‘Of course you do. But it didn’t make sense to me. At first, I thought it was because Quinn had found out that Simon wasn’t really his son, and he wasn’t going to take the blame for another man’s child. But Enid Quinn put me right on that. Simon is Mansell’s son, and the DNA test proved it.’
Proctor shook his head. ‘What’s that to me?’
‘It wasn’t Simon who killed Carol, was it, Mr Proctor?’ said Fry. ‘That was what Mansell found out somehow, ten years ago. And he was pretty much the last to know, wasn’t he? No wonder he’s so angry. He’s spent more than thirteen
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years in prison. I’d be pretty bloody angry with people who did that to me.’
Proctor heard her out with a puzzled expression. But he didn’t ask what she was talking about. He had his own concerns.
‘Where’s Alan?’ he said.
Fry drew in a long breath. ‘I don’t know, Mr Proctor. But we’re going to find him. Let’s hope nobody else has suffered to protect your son.’
‘He isn’t my son,’ said Proctor.
‘Whatr
‘Alan is Mansell’s son. I’ve known that for a long time. All the gossip about Rebecca and the stuff about paternity tests, it made me laugh. Mansell was worried that he had no son, but he has two. I’m the one that has no son.’
Fry stared at him. She could see that Proctor was sweating heavily from fear or anxiety, or both.
‘So why did you protect him?’
‘I’d lost Carol. In fact, I’d already lost her before she died. I may not have any real family now - but Alan is the closest thing I’ve got.’
Proctor tried to move away then, but Fry took his arm.
‘Does Alan know who his real father is?’
‘Yes,’ said Proctor. ‘I thought he ought to know, so I told him when he was eighteen. It didn’t do any good. We were really close until then, but it seemed to destroy our relationship. I never understood why, exactly. I mean, you can be close to somebody without being related by blood, can’t you? Blood doesn’t always have to be thicker than water.’
‘And Quinn? Is he aware that Alan is his son?’
Proctor shook his head. ‘Not unless Alan has told him.’
ASA
44
Mansell Quinn’s hand shot out and grabbed Alan Proctor around the neck, forcing his head back. If Alan had expected him to move more slowly, he’d been wrong. Prison hadn’t destroyed Quinn physically, at least. He threw his weight forward, and Alan crashed backwards, his head hitting the water of the pool.
‘You stupid bastard. Get off me!’
Quinn plunged Alan’s head back into the pool. He kept it under for a few seconds longer this time, watching the other man’s face disappear in a swirl of silt from the bottom. When Alan came up again, he was coughing and spitting out streams of brown water. Quinn waited until he opened his eyes. He read the fear in them, the knowledge that the next breath Alan took could be his last.
He tightened his grip on a handful of collar.
‘You’re mad,’ said Alan. ‘Let me get up.’
Quinn heaved him up on to his knees then and stood back, bringing the crossbow smoothly over his shoulder.
‘You deserve everything that’s coming to you. Don’t you think so, Alan? Do you think you should get away with it completely? You killed Carol. For God’s sake, you killed your own mother.’
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‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re mad.’
Quinn sneered. He pulled a bolt out of his rucksack, cocked the bow and loaded it. ‘I suppose you think you’ve suffered,’ he said. ‘Did you spend years expecting the police to come for you? Even after I went to prison, were you convinced someone would realize there’d been a mistake? Did you think there’d be a knock on the door one night, or somebody would be waiting for you when you were called out of class? If a car you didn’t recognize was parked on the road, did you believe it belonged to somebody who was watching you? I hope so, Alan.’
‘I didn’t kill her,’ said Alan. ‘When I heard you coming home that night, I ran out of the house. I was in a panic, not thinking about anything except getting away. It was only afterwards I remembered I’d left the Coke bottle on the table and a tape in the cassette player. Simon had bought The Joshua Tree that week. It was still playing when I left the house. I can still hear it now, when I think about it. It was either “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” or “With or Without You”. It was playing, right there in the house. You must have noticed. There are some things you can’t help but notice.’
‘But there was no reason for you to worry yourself,’ said Quinn. He slid the bolt back into the trigger mechanism and released the safety. ‘Not once they’d got me sent down.’
‘Listen,’ said Alan, trembling now with cold and fear, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve got this all wrong. What I told you in Gartree - that was true. There weren’t any other men with Mum at the same time as you. I really am your son. I’m a bastard, but I’m your bastard. You can’t do this to me.’
But Quinn just shook his head.
‘You should start running now,’ he said.
Ben Cooper knew the two men weren’t far ahead of him. But his leg wouldn’t support him any more, and he could only drag himself a few inches at a time through the darkness.
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He’d be glad now even to see a glimmer of Mansell Quinn’s light stick, though he was sure Alan Proctor must have come into the cavern with a lamp. He craved any kind of light.
