physical evidence to tie him to the crime. And as of now we’ve got nothing — no fingerprints, no hair, no semen, no saliva.”
“What about the painting?”
“We’re searching Jones’s house for that.” Jim looked meaningfully at Harlan. “But it seems somebody’s destroyed all his paintings.”
“There was no painting of Jamie there. I’m sure of it. It must be somewhere else.”
“Obviously, but where?”
Harlan was silent, eyes narrowed, thinking that five minutes alone with Jones would be enough for him to find out.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t,” said Jim, reading him. “You’re in deep enough shit already. Trust me, we’re not gonna let the fucker off the hook.”
“I hope not. I really fucking hope not.” Harlan’s voice cracked dryly. He took a sip of water. “So tell me the rest of Nash’s story.”
“There’s not much left to tell. After Jones was banged up, Nash dropped off the radar again. We’re filling in the gap between those years, 2005 and the present.”
“I’m guessing this is where Mary Webster comes into the story.”
Jim nodded. “Mary Webster’s an eighty-three year old spinster, all but bedridden with arthritis. From what she’s told us, Nash has been her carer since late 2007.”
“Her carer? What the hell does a guy like Nash know about caring for anybody but himself?”
“According to Miss Webster, he’s the kindest, gentlest person she’s ever met.”
Harlan let out another hiss of breath. “Has she been told what he’s done?”
“Yes, but she won’t have a word of it. You know what these old women are like, deaf to everything but what they want to hear. You can’t blame her, really. She’s got no family. Lives in a big wreck of a house. Without Nash, she’ll more than likely have to go into a care home.”
“How did Nash get to be her carer in the first place?”
“He came knocking on her door, offering to do some repairs. They got chatting and he told her he needed a place to live. She took him in, and he’s been there ever since.”
“Have you found anything at her house?”
“The transit van was in the garage. It’d been washed inside and out. Apart from that, we’ve found nothing. If there was anything, Nash most probably got rid of it after Jamie escaped.”
That was pretty much the answer Harlan had expected. After all, Nash had been in the process of getting rid of evidence when he’d pounced on him. He closed his eyes momentarily, thought about Ethan, and sighed. “Has Susan Reed been told what’s happened?”
“She’s been told what she needs to know — that we have a man in custody who we think was almost certainly involved in her son’s abduction.”
“How’s she holding up?”
“Not too well, by all accounts.”
Again, this was what Harlan had expected to hear. Neil had been Susan’s support, her strength. Without him, she had no one to lean on. A pain that no amount of drugs could numb washed through Harlan as he pictured her waiting alone to hear news of Ethan. “I take it you got nothing from him.”
“Who?”
“Neil Price.”
Jim shook his head. “The only thing that guy’s guilty of is being terminally naive. We released him yesterday. Guess what the stupid little prick did.”
“Tried to see Susan.”
“Got it in one. He showed up at her house, pleading for forgiveness. She called us and we slung him straight back in the cells. Apparently he was sobbing like a baby.” Jim shook his head. “You’ve got to feel sorry for him.”
Harlan didn’t feel sorry for Neil. But he sympathised with him. The guy had made a mistake. Now he was desperate for a chance to make amends. Harlan knew all about that. “You were right, you are going soft in your old age.”
Smiling, Jim patted Harlan’s shoulder. “I’d better get back to it. I’ll see you later.”
“Is that it?” said Harlan, as Jim stood to leave. “Don’t you want a statement from me?”
“We don’t need to do that right now. The doctor tells me you’re going to be in here a few more days at least.”
Harlan’s eyebrows lifted. “What’s going on, Jim? I thought Garrett would be jumping all over the chance to bury me.”
“I’m sure he would be if it was up to him, but things have changed.”
“Changed how?”
“Like I said, you’ve brought a shit storm down on the whole department. Garrett got a phone call this morning. Rumour has it it was from some Home Office bigwig. Whoever it was, they made a big impression on Garrett. When he hung up, his face was white as an old turd. Without a word to any of us, he stormed out the office and drove off. I found out later that he went to see Jones. He was in with him alone for over an hour.”
Harlan frowned with realisation. “Garrett’s been ordered to hush up my involvement.”
“What else can it be?”
“But why?” There was no hint of relief in Harlan’s voice, just curiosity.
A touch of wryness pulled down the corners of Jim’s lips. “It’s always the same with you Harlan. You see everything but yourself. Think about it. Who you are, what you’ve done, it scares the shit out of the politicians. They must know that if this gets out, the public will see you the same way most of us in the department do.”
“And how’s that exactly?”
“A hero.”
“A hero?” Harlan’s mouth twisted on the word. He almost laughed. “The last thing I am is a fucking hero.”
“Maybe, but most of them don’t know you like I do. They don’t know what a suicidal nut job you really are.” The wryness left Jim’s face. “All they know is you risked your life to save that boy’s.”
“And beat a man half to death in the process.”
“A convicted paedophile who’d been questioned and released. Just imagine the fallout if you were jailed for succeeding where we’d failed. Garrett’s future job prospects wouldn’t be worth shit.”
“I might’ve killed Jones. Nash too.”
“But you didn’t.”
Harlan’s eyes dropped away from Jim’s. His voice dropped too. “No, but I wanted to.”
Jim stared down at Harlan a moment, a slight frown over his jaded cop’s eyes. Then he spoke in a husky but gentle tone. “Get some rest. Heal that wound.”
“Anyway, I didn’t succeed,” murmured Harlan. “Ethan’s still missing.”
“Not for much longer. I’m going to crack that bastard Nash wide open. Believe me, by the time I’m finished with him he’ll be spilling like a broken egg. And think on this, Harlan: Nash kept Jamie Sutton alive for over four months. Ethan’s been missing half that time.”
“I have thought on it.” Harlan looked grimly from the plastic cup in his hand to Jim. “Three to ten days.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that even if Ethan’s alive, he won’t be much longer unless he’s found. Don’t you remember your survival training? Three to ten days is how long a person can survive without water.”
For a heartbeat longer, the two men held each other’s gaze. Then Jim turned and hurried away. It suddenly occurred to Harlan that there was a question he hadn’t asked. One he badly wanted the answer to. “Have you told Eve what’s happened?” he called after Jim. But he was already gone.
Weariness throbbed in Harlan’s head, pulling him into sleep. Looking into the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw a parade of people. Everyone who’d ever meant anything to him was there. All of them merging, like droplets of spilled blood. Then he was facing a mirror. But instead of seeing himself, he saw Nash. He clamped his hands around Nash’s throat, squeezing as hard as he could to no effect. “Where is he?” he desperately demanded to know. Suddenly, as if he’d dissolved into the air, Nash was gone. But Harlan was still squeezing, only now his hands
