The three of them huddled together but it was apparent only one name fitted the criteria. Mark McCall. That realisation was painful. Trained to maintain a level of detachment from people within an inquiry, it remained a large part of being human to empathise and he was perhaps guilty of wanting Mark to be free of suspicion. Every reading of the boy’s body language when they’d been together suggested he was a troubled soul but not a murderer. Was he mistaken? Even now, to give credence to it was tough to accept. “He cut class again today. We need to speak to him, find out what he’s up to.”
“Agreed,” Tamara replied. “The McCall’s place is slap in the middle between those two towers. That’s where we’ll go. I know it’s tough for him but the boy is going to have to open up to us otherwise he’ll wind up our chief suspect.”
They made the drive out to the McCall place in relative silence. Janssen found he was still mulling over Mark’s role in this whole affair. What Tamara was contemplating he couldn’t tell. He found himself wondering whether she harboured the same doubts about the lad’s involvement and if she was also considering whether they took the investigation in the wrong direction. Turning off the main road, a figure appeared from the shadows of the trees ambling along the unmade track towards the house. It was Callum. Upon hearing them approach, he glanced over his shoulder, stopping as soon as he recognised them. His jacket was slung over one shoulder and a sheen of sweat covered his face. Both it and his clothes were grimy. He must have been working.
Bringing the car to a stop, Tamara lowered her window. Callum eyed her with a cold stare, his usual. “We’re looking for Mark,” she said.
“He’ll be at college.” The reply was curt, rough. She shook her head.
“We were there earlier. Mark skipped class straight after registration this morning.” Janssen saw Callum’s eyes narrow, if only slightly, the closest the man would ever get to revealing a tell. He was surprised. “You seen him?”
“No. Maybe he’s back at the house.” Callum looked up the track. “What do you want with him anyway?” There was an edge to the question. He was concerned. That registered on Janssen’s radar. Callum wasn’t easily bothered by the police. He was hardened but something was troubling him.
“Probably best for us to speak to him directly,” Tamara replied. “Get in, we’ll take you the rest of the way.”
“Nah. You’re alright. I’ll see you there,” Callum replied under his breath, stepping back and resuming the remainder of his walk home. Janssen moved the car off. Looking in the rear-view mirror, he got the impression Callum was walking with more purpose now.
Pulling up in front of the property everything looked quiet. He half expected Mark to be sitting outside, idling the day away. Or was that what he hoped? Getting out of the car, they looked for any sign of movement from inside. Tamara indicated towards the outbuildings and he went to check the interior. Net curtains on every window obscured the view of the interior and so he tried the door. It was unlocked and he gently opened it. Peering inside, he looked around. No one appeared to be home. Stepping up, he entered.
“Oi! You’ve got nae right!” The shout came from distance, beyond the parked car. He knew it was Callum. Ignoring the protestation, he went further, allowing the door to swing to behind him. There was a strange smell inside, part damp, part decomposing food and lingering body odour. They didn’t open windows often nor clean up by the look of it. The door flew open and a red-faced, out of breath Callum McCall charged in. “You’ve got nae business searching ma home, not without a warrant,” he said in halting speech, waving a finger at him pointedly whilst trying to catch his breath.
“We’re not carrying out a search, Callum. We’re looking for a suspect in a murder investigation and when we find Mark, we intend to arrest him.” Callum was dumbstruck, standing open-mouthed with fists clenched defiantly at his sides.
“My boy’s a good lad. He’s nothing like the rest of us and he ain’t no murderer, Janssen, you hear? And you bloody ken it too.”
“Where is he, Callum?”
“How should I know?”
“Here’s me thinking you’re his father.” Callum made to reply but dropped it. His nose twitched and his top lip curled into something of a snarl as he advanced towards him. For a brief moment, Tom thought there was about to be an altercation and he braced himself. In no doubt he could handle a partial drunk such as Callum McCall, for his peak days were well past him, he still knew better than to take the prospect lightly. Instead, Callum brushed past him and disappeared into one of the rooms beyond.
Watching the man for a moment longer before resuming his search for Mark, he didn’t expect to find him. Were he to be there he would either have revealed himself already or made a break for it if he felt the need to flee. Moments later, Callum reappeared at the threshold to the living area. His expression seemed conciliatory which was intriguing so soon after his outburst.
“Why are you on Mark’s case all of a sudden? You’ve already searched here. If you were going to
