Ben Cheetham - Blood Guilt

“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 case 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 cafe. 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?”

“Well for one thing, he doesn’t fit the profile. He’s too old, too cautious. For another, he doesn’t fit the physical description.”

“Yeah, but like you said, there might be an accomplice.” As Harlan shook his head, Susan continued insistently, “It’s possible though, isn’t it?”

“It’s possible, but I don’t think it’s the case.”

“Why? If you’re willing to suspect someone like Neil, then why not a pervert like Jones?”

Harlan sighed. “I’m sorry, but I…well, I just don’t believe Jones is our man.”

Susan frowned, picking up on Harlan’s hesitation. “You still haven’t told me what happened last night. Not really.”

“You know what happened. I went to Jones’s house and questioned him.”

“Yeah, but did you do it like I asked you to? Did you make him tell you the truth?” When Harlan gave no reply, the lines on Susan’s forehead intensified. “You didn’t, did you?”

“I questioned him thoroughly.”

Susan dismissed Harlan’s words with a contemptuous hiss. “The coppers questioned him thoroughly. They questioned the shit out of him for two days and got nothing. I wanted you to do more than just ask questions. That was the whole reason I came to you for help.”

“I know.”

“So why didn’t you do it?”

Harlan blinked as the image of Robert Reed lying on the snowy, blood-stained ground flashed through his mind. “I did what was necessary.”

“No you fucking didn’t. Not unless you beat that bastard until he was nearly dead.”

“I…I…” Harlan stumbled over his words, as if he were struggling to make a shameful admission. At last he spoke in a sudden rush. “I couldn’t do it.”

Susan rose from her seat, white with rage. “Oh, so you could kill my Robby, but you can’t hurt that filthy paedo!”

This time Susan’s savage words were enough to draw glances, even in that place. Harlan raised his hands as if to say, calm down, but his gesture only angered her more. “You know what you are?” she hissed. “You’re a coward. A sick, twisted coward!”

“Sit back down.”

“Fuck you.”

“Please, let’s talk some more.”

“I’ve got nothing left to say to you.” Susan’s voice dropped a tone, but remained taut with emotion. “Not unless you’ll go back there, back to that fucker’s house and do what I asked.”

The suggestion was enough to make Harlan’s pulse beat in his throat. “Even if I agreed to do that, I wouldn’t be able to get near him. The police will be watching his house. Garrett can’t afford for anything else to happen to him. His reputation’s on the line.”

“So don’t go to his house. Get him when he goes shopping or whatever. I don’t give a toss how you do it, just do it.”

“This isn’t the way to go. There are other avenues, other lines of investigation I-”

“No. This is the way, and this is the only way for you. Do you fucking-” Susan’s voice caught in her throat. Tears swelled into her eyes. Her lower lip trembled briefly. Then she got hold of herself and continued, “Do you understand?”

Harlan stared at Susan with a kind of pleading in his eyes, but her resolve didn’t waver. His body leaden with anxiety, he nodded. She frowned at him a few seconds, as if trying to work out whether or not she believed him. Then she turned and hurried from the cafe into Neil’s arms. Her self-control crumbling like a sandcastle in front of a wave, she pressed her face against his shoulder and sobbed. Neil shot Harlan a glance that almost dared to be angry. This time it was Harlan who dropped his gaze to the tabletop. When he looked up a minute or so later, Susan and Neil were gone.

Noticing how dry his mouth was, Harlan swilled back the dregs of his coffee. He approached the counter and held up fifty-quid. “If anyone asks…” He trailed off meaningfully.

“I never heard nothin’,” grunted the man behind the counter.

Harlan handed him the money and left. Head lowered in thought, he made his way slowly along the quiet street. He imagined himself beating Jones with the truncheon until his flesh was a pulpy mass and blood oozed from his face. He began to feel light-headed, dizzy. Susan’s bitter words echoed in his ears. You’re a coward. A sick, twisted coward.

Maybe she’s right, thought Harlan. Maybe that’s what I am. A sick, twisted coward without the courage to do what needs to be done, without the courage to live, without the courage even to end my own misery.

Harlan didn’t hear the fast-approaching footsteps until they were right behind him. Before he could turn to see who they belonged to, something hit the back of his head hard enough to stagger him. White sparks exploding silently in front of his eyes, he flung up his arms to shield his head. A second blow deflected off his forearm, sending an electric current of pain up to his shoulder. A third found its way through to his skull, connecting with an ugly, hollow sound, buckling his knees. As he went down, he managed to drop his shoulder and roll away from his attacker. Through a haze of tears, he saw a baseball-bat wielding figure loom over him. Even dazed as he was, he made a mental note of his attacker’s physical characteristics — five foot five or six, medium build, wearing baggy blue jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt with the hood up. A scarf was wrapped around the lower half of the figure’s face, so that all Harlan could see was a pair of eyes — young-looking, hazel-brown eyes so swollen with hate they seemed ready to pop out.