Spotlight by Robert Innes

Author:Robert Innes [Innes, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-10-23T23:00:00+00:00

As Patil drove Caroline to identify her son’s body, Blake leant against the wall of the house, inhaling on his ecig. It was doing nothing to lessen his cravings. An open packet of cigarettes appeared in front of him.

“Just have one,” Woolf implored. “I can tell you want to. The odd one won’t hurt you, trust me.”

Blake stared at the packet for a few seconds before sighing and taking one. Woolf lit it with his clipper lighter before snapping it shut with a dramatic flourish, puffing away on his own. “Well, I dunno, Harte. This whole thing smells funny to me. A car that vanishes, a drugged up waster hanging himself…” He turned towards Blake, who had gone to interrupt him. “Don’t tell me you believe any of that crap she was coming out with, Harte. I saw this sort of thing every day back home. Families pretending that they weren’t all screw ups. She’s probably out of her mind on something herself, or coming down of it. You’re too trusting, Harte.”

Blake blew out the smoke, regretting every inhale. “Let’s just say for a minute, that she’s telling the truth, and all those marks on his arms were just from his insulin jabs, that means that if Sharon does find something else in his system, then it wasn’t meant to be there. It makes no sense.”

“Exactly,” Woolf replied triumphantly. “It makes no sense at all, which is why it’s a load of crap. If a suspect tells you something that doesn’t make sense, then it isn’t true. I learnt that many years ago. I’d have thought you would too.”

“So by that logic, we’re lying about the car disappearing in that tunnel?” Blake retorted. “Because that sure as hell doesn’t make any sense. And Keith is somewhere out there.” He wandered towards the open door of the cellar and stepped inside. “And somehow, that car trick and the fact that we’ve got a hung body in a locked cellar who definitely didn’t die from what we’re supposed to think he did, leads to here.” He looked around the cellar, deep in thought.

“Angel wants us on the same page, Harte,” Woolf said sternly from the doorway as Blake paced around the cellar, the sound of the heels from his shoes on the wooden planks on the floor echoing around them. “We can’t work together if I’m the only one working with facts instead of fantasy. If we’re gonna crack this thing, then I need you with me.”

“You can’t force pieces that don’t go together to fit,” Blake replied quietly as he looked around the cellar.

“Not everything is straight out of a Conan Doyle novel, Harte. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about that crazy crap with the car last night.”

Blake raised a disdainful eyebrow. “Oh yes?”

“All we saw was the back lights of the Pennines’ car, right?”

“Right.”

“So obviously, he just turned his back lights off, then hit the gas and put on speed. He must have been out of that tunnel before I managed to get my headlights back on.

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