“I don’t know,” admitted Harlan, his voice tight with strain. “Before I do anything, I need to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Go ahead.”
“Does anyone else know you’re here?”
“No.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. Have you made any public threats against Jones?”
“I’ve only said the same as everyone else in my area’s been saying for years, that he needs his balls cut off and put in his mouth.”
Harlan frowned thoughtfully. “With Jones being so widely hated, there won’t be any shortage of suspects for an attack on him.”
“Yeah and you don’t have to worry about anyone saying anything to the coppers. They’d all be too busy celebrating if the bastard got killed.”
Harlan looked hard at Susan. “No one’s going to get killed.”
Her bitter blue eyes returned his gaze with a sudden flash of hatred so intense he involuntarily winced. “Not deliberately, but as we both know sometimes things happen that we don’t intend to happen.”
A sense of immobility spread through Harlan’s body like an injection of cement. Lumps stood out at the corners of his jaw where his teeth locked together. When he spoke his voice had a hoarse, hollow sound. “After I do this, the police are going to come straight to your door. So you’ve got to make sure you and your boyfriend have got solid alibis.”
“Neil works at the hospital from six until six every night except Sunday.”
“That’s good. Have you got a mobile phone?”
“Yes.”
“Give me your number.” As Susan told Harlan her number, he punched it into his phone. “I’ll call you and let you know when I’m gonna do it. Whatever you do, don’t come here again.”
“I won’t.”
A moment of silence passed between Susan and Harlan. She continued to look at him, her expression bouncing back and forth between anger, hate, fear and desperate hope so rapidly it made his head reel. Blinking from her gaze, he motioned towards the door. With a strange hesitating reluctance, she headed into the hallway. She turned suddenly and gripped Harlan’s wrist with her cold, damp hand. All that was left in her eyes was the agony of a mother fearing for her child. “I’m not stupid. I know that the chances are Ethan’s dead. But I’ve got to believe he’s still alive. And even if-” Her voice caught in her throat. Swallowing her pain, she continued, “Even if he’s not, I still want him back.”
“You realise it could take years to find him.”
“I don’t care how long it takes. The moment Ethan went missing my life stopped. Since then time has had no meaning.” Susan’s nails dug into Harlan like thorns. “Just get my little boy back for me.”
“I’ll try.”
Susan shook her head frantically. “Don’t try. Do it. Do whatever it takes.”
“I…” Harlan’s tongue could barely force the words out through his teeth. “I will.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I’ll find Ethan.” As Harlan spoke, a sick feeling settled in his stomach. It was madness to make such a promise. A life of fruitless searching or a long jail sentence, as far as he could see those were the most likely outcomes of his words, but even so his conscience compelled him to say them.
A little of the tension left Susan’s face. She released Harlan’s arm, and with a seemingly unconscious movement, wiped her palm on her coat as if she’d touched something dirty.
Harlan opened the front door and poked his head out, glancing in both directions. When he was certain there was no one lurking about, he said, “Put your hood up and keep it up until you’re off the estate.”
Susan pulled up her hood. “When will you call?”
“Soon.”
Harlan watched Susan get into the lift, before shutting the door. He moved to gaze out the window again. She emerged from the tower-block and hurried, head down, across the car-park. Harlan scanned the streets for anyone who appeared to be watching her. There was no one. When Susan disappeared from sight, he lifted his gaze to the heavy-bellied clouds. He had his chance, but it was as thin as a razor blade. An all-or-nothing chance that would either allow him to retrieve his life completely or completely consume whatever was left of it.
He took out his phone. A long moment passed before he worked up the nerve to call Eve. She was on the other end of the line in a couple of rings. “I can’t see you for a while,” he told her.
“Oh really? Why’s that?” Eve didn’t sound surprised. There was a fatalistic quality to her voice, as if she’d prepared herself to hear what Harlan was saying.
“I can’t tell you why. And if anyone asks, you never saw Susan Reed at my flat. Okay?”
“Well if I’m going to lie about that, I might as well go the whole hog and provide you with an alibi as well?”
“Why would I need an alibi?”
Eve huffed her breath. “Don’t bullshit me, Harlan. I can deal with all the other crap. Just don’t bullshit me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any point trying to talk you out of whatever it is you’re going to do.”
“No.”
“You’re going to end up back in prison. You know that, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter what happens to me.”
“Of course it bloody matters.” Eve’s voice was sharp with irritation. But it softened as she added, “It matters because I love you and I want to be with you.”
I feel the same way, thought Harlan. He didn’t say the words, though. It wouldn’t have been fair.
“So when can I see you?” asked Eve.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? How long are we talking about here? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?”
“However long it takes.”
“However long it takes.” Eve repeated the words as though struggling to understand them. “So I’m supposed to spend my life in limbo, waiting for you.”
“I’m not asking you to wait for me. I’m just trying to be as straight as I can with you.”
“Oh, thanks.” Eve’s voice was loaded with sarcasm and hurt.
“I’m sorry, Eve.”
She sighed, not angry anymore, just sad and full of yearning. “Don’t be sorry, Harlan, just promise me one thing. Promise me that after all this is over you’ll come back to me.”
“I promise.” Harlan’s voice was thick with suppressed emotion. He knew he couldn’t allow himself to feel too much, not while faced with the task before him. He had to be hard in thought and feeling, or else the paralysis would seize him, and he’d be powerless even to leave his flat. “I’ve got to go now, Eve. Take care.”
Before Eve could reply, Harlan hung up. As he turned away from the window, the clouds burst and dirty black rain pelted the glass, ushering in an even dirtier, blacker night.
Chapter 9
On his way to Jones’s house, Harlan bought a hooded sweatshirt, a rucksack, a torch, a screwdriver, a crowbar, leather gloves, a balaclava and a roll of duct tape. He spread his purchases around several stores, paying with cash. He parked in an unlit side-street half-a-mile or so from his destination, pulled on the sweatshirt, and head bowed against the rain, continued on foot.
By the time Harlan reached Jones’s street, the lampposts were blinking into life. Jones’s house was in the
