Ten more minutes passed. Harlan stared at his phone as if willing it to ring, but it remained infuriatingly silent. Thrusting it into his pocket, he made his way back to his car. He approached it warily, scanning the car-park for Neil. He was nowhere to be seen. He got into the car and started it up. As much as he was reluctant to leave Neil unwatched, he couldn’t risk spending the night there. He pulled out of the parking-space, jamming his foot on the break as Neil appeared from behind a van. Neil’s eyes weren’t dancing now. They were fixed on Harlan. Pushing his glasses up on his nose, he approached the driver’s side window. “Are you following me?” He still sounded nervous, but there was a kind of forced courage behind his voice.
Harlan motioned with his chin at the front passenger door. “Get in.”
Hesitantly, Neil made his way to the door and ducked inside. Harlan accelerated towards the car-park’s exit. “Hey, what you doing?” said Neil. “I’m working. I only nipped out for a sandwich. I’ll get in trouble if I’m not back on the wards soon.”
Harlan made no reply. As he pulled into the last remnants of the rush-hour traffic, he watched Neil out of the sides of his eyes, studying every movement of his features.
“Where are we going?” persisted Neil. More stony silence. “Hey, I asked you-” he started to say, but his nerves got the better of him, and the words stuck in his throat. He sat stiffly with his thin hands clasped in his lap. His tongue flicked at his lips. His eyes flicked at Harlan. That dancing look came into them again as the car turned onto the Penistone Road. One of his hands moved towards his coat pocket.
“Don’t,” said Harlan, his voice hard with warning.
“I just need to phone my manager, let him know I’m okay.”
Harlan shook his head, holding out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
“What for?”
“Just fucking do it.”
Neil reluctantly handed over his phone. It started to ring. ‘Susie’ flashed up on the screen. “Who is it?” asked Neil. His eyes widened when Harlan told him. “Let me talk to her. Please, it must be something important. She never usually rings me at work.”
Harlan put the phone in his pocket, watching closely for Neil’s reaction. A slight flush rose into Neil’s cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again without doing so.
“Go on, say what you were going to say,” said Harlan, wanting to see if he could draw some kind of angry response from Neil.
Blinking, Neil dropped his gaze to his lap. They drove on in silence, passing a number 77 bus. Neither of them exchanged a word until they pulled over outside ‘Ace Racing’. Then Harlan turned to Neil and gave him the hard stare he’d perfected as a cop, the one which said, I know everything so you might as well spill it. Neil’s eyes flickered crazily all over the pace, but he held his silence. “How much do you owe?” Harlan’s voice was even and low, but there was a weight behind it that was calculated to knock Neil off balance.
“I…I…” stammered Neil, then he sucked his lip into his mouth and pinched it between his teeth, staring at his clasped hands.
Like a father disappointed in a child, Harlan sighed and shook his head. “Listen up, Neil, at the moment I’m the only one who knows about this. If you want to have any chance of keeping it that way, you’d better tell me what I want to know right now.” No matter what Neil told him, he had no intention of keeping it between them. Using a lie to uncover the truth always left a sour taste in his mouth, but he’d long ago come to accept that the ability to do so was one of the most important tools in any detective’s toolbox.
Neil released his lip suddenly and touched a finger to it. Blood. He stared at the crimson droplet as if trying to work out what it was. “Nearly ten thousand.” His voice was tiny as the squeak of a mouse.
“Is it a gambling debt?”
“I’ve never gambled in my life. It was a loan.”
“What for?”
Neil gave a slight shrug. “A car, clothes, furniture, rent for my flat.”
“But you live with your parents.”
“I do now, but a few years ago I moved out and lived in a flat in Ranmoor.”
Harlan’s eyebrows lifted. Ranmoor was an upscale suburb on the south side. Neil obviously had ambitions to escape Manor Lane. “That’s a long way from the Manor.”
Neil’s nose wrinkled as if the word ‘Manor’ smelled bad, but he said nothing.
“What’s the flat’s address?”
“340 Manchester Road. Flat 1b.”
“Nice place was it?”
Again a shrug. “It was just a one bed-roomed basement flat, but I liked it.”
“How long did you live there?”
“A couple of years.”
“So you lived above your means and ended up having to run home to mum and dad. That must’ve hurt.”
Neil remained silent, but his expression answered all.
“Who put you in contact with Dawson?”
“A friend.”
“Name?”
“Dave Brierly. A guy I play darts with.” Neil’s eyes blinked as though he had a pain behind them. “He told me not to go to Dawson, but I didn’t listen. I must’ve been mad. I never seem to be able to pay off what I owe. The debt just keeps getting bigger.”
“That’s how scumbags like Dawson operate.” Looking at Neil’s tired boy-man face, Harlan felt a needle of sympathy. Alcoholic father, Manor Lane, no prospects — the kid hadn’t exactly been dealt much of a hand. He pushed the emotion aside. He couldn’t afford sympathy, not considering what was at stake. “Why didn’t you tell the police about your debt?”
“I’ve never told anyone about it. Not even my parents.”
“Why?”
Neil was silent a moment, then he said quietly, “I was ashamed. When I had to give up my flat and return home, I felt such a…a…” He trailed off as if he couldn’t bear to say the word.
Harlan said it for him. “Failure.”
Neil nodded, his head hanging low as if a heavy weight was pressing on the back of it.
“And is that why you haven’t told Susan either?”
“That and because, well, she’s already got so much to deal with. I don’t just mean with Ethan, I mean with her being a single mum and barely having enough money to get by. I was afraid that if she found out she’d leave me. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“Sure I can, but I don’t think that’s all there is to it. Is there, Neil?”
Eyes wide and glistening, Neil jerked his head up. “What do you mean?”
“A young boy’s been abducted and you’re hiding things from the police. You must see how that looks.”
“I know it looks bad, but you’ve got to believe me it’s got nothing to do with Ethan’s abduction.” Neil pressed his hand over his heart in avowal. “I love that boy. Since he was taken I’ve done everything I can to try and help get him back. I’ve handed out thousands of missing-person posters, I’ve helped organise fundraisers, I’ve-”
“Maybe you’re just trying hard not to look suspicious,” cut in Harlan. “I’ve been involved in plenty of murder investigations where someone’s come forward to offer their help only to turn out to be the killer.”
“Why would I take Ethan?”
“Plenty of reasons. Maybe you sold him to a paedophile ring. Maybe you’re a paedophile yourself. Or maybe you’ve cooked up some plan to get your hands on the reward money.”
Neil shook his head vehemently, eyes bulging at Harlan. “You’re crazy.” His voice rose as indignation overcame his submissiveness. “I love Ethan.”
Ah, so you can get angry, thought Harlan, returning Neil’s stare impassively. “So you said.” He took out his phone and pushed its buttons as slowly and deliberately as he was pushing Neil’s.
“Who are you phoning?”
“The police.”
A sick look came over Neil’s face. “But you said if I told you what you wanted to know you’d keep this between just you and me.”