Alex Barclay - The Drowning Child

Shannon nodded. ‘I’m sorry for intruding earlier. I heard “PlayStation” and I just figured something was up.’

Ren went into Seth’s room, and sat on the windowsill.

‘Everything OK?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said Ren. Here goes . She took out the traffic-cam photo.

‘Why was your truck pictured on Richmond Road on the night Aaron died?’ she said. ‘We got this from a private camera. You told me you were here all night.’

Seth stared at the image for a while, twisting his mouth left and right. ‘I needed a drive. I wanted to clear my head.’

‘Why did your head need to be cleared?’

‘I get anxious sometimes,’ said Seth. ‘Driving helps.’

‘And does parking?’

He side-eyed her. ‘I just stopped there – there was no particular reason. It was just where I felt like stopping.’

‘Were you going to see anyone on that street?’

He frowned. ‘No, ma’am.’

‘You know the grounds of the middle school back on to that street,’ said Ren.

‘Uh... yes.’

‘And that there was a dance on there that night?’

‘Yeah, obviously,’ said Seth. ‘I dropped Aaron off at it.’ He paused. ‘Look, I went for a drive – that’s all that was, OK? I promise.’

‘I promise.’ There’s something so young about you.

She took a breath. ‘You know I’m separate from Tate PD,’ she said. ‘So anything you tell me about anyone who works there won’t go back to them, right?’

‘Really?’ said Seth.

‘Really.’ She paused. ‘What happened Monday night with Wiley?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s no big deal...’

‘It looks like a big deal from here,’ said Ren. She walked over to him and bent down. ‘And an even bigger deal close-up.’ She smiled.

‘That was about fifty bucks I owed him from a pool game,’ said Seth.

Ren returned to her seat on the windowsill. ‘Seth, I’m not sure what I’ve said or done to give you the impression that I’m stupid... but whatever it was, I apologize for misleading you. And I’m sure Pete Ruddock feels the same way about why Wiley thought that story would float.’

Seth stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Come on...’ said Ren. ‘No police officer – lieutenant – is going to beat the shit out of someone in the street over a fifty-dollar bet. This was a lot more personal than that.’

‘I’m telling you – it was about the fifty dollars. I owed it to him for months.’

‘You can change the timeframe all you like,’ said Ren, ‘but I’m still not buying it.’ She paused. ‘What were you doing in town last night?’

‘I was going to Bucky’s to play pool. I was actually going to see if Wiley was there.’

‘OK... but you were found collapsed a block from the other side of Main Street, beside your truck, which was parked outside the church car park.’

‘I couldn’t get a spot by Bucky’s.’

‘I’m trying to be a grown-up here and not roll my eyes,’ said Ren, ‘but do you know how easy it is for me to check if there were parking spaces close to Bucky’s that night? Very.’

Seth’s shoulders slumped.

‘What’s going on?’ said Ren. ‘Are you protecting Wiley? Because Wiley doesn’t need protecting. And shouldn’t be protected – he’s an officer of the law. Or are you protecting yourself?’

‘Look,’ said Seth. ‘There’s something I was going to tell you about John Veir, but I was afraid to say anything... and then, it didn’t seem to matter any more.’

‘What do you mean, it didn’t seem to matter?’

‘I want immunity.’

I want to laugh. ‘Immunity?’

‘From prosecution.’

‘For what?’ said Ren.

He shrugged. ‘Just... in case there might be something unlawful I’ve done in this story.’

Ren smiled.

‘What?’ said Seth.

‘Honey, you’ve got ten seconds.’

His eyes widened. ‘OK, OK: Merrifield was dealing in BRCI, he hooked me up with a patch – fentanyl – and I OD’d, by accident. John Veir walked in, saved my life. Merrifield was still in my cell, happy to watch me die. When he was leaving, he said to John: ‘If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will watch you burn.’

Jesus Christ.

And I meant ten seconds to begin your story. Not to tell it in. But, hey – works for me.

‘Why did you think it didn’t matter?’ said Ren.

‘Because Merrifield was linked to John Veir anyway. I saw the news report the day after the fire. Merrifield was linked to it.’

But there’s the small matter of who was supplying Merrifield and what they may have thought of John Veir stumbling on to their little enterprise.

Jesus. Christ.

Ren went back to Tate PD and told everyone about Seth Fuller and the fentanyl story.

‘I believe Seth,’ said Ren. ‘But what I don’t get is why John Veir didn’t say it to us the night of the fire – it would have bolstered his case.’ She turned to Ruddock. ‘Have you heard anything about dealing in BRCI? I mean, they must be doing a thorough investigation, considering Merrifield is out there.’

‘No,’ said Ruddock. ‘But I can make inquiries.’

‘He’s been gone ten days,’ said Ren. ‘There’s no way he hasn’t had help somewhere along the way. Someone is harboring him.’

They all nodded.

I think I’m stating the obvious...

‘Let’s call John Veir in again,’ said Gary. ‘To rattle him. We won’t mention the video from Lister Creek until we have more, and until we can get Alice Veir in here too, face to face.’

Half an hour later, John Veir was sitting in the interview room, his fingers linked, his head bowed. Ren and Ruddock walked in. He looked up at them, tolerance and challenge flickering in his eyes.

‘OK,’ said Ruddock, sitting down, ‘looks like there are a couple of things here that you neglected to mention to us, John.’ His manner was warm, non-threatening. He made John go through everything about the day Caleb went missing, about the night Aaron Fuller died, about the day he dropped Caleb off at Rose Dennehy’s. He repeated the facts as he had first given them, then collapsed back in his seat.

‘Is that OK?’ he said, raising his hands up. ‘Everyone happy with that? Can I go?’

‘Can you go?’ said Ren. Not before I punch you in the face. ‘I’m sorry, but we’re here to try to find your son, and we’re doing everything we can. Is this tedious for you? Does it sound like a terrible thing? I can’t understand this. It’s like you’re angry with us, when we’re here to help you—’

‘You’re accusing me!’ he said, rising from his seat.

‘Sit down, Mr Veir,’ said Ren.

‘Don’t patronize me—’

‘We’re not accusing you of anything,’ said Ren. Yet.

Deep breaths. ‘Why don’t we all just take a moment?’ said Ruddock.

There was a knock on the door. Gary stuck his head in. ‘Chief – I’m sorry to interrupt. If I could have a word with you, please?’

Ruddock stood up. ‘Excuse me.’ He nodded to John and Ren, and left the room.

Oh, John, you have no idea what’s about to go down here.

Ren sat in silence, watching John Veir staring at his fingernails. Instead of Ruddock, Gary walked back in, stood beside Ren, right in front of John Veir, then slammed his good fist down hard on the table.

John jumped.

Ding, ding. Round One.

‘You need to start telling us the truth,’ said Gary, his voice booming. ‘We know you know the truth, and you need to start talking or things are going to get a whole lot worse for you.’