“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.”
