a young girl’s life. Now, when I speak to the man whose house you and Jake broke into tonight I’ll explain that to him, and maybe he won’t press charges. And when I find Ginger I’ll try and convince her not to press charges either.” The detective’s features grew grim. “But if you persist with this Mr X nonsense, if you continue to harass this man, I’ll be forced to arrest you. Do you understand? Am I getting through that stubborn head of yours?”

Julian nodded. “Will you call me after you’ve spoken to Mr…to the businessman?”

“Sure.” Tom Benson got out of the car. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and if you see Jake Bradshaw again, make sure the next thing you do is call me.”