S White - Hermit

‘I don’t know what kind of mental damage it would do to Whittler, seeing that.’ Dana pictured the regularity of it, the drip-feed of horror and control. ‘The insulin went on for nearly twelve months before Whittler left home. Plus, the years of bullying and domination that preceded it. That kind of abusive behaviour and imagery usually leads to some numbing, some habituation.’

In moments like these she was convinced her guilt and her pain were carved across her features. She was always amazed that they apparently weren’t. Parents and pain, parents and humiliation, parents and guilt, years of drenching misery, feeling constantly off balance and waiting for the air to chill: she and Nathan had a disturbing amount in common.

The pain in her knee spiked.

‘Yeah, maybe it’s less about the trauma at the time…’ Mike held his hands open, as if his statement explained itself, but Dana frowned. Mike had to expand the point, when usually he wouldn’t need to: it confirmed his view that she was tiring badly.

‘I meant,’ he continued, ‘as you say, he’d try to compartmentalise it. He wouldn’t deal with it fully, he’d run and hide from it. His modus operandi, right? But out there, in the cave year after year, he’d surely have to come back to it again and again. That’s when he’d process it: when he’s isolated, with no professional help, turning it over in his mind. You can come to some pretty hideous conclusions that way.’

Mike had made a good observation, she thought: the impact of the freezings would be in the long term. There was no point trying to work out how Nathan felt about those things while he was at home; the key was how it had made him feel recently. She was guessing the chief emotion was humiliation. An ongoing humiliation that he’d counteracted by removing himself and hiding – Nathan had an acute sense of shame and this would weigh heavily. He would feel that he’d been feeble, that he’d failed, that he’d let down his parents; above all, he’d been weak and supine. And now he knew he could never gain their forgiveness. It was a dark, potentially fatal mix.

She asked Mike to wait while she checked with Custody that they had a uniform watching through the glass of the Lecter Theatre. She was told they had; Doc Butler would begin a psych evaluation in six minutes’ time.

Mollified – or at least believing that Nathan couldn’t take his own life right now – she turned back to Mike.

‘So, how do you expect big brother to behave this time?’

Mike shifted in his seat. ‘Jeb was fine with me earlier. But he was fishing then; looking for a way in and coming off as Mr Reasonable. I just saw him waiting in reception and he’s busting – all bets are off. He must be worried we’ve talked to Whittler enough to get the insulin story out of him; or he thinks he needs to see Whittler and threaten him into silence about it. Not wishing to white-knight or anything, but we could do a two-hander on him?’

‘Yes, Bill suggested that. I’m not against it, but I’d rather keep it in reserve, or for a third run. If what we’ve just heard is correct, Jeb’s the worst kind of bully. He’ll be complacent against someone he regards as too delicate to undo him. That might be a way in.’

Mike wasn’t convinced. Maybe Jeb would become loose-lipped and give something away, or he might feel manipulated or angry that he’d let something slip. If he became aggressive, Dana would be in the firing line.

‘Look: amateur risk assessment. According to his brother – and he’s seen it first hand – Jeb is a psychotic wingnut who can and does explode whenever things don’t go his way. He relishes pain and control. Could turn ugly if he feels he’s losing. He’s built like a… well, built pretty big. You hit that panic button fast if you’re unsure. Don’t take any risks.’

‘With this knee? Everywhere with stairs is a risk. I’m like a Dalek.’ She dropped her smile. ‘I hear you. I’ll be a good girl, promise.’

Mike could see her reasoning: Jeb might well talk more freely if he was trying to push Dana around. But it was sticking her hand in a lion’s mouth, hoping for a reward.

Rainer knocked on the door and stood rigidly at the threshold.

‘Rainer, you can come in. I’m only talking to Mikey.’

Mike pouted. ‘Yet I cherish every moment of our speaking, m’lady. I’m slighted. I’m getting a chocolate bar as comfort food for my battered soul and I’m not offering to buy you one. So there.’

She grinned and shook her head as Rainer sat.

‘Ah, creative types and their theatrical egos. Sorry, Rainer. No adult should have to witness such things. What have you found out about big brother?’

Rainer opened a pristine clipboard, like a student on the first day of the academic year.

‘You asked me to focus on financial and legal. Well, it seems all the bank accounts and property deeds for the family transferred to Jeb in 1990. Jeb was plenty old enough by then – nineteen. The lawyer I spoke to said it was dressed up as an early transfer to minimise tax issues. He was uneasy about it, but said it was all perfectly legal and watertight.’

‘Uneasy because?’

‘Well, he knew the family a little and found it odd that Nathan had been cut out entirely. I mean, this effectively ended any claim Nathan had over the family assets, so it was a bit of a coup for Jeb.’ Rainer flicked to the second page. ‘Also, he found the family atmosphere creepy, he said. Couldn’t put a finger on it: only that something was wrong.’

‘Well, he was spot on with that, though maybe not how he thought. It put all the money into one pair of hands: another reason for the brothers’ friction. Anything else?’

Rainer checked his notes again, although she had no doubt he knew exactly what was written there. ‘In 2005 Jeb used the farm as collateral for a business loan. He was renting scaffolding to small building firms, then expanded into steel-frame buildings, which is his main business now.’

‘Hmm… he started that business soon after Whittler left.’

Rainer shrugged. ‘By local reputation, Jeb’s a fairly straight shooter who’s been remarkably successful in facing down local unions. Seems he doesn’t get the usual kind of intimidation they hand out at other building sites.’

‘Uh-huh. And no evidence of any financial or legal transactions with Lou Cassavette?’

‘No. I double-checked: but no, not as such. However…’

‘Go on, spill it before you burst.’

‘Lucy sent me to the old farm, where the Whittlers used to live? It’s an equestrian centre now and the new owners never met the Whittler parents – they bought direct from Jeb. But the owner said he saw Jeb Whittler a few weeks ago, at Jensen’s Store. Chatting with Lou Cassavette. “Two peas in a pod,” he said. Didn’t hear what they were talking about, but he said they probably knew each other from the business club.’

Dana sat back.

‘So Jeb knows the victim, and he’s recently been to the crime scene. Wow.’

It presented a quandary. When, or even if, should she bring out that knowledge when she interviewed Jeb? Was it a trump card she should hold back? Maybe it would be better to play it while Jeb was off guard.

‘That’s a real coup, Rainer, well done. Could you follow up with the business club?’

‘Already tried. They’re closed today – repainting. The secretary’s hiking somewhere in the national park. I’m on duty tomorrow so I can chase any further details then: there’s a meeting Saturday evening.’

Dana glanced at the photo montage of Jeb that Lucy had emailed. Jeb at a charity function, Jeb meeting a politician, Jeb at a conference. You could dress the man in a tailored evening suit, or jeans and sweater: whichever, he was huge and overbearing. She started to reconsider Mikey’s idea of a two-hander.