The Whisper Man(52)

“It happened a very long time ago.”

“Right.” Pete took a deep breath but still didn’t look at Daddy. He was just staring at the wall, and Jake thought he suddenly looked a lot older than he had when he’d first come into the room. “In that case, we can arrange somewhere for you to stay in the meantime.”

“That would be good, yes.”

“And I’m sure you’ll need some things. I can come back with you to your house if you like, and you can get some things you both might need. Spare clothes and things.”

“You need to be there?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. It’s a crime scene. I need to make a note of anything that’s removed.”

“Okay. That’s not ideal, is it?”

“I know.” Pete finally looked back at Daddy. “I’m sorry.”

Daddy shrugged, his eyes still glittering.

“It is what it is. So let’s get it over with, shall we? Jake—you’ll need to think about what toys you might want, okay?”

“Okay.”

But Jake looked from one of them to the other—Daddy and Pete—and still nobody was moving, or seeming like they knew what on earth to do next, and Jake decided that if he didn’t do something, then none of them would. So he put the empty juice box down on the table with a loud, decisive thud.

“My drawing things, Daddy,” he said. “That’s all I want.”





Thirty-three


Small triumphs on terrible days. You had to cling to them, Amanda thought, as she sat back down in the interview room across from Norman Collins. After the horrors she had seen last night, and the failure she felt at not finding Neil Spencer in time, she was ready for a little blood. And often the small victories were as much as you ever got.

“Sorry about the interruption, Norman,” she said. “Let’s continue.”

“Indeed. Let’s bring this to a swift conclusion, shall we?”

“Absolutely.” She smiled politely. “Let’s do just that.”

Collins folded his arms, smirking a little. Which didn’t surprise her. She’d understood from the moment she set eyes on him exactly what Pete had meant about there being something off about the man. He was the sort of person you instinctively crossed the street to avoid. The exaggerated formality of his attire struck her as being a kind of disguise—an attempt at respectability that failed to hide the unpleasantness beneath. And it was clear from his manner that he felt removed from other people. Superior to them, even.

Twenty minutes into the interview, with an answer to every question she had offered, he’d probably had every reason to feel superior to her. But then Steph had knocked and leaned into the room, and Amanda had signaled a break. Now she reached over, turned the recording equipment back on, and ran through the preliminaries.

Across from her, Collins sighed theatrically to himself. She looked down now at the sheet of paper she’d brought back in with her. It was going to be a pleasure to wipe the smirk off the creepy fucker’s face.

First things first, though.

“Mr. Collins,” she said. “For clarity, let’s quickly go back over some of the ground we’ve already covered. In July of this year, you visited Victor Tyler in Whitrow prison. What was the purpose of that visit?”

“I have an interest in crime. In certain circles, I am considered an expert. I was interested in talking to Mr. Tyler about his actions. Much the same, I’m sure, as the police have talked to him over the years.”

Probably not quite the same, Amanda thought.

“Did your conversation touch on Frank Carter?”

“It did not.”

“Are you aware that Tyler is friends with Carter?”

“I was not.”

“That seems strange. What with you being such an expert, and all.”

“One can’t be expected to know everything.”

Collins smiled. Amanda was sure he was lying, but the conversation between Collins and Tyler had not been recorded, and she had no way to prove it.

“All right,” she said. “Your whereabouts on the afternoon and evening of Sunday the thirtieth of July this year, the evening Neil Spencer was abducted?”

“I’ve already told you. I was at home for much of the afternoon. Later on, I walked to Town Street and dined in the restaurant there.”

“It’s good that you recall so clearly.”

Collins shrugged. “I am a creature of habit. It was a Sunday. When my mother was alive, we went together. Now I eat alone.”

Amanda nodded to herself. The owner of the restaurant had verified this, which meant that Collins appeared to have a solid alibi for the period of time in which Neil Spencer had been abducted. And, while the search of his house was ongoing, officers had so far found nothing to suggest Neil had ever been held there. Collins, she was sure, was neck-deep in whatever was going on here somehow, but right now he seemed to be in the clear for the actual abduction of Neil Spencer.

“Thirteen Garholt Street,” she said.

“Yes?”

“You attempted to purchase the property.”

“Indeed. It was for sale. I have no idea why that’s considered a crime.”

“I didn’t say it was.”