Ben Cheetham - Blood Guilt

Harlan frowned up at the boy. “Let me get this straight, you’re saying the man who fixed the roof two years ago is the man who took Ethan.”

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure?”

“’Cos there was the same smell then that there is now. It’s the smell I smelt on the man I saw in my bedroom. You’ve got to believe me. It’s him. He’s the one! He’s the one!”

Harlan held up a hand, palm outwards. “Okay, I believe you.” As soon as he said it, he realised he meant it. Suddenly the puzzle made sense. The smell, that was the missing piece. It was so elusive that only chance could’ve found it, so intangible that it couldn’t not be believed. That was why Nash had agreed to cooperate with the line-up, not out of some sense of guilt or some warped way of apologising to Mary Webster, but because he had no fear of further incriminating himself or Jones. He hadn’t abducted Ethan. This man, the roofer, he was the one. And Neil had brought him here. All the doubts and questions about Neil came rushing back to the surface of Harlan’s mind. Was he involved after all? And if he was, what the hell was this all about? Was it a sexual thing? No, if it was then he’d already got what he was after. He wouldn’t be pleading with Susan to take him back. As far as Harlan could see, that left only one possibility: money. If Neil was part of this, it had to be about money. Harlan suddenly found himself hoping with everything he had that Neil was part of it, because if he was, if he and this roofer had cooked up some plan to get their hands on the reward, surely that meant Ethan was still alive. “Do you remember the man’s name?”

“I was never told it.” Kane’s anxiously rounded eyes scanned Harlan’s features. “What you gonna do?”

In reply, Harlan took out his phone and dialled Jim. His ex-partner’s voice came wearily through the phone. “What is it, Harlan? I told you I’d phone if-”

“I don’t think Nash took Ethan,” interrupted Harlan.

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course he did. Why are you saying this now when we’re so close to cracking the case?”

Harlan told Jim why. Jim considered what he’d heard a brief moment, then he said, “I don’t buy it. You’re talking about a relatively common smell. Something thousands of people come into contact with every day.”

“So you’re saying this is a coincidence.”

“I…” Jim trailed off into a sigh. “Okay, point taken. I’ll have someone look into this. What’s the guy’s name?”

“I don’t know, but I can find out.”

“Well get back to me when you do. But understand this, Harlan, most of our resources are tied up investigating Nash and Jones, so it may take a few days to get round to following this up.”

“Don’t give me that, Jim. You owe me.”

“I know, and I trust your instincts more than my own. But I need more than what you’re telling me if I’m going to convince Garrett to pull manpower off our prime suspects and put them on this.”

“Fine.” Harlan’s voice rose with irritation. “You need more, I’ll fucking get it.”

“Don’t be like that-”

Harlan hung up on Jim mid-sentence. He looked at Kane. “I want you to go to your bedroom.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. And no matter what you hear, don’t come down here unless I call you. Understand?”

With sullen reluctance, Kane nodded and turned to head upstairs. Harlan dialled Susan. She answered within a ring. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“I just wondered where you are.” Harlan kept his voice carefully neutral. If Susan picked up on his anxiety, there was a good chance Neil would too. And he didn’t want to do anything that might put Neil on his guard.

“I’m heading back now. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Susan’s voice sounded different — lighter, stronger. Harlan guessed that she’d done more than merely listen to Neil, she’d bought what he was selling.

“Is Neil still with you?”

“Yes. Why?”

“No reason. I’ll see you soon.” Harlan hung up and went through to the kitchen. He opened the cutlery drawer, chose a sharp knife with a four-inch blade and slipped it into the pocket of his tracksuit bottoms.

Harlan was hunting through the cupboards for string or selotape or anything else he could use, if necessary, to bind Neil’s wrists, when the sound of the front door opening drew his attention. Susan and Neil were holding hands now. Neil was doing his best to look grave, but there was a kind of excitability about his manner, as if he could barely contain his elation at being given a second chance. Susan looked better too. For the first time in days, there was some real colour in her cheeks. Harlan felt a pang of regret that once again he was going to shake not only her trust in Neil, but her faith in her ability as a mother. If Neil did turn out to be involved, she’d probably never be able to let a man into her life again. That’d be a tiny price to pay, though, for Ethan’s safe return.

Susan led Neil into the kitchen. “So you’ve decided to give it another go,” Harlan said, stating the obvious, not wanting to rush in with questions that might put Neil on his guard.

Susan nodded, giving Harlan a sheepish look, as if she wasn’t sure how he’d react to the news. “People might say I’m a fool for giving him a second chance, and maybe I am, but…well, the thing is…” She trailed off awkwardly.

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”

“I know, but I feel I owe you an explanation. Everything that’s happened this past couple of months, the way Neil’s been there for me, it’s really made me realise just how much he means to me. I don’t want to lose that, not on top of everything else I’ve lost.” She gave Neil a glance. “I understand now why he lied to me. And he understands that if he ever does it again, it’s over. No more chances.”

“I won’t need another chance,” Neil said. “I promise on my life.” He held out a hand to Harlan. “Sorry about before.”

“No need.” Harlan took Neil’s hand. He held it longer than was necessary, staring searchingly into Neil’s eyes. They were weak looking eyes. The eyes of someone who lacked self-esteem, someone who might be easily led. Not the eyes of a hardened criminal.

Blinking, Neil pulled his hand free.

Susan glanced at the ceiling, her mind suddenly elsewhere. “How’s he been?” Harlan told Susan about Kane’s nightmare. Her face wrinkled with concern. “Maybe I should go see him.”

“I wouldn’t. I think he’s sleeping.” Casually, as if as an afterthought, Harlan added, “The wall seems to be drying out.”

“What wall?” asked Neil.

“The roof started leaking again where your mate…What was his name?” asked Susan.

Perfect, thought Harlan, she’s doing the job for me.

Neil hesitated to reply. The faintest ripple of a frown crossed his forehead, but it was impossible to tell whether the question had sparked a flame of unease or he was merely searching his memory. “Martin Yates.”

Susan clicked her fingers. “Martin Yates. That was it. We had to call a roofer out today to fix his botch job.”

“Have you got his phone number?” Harlan asked Neil.

“Why?”

“I’m thinking about ringing the guy to ask for Susan’s money back.”

“I haven’t got his number. He was just some bloke I played darts with a couple of times. It’s been over a year since I last saw him.”

“There’s no need to talk to Martin,” said Susan, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if she was wondering whether there was more to Harlan’s question than the surface of his words indicated. “Like I said, he did the roof on the cheap. I’m lucky it’s lasted as long as it has.”