With or Without Him (29 page)

Tyler wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. Not just swallow him, crush him and crunch him up until there was nothing left.

“He’s not been charged with anything yet, sir. He’s being questioned.” The man listened for a moment and then put the phone on speaker. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Tyler? What the hell’s happened?”

“Someone’s stabbed Jeremy. They think it was me.”

“Don’t say another word until I get a lawyer to you.”

“I didn’t stab him.”

“Not a word, Tyler. Promise me.”

“Okay.”

Tyler’s head felt too heavy to keep up. He looked down to see the floor coming up to hit him.

Haris’s fingers shook as he ended the call.
Oh Christ.
If only he’d kept Stan watching him. He scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he was looking for.

“Michael. It’s Haris. I have a problem.”

While he explained the situation, he grabbed his sweater and wallet and left the study. He arranged to meet Michael at the police station and went looking for Wilson. When he didn’t find him in the kitchen, he went down to his quarters, knocked on the door and called, “Wilson, I need you to drive me to Deptford police station.”

The door opened and Wilson stood there in his slippers.

“Tyler’s in trouble.”

“Five minutes.”

It was less than that before they were on their way. Sensibly, Wilson didn’t try to engage him in conversation. Haris couldn’t remember when he’d felt more agitated. They hadn’t reached the station before he had a call from Michael to say Tyler had been taken to Lewisham hospital and that he’d meet Haris there instead.

Now he was even more anxious.

Wilson dropped him off outside the entrance. Haris told him to find somewhere to park and stay with the car. Michael waited in the lobby.

“Do you know what’s happened?” Haris asked.

“Tyler’s okay. They think he’s concussed.”

Haris sagged. “Where is he?”

“Under observation.”

“Do you know how his friend is? Jeremy?”

“Only that he’s in theatre.”

“Think they’ll let me see Tyler?”

Michael sighed. “We can try.”

The answer was no but Haris was desperate and persuasive and finally a doctor agreed.

“Remind him not to talk to anyone until he’s spoken to me.” Michael glanced at the police officer sitting next to the nurses’ station. “The only good thing about him needing hospital treatment is that the police can’t use anything he might already have said.”

Haris washed his hands with the antibacterial gel and slipped into Tyler’s room. He was curled up in bed, his eyes closed, his fists balled up next to his face. He looked ready to fight the world and Haris’s heart swelled.

He wrapped one of his hands around Tyler’s and Tyler’s eyes sprang open.

“Haris,” he croaked.

“I’m here.”

“How’s Jeremy?”

“I don’t know. What happened to you?”

“I banged my head. Probably when I fainted. I’m such a wuss. I’m really sorry.”

Haris sat on the edge of the bed. “What for?”

“For letting you get involved in the mess that is my life.”

“Hey. You didn’t
let
me do anything.”

“But you don’t know what I am, what I’ve done. I’m not what you think I am. Except I didn’t stab Jeremy. I called the police. They found one of my socks and a belt covered with his blood in my pocket and now they think I did it. Oh God.”

He could feel Tyler shaking.

“I’ve got you a lawyer. He’s waiting outside. You don’t speak to the police until you’ve spoken to him.”

Tyler pushed himself to a sitting position. “He might as well come in and hear it with you, but there’s something I need to tell you first. You might not want to stick around after.”

Haris was pretty sure he already knew what he was going to say. The moment he’d opened the envelope, he wished he hadn’t. He’d betrayed Tyler’s trust by having his background checked. Now he had to pretend he didn’t know any of it.

Chapter Sixteen

Tyler wrapped his arms around himself and stared into Haris’s face, aware this was the last time the man would look at him without knowing what he’d done, the last time Tyler would look at him and not wonder what he really thought.

“Before I met you, I fucked guys for money. Every Saturday night. I don’t know how many,” Tyler blurted and dug his fingers so hard into his ribs, it hurt.

Haris’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re fucking me for money.”

Tyler wasn’t sure what he’d expected Haris to say, but he was fairly sure he hadn’t wanted or expected him to say that. It reduced what they had between them to nothing. Didn’t he care at all?

“As long as you stopped doing it once you’d signed the contract,” Haris said.

“Yes,” he muttered.

“Unless there’s something else, I’ll ask Michael to come in.”

He’s not even a little upset? Not sad for me? Not angry, disappointed, disgusted? Not even fucking surprised?

Tyler sucked in his cheeks. “No, nothing else.”

Now he felt a fool for thinking Haris would be bothered. They had a business arrangement with a definite end, not a relationship that was open-ended. He’d lost sight of that. Haris wanted him for uncomplicated fun not emotional hassle. The lawyer was probably there to make sure Haris didn’t get trawled up into this mess.

Oh God. Where am I going to live?
Anxiety fluttered in his chest. He couldn’t go back to his flat, not with blood all over the place.
Shit, I’ll probably be in prison anyway.
He shuddered.

The man that came into the room with Haris was in his fifties, and tall with silver hair.

“Michael Dunnock,” he said to Tyler and held out his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” If he ignored the pounding head, the churning in his gut and the ache in his heart. “Do you know how Jeremy is?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

Tyler felt bad that part of the reason he wanted Jeremy to be okay was so he could tell the police it wasn’t him who stabbed him. “I didn’t—”

“Before you speak, you need to listen carefully,” the lawyer said. “I don’t want you to lie to me but think very hard about what you decide to reveal. If I ask you a question, answer it precisely and then stop. If I need to know more, I’ll ask. That applies especially if the police are interviewing you. Okay?”

“Yes.”

