Chapter
6
Harlan examined his
arms. Bruises were already beginning to flower where the punches had landed. He
folded his hands – which were trembling from the fading rush of adrenaline –
together on the table in front of him. He looked at the uniform standing by the
door of the interview room. “Don’t suppose you could get me a coffee and some
painkillers?”
The uniform nodded and
turned to leave. A short while later, Jim entered the room and put a
polystyrene cup and a couple of tablets on the table. “How you doing?” he
asked.
In answer, Harlan held
up his shaky hands. “What about our man?”
“Still unconscious.”
“Will he live?”
“The doctors aren’t
saying.”
“Who is he?”
“We don’t know. We’re
running his prints.”
Harlan took out the
gun. “I found this in his car.”
Jim looked at it with
distaste. “Seems like every scumbag out there is carrying one of those pieces
of crap these days. You’re lucky you didn’t get a bullet through your damn
fool–”
Before Jim could
finish, Garrett stormed into the room, and planting his hands on the table,
said to Harlan, “Just what the fuck did you think you were doing? You put
innocent peoples’ lives at risk out there tonight. Detective Monahan told you
to stay put and do nothing.”
“I’m not a cop anymore,
and I don’t take orders from anybody.”
“That’s right, Miller,
you’re not a cop.” There was a tone of stung pride in Garrett’s voice. It was
deeply embarrassing to him that one man, regardless of who that man might be,
had succeeded where several hundred officers and detectives under his command
had failed. Moreover, it was a blow to his career – it was no secret that he
was an ambitious man with an eye on the Chief Constable’s office. “You’re an
ex-con who’s failed to show for a meeting with his case officer. That’s a
serious parole violation. I could have you put back inside.”
“So do it.”
The two men stared at each
other, neither flinching. Garrett shook his head. “No. As much as it pains me
to admit it, our main suspect would still be on the streets but for you. That’s
why I’ve spoken to your case officer, explained that there were extenuating
circumstances for your failure to show.”
“Do you expect me to
say thanks?”
“No. I expect you to go
home and get on with your life. I don’t want to hear your name in connection
with this case again. If I do, I won’t hesitate to have you thrown back in
prison. Do I make myself clear?”
What fucking life
?
Harlan felt like saying, but he said, “Perfectly.”
“Good.” Garrett
straightened, casting Jim a stern glance as he turned to leave the room. “As
soon as you’re finished here, DI Monahan, I want to speak to you in my office.”
“Yes, sir.”
Garret paused by the
door and looked at Harlan. “To think that you were once one of our most
promising young DIs, looking at you now it, well, it just makes me very sad.”
Despite himself, Harlan
blinked from Garrett’s gaze. A familiar surge of self-loathing burned through
him as he caught sight of his ragged reflection in the room’s one-way
observation window. There was nothing left of that young DI to see. There was
only a pitiable broken creature, with the desperate, bloodshot eyes of an animal
in pain rather than a human being. He fought a sudden wild urge to snatch up
the pistol and put a bullet in his reflection.
“Patronising bastard,”
muttered Jim, once they were alone. “You deserve gratitude, not pity.”
“Forget it.” Harlan forced
a smile. “Sounds like I’ve got you in trouble.”
Jim smiled crookedly in
return. “So what else is new?” He sighed. “Sometimes I think I’m getting too
old for this job.”
“Bullshit. You’re the
best copper this force has ever had.”
Jim gave Harlan a meaningful
look. “No I’m not. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
As they made their way
past the booking area to reception, Jim said, “Garrett’s got his head so far up
his arse that he can’t see for the shit in his eyes, but he said one thing that
makes sense – get on with your life.” He stopped at the front entrance and
looked Harlan in the eyes. “Eve called me again. She’s broken up with her
boyfriend.”
An involuntary rush of
something close to elation swept through Harlan. “Why?” he asked, keeping his
voice carefully level, not daring to acknowledge, even to himself, the strength
of his feelings.
“Call her and find
out.”
They shook hands. “Call
her,” Jim shouted, as Harlan made his way to his car.
Harlan took out his
phone and found Eve’s number. His finger hovered over the dial button, his face
screwed up with indecision. One minute passed. Two minutes. Suddenly, as if
it’d burnt his hand, he threw the phone onto the passenger seat. Fatigue heavy
in his bones, he drove back to the flat and fell into a dreamless dead sleep.
When Harlan awoke, it
was afternoon of the next day, and hunger gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He
went to the kitchen and opened a cupboard at the front of which was the tumbler
of sleeping-pills. He stared at it a moment, then reached past it for a box of
cereal. He switched on the television and sat eating at the table. Eve smiled
at him from the photo. Catching himself drifting into a fantasy about her in
which they were talking and embracing, he reached to flip the photo face down.
The sound of Garrett’s voice drew his eyes to the television. He was stood
outside the police station, saying, “All I can tell you at this time is that
there have been significant new developments in the case.”
“Can you confirm the
rumours that these developments are related to an incident which took place at
St Mary’s church last night?” asked one of the gathered journalists.
“No I can’t. No more
questions right now. There’ll be a full press briefing later today. Thank you.”
Garrett turned and
headed into the station. The cameras cut back to the studio where, after
speculating about what the developments might be, the news reader announced
that nearly twenty thousand quid had been raised by the all-night vigil to add
to the ten thousand already on offer. Harlan’s thoughts began to slide away
from the TV back to Eve. He closed his eyes, feeling her fingers crawl up his
back, her mouth nuzzle his neck. As if she was right there in the room with
him, he heard her murmur, “I love you.”
