gauze and a bandage. After dropping the old dressings into the kitchen bin, he looked at his phone. He knew what he’d see — in the short time he’d been awake, he’d already checked it a dozen times — but felt compelled to do so anyway. No new calls or messages. “Come on, Jim,” he muttered. “Fucking call.” He felt better than the previous day. Stronger. More clear headed. Even after the incident with Kane, perhaps because of it, he’d slept the sleep of the dead. A sleep undisturbed by dreams or thoughts. As Susan turned strips of bacon in the pan, he lined up his pills on the table and began swallowing them one by one.
“Kane,” Susan called upstairs. “Breakfast’s nearly ready. Are you coming down?”
There was no reply. Susan gave Harlan a glance that said the silence was what she expected, but at that moment there came the sound of a door opening and footsteps descending the stairs. Her eyebrows lifted as Kane entered the kitchen, and without looking at her or Harlan, seated himself. She stared at him as if unsure whether to be puzzled or pleased by his presence. Eyes down, he sipped his tea and remained silent. She looked inquiringly at Harlan, as if he might know something about this development. He gave a slight shrug. Her expression unconvinced, she turned to scoop the bacon out of the pan. “There you go,” she said, placing a plate in front of Kane. “Nice and crispy. Just how you like it.”
The boy gave a low grunt of thanks. After slicing some bread for Harlan’s bacon, Susan leant against the work-surface, smoking and watching her son eat. When he was finished, Kane took his plate to the sink. As he headed back upstairs, he flashed Harlan the briefest of glances. His face wore its usual scowl, but his eyes were shadowed with uncertainty, as though something inside him — something fundamental to his character — had been shaken.
“Well, well,” said Susan. “What was that all about?”
Harlan gave another shrug.
“Has something happened between you two?” persisted Susan.
“No.” Harlan hated to lie to her, but neither did he want to risk upsetting the delicate balance of Kane’s mood. If he spilled about what’d happened, Susan would be upset and angry. Most probably, she would confront Kane. Maybe she would even change her mind about getting him psychological help. And perhaps she would be right to do so. But Harlan wanted to give the boy one more chance — a chance to deal with his hate internally, without having to go through the pain of therapy. He felt certain that last night had been some kind of turning point. Kane had faced the ultimate decision, and surely it’d made him realise what he was and what he wasn’t: he was a screwed up kid, but he wasn’t a killer. Of course, Harlan realised that if he was wrong it could cost him his life.
“Well something’s happened,” said Susan, her forehead crinkling as she cast around her mind for what that ‘something’ might be. “Otherwise there’s no way in hell he’d have sat at that table with you.” She sighed. “I suppose I should be pleased. Perhaps he’s finally coming to realise, like I have, that hate always hurts the hater more than it does the hated.”
Not always, thought Harlan. “Can I use your bathroom?”
Susan waved her hand slightly, a preoccupied gesture that said, you don’t need to ask. Harlan headed upstairs. As he reached the landing, Kane opened his bedroom door. They faced each other silently, Harlan keeping his expression neutral, Kane still teetering on the edge of uncertainty. Finally, his voice reluctant and thick with guilt, as if he was betraying something or someone, the boy whispered, “So you haven’t told her?”
“No.”
“How come?”
“She’s got enough on her plate right now. And besides, I didn’t want to get you in trouble.”
Kane’s mouth twitched, but no words came. He licked his lips agitatedly, then grunted — the same sound he’d made downstairs — and turned to go back into his room. This time, though, he didn’t close the door. He sat cross-legged on the threadbare carpet and began playing on a games console hooked up to a small television. Harlan’s gaze travelled the cramped bedroom, lingering on a mottled black damp patch above the window, before continuing to the bunk beds. The top one was a mess of crumpled sheets and magazines. The bottom one was made up with a faded duvet depicting some cartoon character or other. A few stuffed toys perched on its pillows, awaiting their owner’s return. Harlan felt a stab of sadness at the sight. It reminded him of the way he’d turned Tom’s bedroom into a shrine to a ghost. He wondered how long Susan would keep the bed like that if Ethan wasn’t found. The answer was as obvious as it was painful. The rest of her life. No body, no closure.
Harlan’s gaze returned to Kane. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions about the night Ethan was taken?”
“No,” said Kane, without taking his eyes from the screen. “But I dunno what I can tell you that I haven’t already told the cops.”
“Did the man who took Ethan sound like he was from around here?”
Kane shrugged. “He just sounded like a man.”
“Did you notice anything about him other than his voice?”
“Yeah, his wrists. They were really hairy.”
“Anything else? Did he smell of anything? Did his clothes or breath smell?”
“Yeah, he had this weird smell.”
“How do you mean, weird?”
Kane gave another shrug.
“Was it like cigarettes or alcohol?”
“I dunno what it was like, but it made my throat tickle. The cops got me to smell loads of different things. Paints and other stuff, but none of them had the smell I smelt.”
Harlan was about to inquire further about the smell, but his phone rang. He snatched it out, and a flush of adrenaline went through his veins when he saw Jim’s name. He pressed the phone to his ear. “Please tell me he’s talked.”
“He’s talked,” said Jim.
A hiss of relief escaped Harlan’s lips, drawing a curious look from Kane. “Thank fuck.”
“Before you go getting too excited, he hasn’t said anything about anything, he’s just agreed to cooperate with the line-up. We’re sending a car for the boy and his mother. It should be there soon.”
“I’ll let them know. Good work, Jim.”
“Don’t congratulate me. It was your idea to bring the old woman to see Nash. Besides, he’s still not opened up about Ethan or Jones.”
“But this is a start, and that’s a hell of a lot more than we had yesterday. We just need to find something to get the floodgates fully opened, then everything else will come pouring out. Maybe the line-up is that something.”
“Maybe. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m gonna work on him some more. I’ll speak to you later.”
“What was that about?” Kane asked, as Harlan hung up.
Harlan told him. Kane’s tongue flicked at his lips, and a tightness came into his face. “There’s nothing to be scared of,” Harlan reassured him. “Nash won’t be able to see or hear you.”
“I ain’t fuckin’ scared of him. If he comes after me, I’ll batter the shit out of him,” Kane responded defensively, but his bravado rang as hollow as the tremor in his voice.
“I’d better go tell your mum.” Harlan hesitated to leave Kane alone with his fear. He wanted to say something more to reassure him, but he knew any such words would be flung back in his face. As if to prove how unconcerned he was, Kane nonchalantly resumed his game. “Thanks for talking to me,” said Harlan. The boy gave no sign of having heard. Harlan’s eyes strayed briefly to Ethan’s bed again, then he turned to make his way downstairs.
A strange pale look came over Susan’s face when she heard what was going to take place. Like Kane, there was fear in her expression, but it was tempered by an almost violent eagerness. “What do you think it means? Do you think he’s ready to spill his guts?”
“I don’t know,” said Harlan, not wanting to give false hope.
Susan lit a cigarette, and puffing intensely on it, began pacing the kitchen. At the sound of a car pulling up outside, she darted to the front window. “It’s a police car.” She lifted her head. “Kane, get down here.” A few seconds passed. No sound of movement came from upstairs. “What the hell’s he doing?” Susan ran to the bottom of the stairs. “Kane, get a bloody move on!”
“Take it easy on him,” said Harlan. “He acts tough, but he’s just a scared kid.”
“He’s scared? What about me? I’m going out of my fucking-” Susan broke off as Kane appeared and made his
