“But this is a start, and that’s a hell of a lot more than we had yesterday. We just need to find something to get the floodgates fully opened, then everything else will come pouring out. Maybe the line-up is that something.”
“Maybe. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m gonna work on him some more. I’ll speak to you later.”
“What was that about?” Kane asked, as Harlan hung up.
Harlan told him. Kane’s tongue flicked at his lips, and a tightness came into his face. “There’s nothing to be scared of,” Harlan reassured him. “Nash won’t be able to see or hear you.”
“I ain’t fuckin’ scared of him. If he comes after me, I’ll batter the shit out of him,” Kane responded defensively, but his bravado rang as hollow as the tremor in his voice.
“I’d better go tell your mum.” Harlan hesitated to leave Kane alone with his fear. He wanted to say something more to reassure him, but he knew any such words would be flung back in his face. As if to prove how unconcerned he was, Kane nonchalantly resumed his game. “Thanks for talking to me,” said Harlan. The boy gave no sign of having heard. Harlan’s eyes strayed briefly to Ethan’s bed again, then he turned to make his way downstairs.
A strange pale look came over Susan’s face when she heard what was going to take place. Like Kane, there was fear in her expression, but it was tempered by an almost violent eagerness. “What do you think it means? Do you think he’s ready to spill his guts?”
“I don’t know,” said Harlan, not wanting to give false hope.
Susan lit a cigarette, and puffing intensely on it, began pacing the kitchen. At the sound of a car pulling up outside, she darted to the front window. “It’s a police car.” She lifted her head. “Kane, get down here.” A few seconds passed. No sound of movement came from upstairs. “What the hell’s he doing?” Susan ran to the bottom of the stairs. “Kane, get a bloody move on!”
“Take it easy on him,” said Harlan. “He acts tough, but he’s just a scared kid.”
“He’s scared? What about me? I’m going out of my fucking-” Susan broke off as Kane appeared and made his way downstairs with slow, reluctant steps. “Come on, come on,” she urged, thrusting his coat and trainers at him. He put them on and sloped after her, head hanging. She stepped out the front door, but he hesitated to follow. Her eyes swelled with frustration. “What the hell’s the matter with you? You understand what’s going on, don’t you?”
Kane nodded, without meeting his mother’s gaze.
“Then you know that every second you waste standing there may cost your brother his life. Now get in the car.”
Kane’s face crumpled as if he was about to cry, but he remained otherwise motionless.
“I said get in the fucking-” Susan caught her anger with a deep breath, before continuing firmly, but gently, “Please, Kane, do as I say.”
Kane glanced back at Harlan. “Will you come with us?”
For a second time that morning, Susan’s eyebrows lifted high. A little tremor of relief passed over Kane’s face as Harlan said, “Of course I will.” Avoiding Susan’s inquiring gaze, Harlan struggled into his shoes and followed Kane to the police car. The boy sat between him and Susan, nervously picking at his jeans, as the car drove blurringly fast to the edge of the city and beyond. Every once in a while, a voice crackled over the two-way radio, inquiring as to their location. Other than that and the driver’s response, the journey passed in silence. An hour and a half or so later, they pulled into a car park around the back of a police station on the outskirts of Manchester. Jim was waiting for them. He gave Harlan a surprised glance, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge him.
“This way, please.” Jim ushered Susan and Kane into the building. They made their way along a corridor to a room where DCI Garrett, DI Greenwood, DI Sheridan and several other detectives awaited them. A faint frown tugged Garrett’s brows at the sight of Harlan, but as his eyes moved to Susan a well-practiced smile of grave welcome chased it away. Slimy bastard, thought Harlan, approaching a two-way mirror, on the other side of which eight figures were lined up. All of them roughly Nash’s height and build. All of them wearing black balaclavas. They looked like a gang of terrorists.
Garrett held his hand out to Susan. She was slow to take it. “It’s good to see you again, Susan. And you, Kane. Has the procedure been explained to you?”
“No,” said Susan.
“It’s simple. One at a time, each of the men will approach the mirror and say, be quiet or I’ll kill you and your brother. All you have to do, Kane, is say if you recognise any of their voices.” Garrett gestured at the line-up. “We’re confident that one of those men is the man who took your brother, but-”
“If one of them is him, it’s no thanks to you he’s in there,” cut in Susan, with a meaningful glance at Harlan.
Garrett’s smile faltered, but remained fixed in place. Ignoring the acid remark, he continued, “But if you can pick his voice out it’ll really help strengthen our case. Now take your time. And don’t be afraid to ask if you want any of them to repeat the words.”
Garrett gave a signal and one of the detective’s spoke into a mic. “Number one, step forward and read the line.”
Susan laid a hand on Kane’s shoulder as the first figure approached the mirror and read from a card in a flat, emotionless tone. “Be quiet or I’ll kill you and your brother.”
Harlan didn’t recognise the voice. Kane indicated that he didn’t either with a shake of his head. The next figure stepped forward, and the next, and the next. All of them elicited the same response: a shake of Kane’s head. The fifth figure recited the line. Harlan tensed, a jolt of adrenaline shooting through him. He recognised Nash’s voice instantly, even though it sounded different. It had an unusually gentle, almost soothing quality, maybe acquired through years of caring for Mary Webster, or maybe adopted to hide its owner’s true nature. Po-faced, Harlan looked at Kane. The boy seemed to consider for a moment, then shook his head. “Are you sure?” Garrett asked him.
“Yes.”
“It’s just that you hesitated.”
“Only because the voice sounded kind of strange.”
“Do you want number five to say the line again?”
Kane shrugged. Garrett gestured and number five was ordered to repeat the words. This time, Kane didn’t hesitate. “It’s not him.”
“Take your time, darling,” said Susan.
“I don’t need to. It’s not him.”
Harlan exchanged a glance with Jim. His ex-partner’s carefully expressionless face reflected his own, but Harlan knew him well enough to read disappointment in his eyes. Nash stepped back into line, handing off the card. None of the other voices caused Kane to hesitate. After shaking his head at the last figure in the line, he said, “It’s none of them. He’s not here.” He looked up at Susan. There was the first hint of tears in his voice. “I’m sorry, Mum.”
Susan squeezed her son’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“Your mum’s right,” said Garrett. “You’ve been very brave and done all you could.”
“So does this mean Nash isn’t the one who took my Ethan?” Susan asked.
“Not at all. It merely means Kane didn’t recognise his voice, which when you think about it is hardly surprising. In fact, I think there are some real positives to be taken from this.”
“Positives?” A frown darkened Susan’s features as she glanced at the two-way mirror.
“I’ll have to ask you and Kane to wait in the corridor a moment while I talk to my colleagues.”
At a glance from Garrett, DI Sheridan ushered them out of the room. “What about me?” asked Harlan.
Garrett looked at him with his police face, not his politician face. “You stay where you are.” There was a hard, authoritative edge to his voice. He waited for DI Sheridan to close the door, before continuing, “William Jones won’t be bringing charges against you. Before you thank me, know this, if it were up to me I’d prosecute you to the full extent of the law. But it’s not up to me. Apparently some people think you’re a hero. I’m not one of those people.” Garrett leaned in close to Harlan, his voice dropping to a furious hiss. “I know what you really are.”