Steel City 01 - Blood Guilt by Ben Cheetham

Author:Ben Cheetham [Cheetham, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B005IHDOK8
Published: 2011-08-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

As Harlan passed into the sheltering dark of a street of unlit warehouses, his mask of implacable resolve slipped and his breath came in a sharp exhalation. He pulled over, tremors of revulsion running through him as he thought about how close he’d come to killing Jones. He’d been forced to go down into a place inside himself that he’d seen but never visited before, and the call of the darkness that lurked there had proved almost irresistible. He could still feel its voice at the back of his brain, like an itch demanding to be scratched. He flung open the door and sucked in lungfuls of the night. “Focus, focus,” he murmured over and over. Gradually the tremors subsided.

Harlan got out of the car and opened the boot. Jones goggled up at him, his face slick with sweat. As Harlan peeled away his gag, he gasped for breath like a drowning man pulled out of the water. “I’m claustrophobic,” he wheezed. “Please don’t keep me in here any longer.”

“I won’t, but try anything funny and it’s straight back in here. Understand?”

Jones nodded. Harlan helped him out of the boot and into the front passenger seat. Jones cried out as his weight came down on his pulverised hands. Giving him a warning look, Harlan cut the tape binding his wrists. He rebound his hands in front of him.

“Which way?” asked Harlan.

“Just get onto the motorway and I’ll tell you when to leave it.”

As fast as he dared, Harlan drove to the motorway. He kept one eye on the road and one on Jones. Jones watched him right back as if trying to work out what he was thinking. “I know who you are,” he said suddenly, eyes widening with realisation. “You’re that guy who killed Susan Reed’s husband. I’ve seen your face on the news. Your name’s H…Ha…”

“Harlan Miller.”

“Yeah, that’s it. You used to be a copper, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So you know you’ll never get away with this.”

“Who said anything about getting away with this?”

“You want to go back to prison?”

“I want to find Ethan Reed.”

“I understand. I get it. You want to save the boy to make up for what you did to his old man. But you and I both know he’s long beyond saving. Whoever took him did his thing and killed him weeks–”

“Shut up,” broke in Harlan, a twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Look, what I’m saying is there’s no need for this. You tell your copper mates about the caravan and they’ll find it in no time. Just let me go. Let me go now and I promise I won’t give your name to–”

“One more fucking word and it’s back in the boot for you.”

Jones grimaced at the threat. He fell to studying his hands. A great shudder racked him. “Maybe it’s best if you kill me,” he murmured. “Because if I can’t paint, I…I don’t know what I’ll do.”

I don’t know what I’ll do. The threat implicit in those words made Harlan go cold.

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