Harlan fought a sudden strong urge to break eye contact. “And what’s that?”
“You’re a menace to society. A madman.”
Madman. The word lodged itself like a splinter in Harlan’s mind. Others of his own making joined it. A killer, a potential murderer, a monster. Is he right? I s that what I am? Not wanting to give Garret the satisfaction of seeing that he’d gotten to him, he forced himself to hold his gaze a moment longer. His voice almost toneless, he said, “I wasn’t going to say thanks,” and turned to leave.
“One more thing, Miller.”
Harlan paused, but kept his back to Garrett. He watched the fifth figure in the line-up being cuffed, ready to be returned to the cells. Garrett coughed as if something was stuck in his craw, before saying, “Mr and Mrs Sutton’s solicitor will be in contact about the money.”
“Money?” Harlan echoed vaguely, only half listening. The line-up participants were filing out of the neighbouring room, all of them still wearing their balaclavas, but only one cuffed.
“The reward money for finding their son. The Suttons want to thank you personally too.”
Harlan shook his head. “Tell them the best way they can thank me is by spoiling Jamie every chance they-” He was cut off by a scream so full of hysterical rage it barely sounded human. It was followed by the sound of a scuffle in the corridor. He yanked the door open in time to see DI Sheridan struggling to restrain Susan as, eyes bulging like a demented cartoon character’s, she clawed at the handcuffed man, missing him by inches. “Where’s Ethan?” she shrieked. “What have you done to my baby boy? You sick fuck! I’ll fucking kill-” Her words were choked off by DI Sheridan hauling her backward.
Harlan stepped between Susan and Nash, who was being hurried away by a couple of uniforms. She lurched forward again, hands flailing. He winced, his stitches pulling painfully as she staggered against him. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her. She briefly strained to break loose. Then, suddenly, her body went limp and she was sobbing, and he was doing what he’d thought he couldn’t do, he was holding her head on his shoulder, shushing her. He looked at Kane, who was shrunk back against a wall, pale and staring. He tried to reassure him with his eyes, before transferring his gaze to Garrett. The DCI, his face flushed with dismayed embarrassment, was already forming an apology on his lips, but Harlan spoke first. “Jesus! What is this? Fucking amateur hour?” Keeping one arm around Susan, he walked her out of the station. The sound of Garrett giving someone the hair-dryer treatment reverberated after them. When they got to the car, she drew away abruptly.
“I’m alright now,” she said. Harlan caught a flicker of guilt in her tear-swollen eyes as she turned to Kane. “I’m sorry.” Harlan couldn’t tell if she was apologising for scaring the boy or for allowing herself to be held by the man who’d killed his dad.
“It’s okay, Mum.” There was still a note of shock in Kane’s voice, as if he’d seen a side to her, a savagery, that he hadn’t known existed. But when she held out her hand, he took it without hesitation and they got into the car.
Harlan turned to Jim, who’d followed them outside. “What do you think? Nash was the only one Kane hesitated over. It can’t be coincidence, right?”
“There’s no such thing.” Jim jerked his thumb at the station. “Sorry about what happened in there. It was unforgivable.”
“It’s not me you should be apologising to. Besides, perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing. It might give Nash something to think about, seeing the face of the suffering he’s caused.”
Jim made a doubtful gesture. “He’d have to be human first.”
“He’s human. In fact, he’s all too human. Mary Webster proved that.”
“Yeah, well he makes me ashamed to be part of the same species.”
“How’s it going with Jones?”
“Same as last time you asked, he’s still in hospital, we’re still searching.” Jim glanced through the car’s rear window. Susan’s head was rested back, eyes closed. She might’ve been asleep, except the muscles of her jaw were working spasmodically. He sighed. “Look after them, Harlan, and yourself. You look like shit, by the way. Anybody told you that?”
Harlan smiled thinly. “Yeah.”
He ducked into the car. Susan didn’t open her eyes. Still gripping her hand, Kane sat hunched down in the backseat as if trying to hide from someone. As the car pulled away from the station, it started raining.
Chapter 20
The journey passed in silence, except for the continuous drumming of the rain on the roof. When they arrived at Susan’s house, without a word, she got out, pulling Kane after her. Harlan followed her into the living-room. She slumped into the armchair and closed her eyes again. Kane stood staring at her, as if he wanted to say something, maybe to make her feel better, or maybe to seek reassurance himself. “Mum,” he said, with a tentative tremor. No response. He tried again. “Mum.” Still no response. His lips quivered, his forehead tied itself into a knot. “It’s not my fault,” he yelled, jerking around and running upstairs. A door slammed, music began to thump against the ceiling.
Harlan lowered himself onto the sofa and was reminded by a jolt of pain that it was time for his pills. As he swallowed them dry, he wondered what Kane had meant: that it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t recognised Nash’s voice, or that it wasn’t his fault Ethan had been abducted. Either was possible. After all, he might feel a coward for not trying to stop the kidnapper. Harlan was about to head upstairs and try to reassure Kane that he had nothing to feel guilty about, when Susan said, “What if Kane’s right? What if Nash isn’t the one?”
“He’s the one.”
Susan opened her eyes and looked at Harlan with piercing intensity. “How can you be certain?”
“I can’t,” he admitted. “All I can do is trust what the evidence and my instincts are telling me.”
Susan heaved a breath, and a soul-destroying weariness came into her eyes as she glanced at the ceiling. “I’d better go talk to him.”
“It’s alright. I’ll go. Close your eyes, get some rest.”
Susan started to frown, but she was too exhausted to inquire as to what made Harlan think Kane would speak to him. She merely made a sound as if to say, rest? How the hell can I rest?
One hand pressed against his throbbing wound, Harlan climbed the stairs and knocked on Kane’s door. The boy’s voice rose over the music. “Go away!”
“It’s me, Harlan.”
There was a moment’s hesitation. Then the music went off and the door opened. Kane had his wannabe tough guy face on — a face that made him look uncannily like his father. “What do you want?”
“Just to talk. Make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?”
“You seemed upset.”
“Yeah I was, ’cos she,” Kane stabbed a finger at the floor, “doesn’t believe me about that man not being the one who took Ethan. None of you do.”
“It’s not that we don’t believe you. It’s just that you were very scared when your brother was taken.” Seeing a frown form on Kane’s face, Harlan added quickly, “And there’s nothing to be ashamed of in that. Anybody would’ve been. But what you’ve got to understand is, fear does strange things to people. It makes them see and hear things differently.”
An angry vein popped out on Kane’s forehead. “There’s nothin’ wrong with my hearing. It wasn’t fuckin’ him!”
There was such conviction in Kane’s voice that Harlan found himself almost believing him. Almost, but not quite. Everything pointed to Nash. It had to be him. Who the hell else could it be? He raised a placatory hand. “I didn’t come up here to argue. I just wanted you to know that you’ve got nothing to feel bad about. You did really well at the line-up. I’ve seen grown men fall apart at those things. But you held it together. You should be proud of yourself.”