“When did you first meet Jeremy?” the lawyer asked.

“Saturday before last.”

“How did you meet him?”

Tyler glanced at Haris. “At an all-male sex party organized by a man called Prescott. I think his first name is Henry. Jeremy and I were the…star attractions.”

Haris showed nothing on his face and Tyler stared at him, struck by a perverse desire to hide nothing about those evenings, not even the fact that sometimes part of him had enjoyed what happened.

“We were paid five hundred pounds to have sex with whoever wanted us and however they wanted us, as often as they wanted us.”

“How many men attended?” Dunnock asked.

“There were usually around seven of us who were paid. Maybe double that number who paid Prescott. They didn’t all want to take part. Some liked to sit on the sidelines. One time, we even had a couple of women watching.”

“Was there any sort of coercion?”

Tyler gave a short laugh. “Five hundred quid is a lot of money. If one guy preferred not to do something, there was always another who would.”

“Anyone underage?”

“Not that I know of, but we all looked young. The guys who attended—”
Sort of looked like you,
“—were a mixed bunch of professional people: CEOs, accountants, lawyers, venture capitalists.”

Haris stared at him without blinking.

“What did Jeremy do at the party?” the lawyer asked.

“Apart from mess around with me? Prescott said he wanted him all to himself that first time. That’s what he does. Makes you think you’re special.”

“Is that what he did with you?” Dunnock asked.

“Yeah. He’s good but I’m not a fool. I knew what he was doing.”

Why doesn’t Haris say something?

But only the lawyer spoke, interrupting sometimes and constantly making notes on a spiral notepad. Tyler spoke until there didn’t seem to be anything else to say, no dirty stone left unturned, not even the details of his childhood. The only thing he hadn’t talked about was Haris. Oh, and the videos. It was all over anyway. No point hammering more nails into his coffin.

“How did you two meet?” the lawyer glanced between them.

“I was playing in a music concert,” Tyler said. “Haris was in the audience.” Not quite a lie.

“Ah yes, you’re the pianist,” Dunnock said. “I saw you at the charity auction.”

Tyler stared at him. “You were at the museum? Then you saw—well, heard Gerald. He was the one bidding against Haris.”

Dunnock frowned. “His name’s not Gerald.”

Haris leaned forward and spoke for the first time. “You know him?”

“Not personally. He’s a senior civil servant. George Blunt.”

“You have to tell the police,” Tyler blurted. “He raped Jeremy. He probably stabbed him. He’s had the chance to get rid of his clothes and—oh damn, go and tell them right now.”

“Hold on,” Dunnock said. “Jeremy told you this man had raped him, but the police can’t act on
you
telling them that. More to the point, they might suggest it gave you a motive to kill Jeremy and frame Blunt.”

Tyler’s heart thumped. “What?”

“You were jealous of their relationship. Maybe you didn’t believe the rape story. Maybe you thought Blunt and Jeremy were cutting you out.”

Tyler buried his face in his hands.
I don’t believe this.

“There are other problems,” Dunnock said. “Unless the doctors are able to say with some certainty
when
Jeremy was attacked, any CCTV footage of you is useless. You could have stabbed him the moment you arrived and then panicked and called the police. If it’s your knife, your prints are likely to be on it. They have your sock and belt presumably covered in Jeremy’s blood. You could have taken them off him, stuffed them in your pocket.”

“Why? I wouldn’t have done that anyway. Couldn’t.”
I don’t want to hear any more.

“You don’t know if this other man is really called Prescott, but it’s highly unlikely. Even if his first name
is
Henry, it doesn’t help. He paid you in cash. No proof of the money coming from him. Without what you’ve said being corroborated, there’s no evidence these parties ever took place.”

“I can describe the apartment. I know where it is.”

“But you say he doesn’t live there. All you have is a phone number. How long will he keep that once he knows trouble is coming? The phone is unlikely to be registered to him anyway. This guy is careful. Did you keep his messages?”

Tyler groaned. “Some.”

“They can all probably be recovered but does he say anything to implicate himself?”

“What? You mean like—I’ll pay you five hundred pounds to suck ten cocks tonight because those ten guys will give me five hundred pounds each which I’ll use to fund my expensive flat and car?”

Tyler resented the fact that this was being made to look like his fault.

“You do realize you need to declare that income for tax purposes,” Dunnock said.

Really?

“Being paid for sex isn’t illegal, provided you’re over the age of consent and haven’t been subject to coercion. Paying for sex isn’t illegal with the same provisos and as long as you don’t solicit sex by curb crawling. Not paying your taxes
is
illegal.”

“So why all the secrecy?” Tyler asked.

“Because Prescott
is
breaking the law. He’s pimping and pandering, though the chances of proving it are slim. You don’t know the name of anyone else who attended these parties apart from Jeremy and a couple of the other young men, and no surnames. You don’t know where any of the…guests live or work and they have no reason to speak out. I suspect even the cleaners will dissolve into mist once the police start asking questions. He probably chose illegal immigrants. No one is going to talk because they’ll be in trouble if they do.”

“I’m already in trouble,” Tyler mumbled.

“Not if Jeremy wakes up and says it wasn’t you who stabbed him,” Dunnock said.

The lump in Tyler’s throat refused to shift. “And if he dies?”

“Then you’re going to need my help.”

“Isn’t there
anything
going for me?” Tyler failed to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Your past history. The fact that you don’t deal well with blood and that you were likely concussed after you fell in your room.”

Tyler stared at him in disbelief. “So it’s a good thing my father lost his hold on reality, killed my family and gave me a phobia about blood?”