I love you too
,
Harlan thought. But before the words could form on his lips, he shook himself
free of the fantasy. He jerked to his feet, grabbed his jacket and left the
flat. He needed to walk, to clear his head. As he pounded the streets, though,
scenes of Eve tumbled through his mind in rapid succession, threatening to
overwhelm his consciousness. He was holding her, kissing her, tasting her,
smelling her. They were in bed, making love. Then he was watching her sleep,
stroking her hair. Memories mixed intoxicatingly with imagination, like colours
on a palette, until one became indistinguishable from the other. In a kind of
daze, he took out his phone and called her.
“Harlan?”
The sound of Eve’s
hesitant, hopeful voice jolted Harlan back into the moment. He gripped the
phone to his ear, heart thumping.
“Harlan?” she repeated.
“Are you there? Are you okay?”
This is crazy
,
Harlan thought.
It can only lead to more pain and suffering
.
Just
hang up, hang up
…But he didn’t hang up. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry, I
shouldn’t have called.”
“No, I’m glad you did.”
Harlan was aware that
his breathing had quickened. There was a slight quiver in his voice as he
spoke. “Jim told me you broke up with your boyfriend. But he didn’t tell me
why.”
“I realised I didn’t
love him.”
Eve’s answer led Harlan
to another question, one he didn’t dare ask – what made you realise you didn’t
love him? A moment of silence passed. “I’m sorry,” he said, for want of
something to say.
“Don’t be. It’s not
your–” Eve broke off.
It wasn’t hard for
Harlan to figure out what she’d been about to say.
It’s not your fault
.
The implication behind her silence sent a rush of blood through his body.
Suddenly, he knew that he had to see her. He just had to, no matter how his
guilt burned at his soul. “Where are you?”
“At work.”
“Can you get away?”
“Why?”
“I want–” No,
want
wasn’t the right word. “I need to see you.”
“Okay. We can meet at
my flat, if you like.”
“Where is it?”
Eve gave Harlan the
address, and he told her he’d be there as soon as he could. He ran to his car, not
wanting to give his guilt a chance to steal his need, his desire. When he got
to Eve’s place – a one bedroomed, modern apartment close to the city centre,
about as different from their suburban semi as you could get – she was waiting
for him. She not only sounded different, but she looked different too. Her hair
was shorter, more styled. Her makeup was more carefully applied, more sensual.
She’d put on a little weight, but in a good way. She looked more like the girl
he’d fallen for than the wife he’d divorced. He stared at her awkwardly,
suddenly conscious of his unkempt hair and the scruffy growth of stubble on his
hollow cheeks.
“Hello Harlan.” Eve
smiled, but Harlan could tell she was as shocked by his appearance as he was
surprised by hers.
“Hello Eve.”
She motioned for him to
come in, and he followed into an open-plan living area furnished with a cream
three-piece suite that wouldn’t have lasted ten seconds with Tom’s muddy feet
jumping all over it. There were pictures on the walls – including several
photos of Tom at different ages, from baby to shortly before he died – and
books and ornaments on a set of shelves, as well as other knick-knacks that
marked the flat out as a home rather than just a place to sleep. Sliding
glass-doors led to a balcony that overlooked what seemed a different city than
the one visible from Harlan’s flat. He was glad to see that Eve was doing so
well, but it also made him think,
this isn’t right, you shouldn’t be here
.
“You look great,” he said.
“Thanks. You look…” Eve
hesitated.
Harlan could see she
was reluctant to say anything that might upset him, so he spoke for her. “I
look like shit.”
“I was going to say you
look like you’re ready for a good meal and a good night’s sleep.”
“And a bath and a
shave.” Harlan heaved a sigh. “It’s been a long few weeks, and the last
twenty-four hours have just about finished me.”
Eve looked at Harlan
searchingly. “Did you have anything to do with this incident they mentioned on
the news?”
Harlan nodded,
reflecting that even after four years apart Eve could still read him better
than anybody else he’d ever known. Her eyes widened as he told her what’d
happened. “So you caught the kidnapper.”
“Maybe. I guess we’ll
have to wait and see.”
“You could be in line
for the reward then.”
Harlan frowned. “I
honestly hadn’t thought about that. I didn’t do it for the money.”
“Of course you didn’t.
I know that. Just like I know you’re already thinking about refusing the
reward. Well you shouldn’t. That money could give you a fresh start. You owe it
to yourself to accept it.”
I owe myself nothing
,
thought Harlan, his desire evaporating like dry ice.
The only debt I have is
to Susan Reed and her children
. The idea that he might profit from their
loss was almost enough to nauseate him. He looked guiltily away from Eve,
turning as if to leave. “Do you want something to eat?” she said quickly. “I
can make you a sandwich or whatever.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps
I should go.”
“Stay a while longer.
If you’re not comfortable talking about Susan Reed, I won’t mention her name
again.” Eve reached out to touch Harlan’s hand. It was only the lightest of
touches, but it reignited his desire like a fire in a haystack. “Please,
Harlan.”
“Okay. I tell you what
I’d really like. I’d like some spaghetti, if that’s not too much trouble.”
Harlan had always loved Eve’s pasta. He hadn’t eaten a meal that was worth
tasting in years, and just the thought of it made him salivate.
Eve smiled again. “Of
course it’s not.” She headed into the kitchen. “Look, why don’t you get a bath
while I’m cooking?” She pointed to a door. “The bathroom’s in there.”
Harlan hesitated, but
Eve wafted him towards the door. Like the rest of the flat, the bathroom was
clean and comfortable and smelt of Eve’s perfume. He set the water running and
poured bubble-bath into it. As he undressed, he noticed a razor and
shaving-foam on the side of the bath. He lathered his cheeks and shaved at the
sink, before getting into the bath. He stretched out, releasing a long breath,
and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt the knot of
tension in his belly start to uncoil.