Souls At Zero (A Dark Psychological Thriller) (17 page)

"So, Mr Edger," Black began, seemingly satisfied that he had finally got his man. "We have you on a number of charges, including kidnapping and assault with a deadly weapon. You won't be going anywhere for a while, so why don't you tell us what you were up to."

"We know your daughter has been kidnapped for some reason," McKee said, her tone as sharp as her nose. "Are you going to tell us why now?"

Edger said nothing.

McKee shook her head.

"Come on, Harry," Black said, lounging back in his chair. "You might be screwed, but your daughter doesn't have to be. Tell us what you know so we can help her."

Edger said nothing.

"Do you not care what happens to your daughter, Mr Edger?" McKee asked.

Edger's jaw muscles tensed.
Of course I fucking care what happens to my daughter
, he felt like screaming at the cop.
Why do you think I've ended up here in a fucking police station?

But he said nothing.

"Did the kidnapper ask you to kill the Lord Mayor?" Black asked. "Is that why you were there?"

Edger remained silent.

McKee sighed. "This is a waste of time," she said, standing up. "He's not talking." She threw him a look before she left the room.

Black leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I don't blame you for trying to help your daughter," he said. "I've two daughters myself. If someone ever took them from me, God forbid that ever happened, I would do anything to get them back as well. But I wouldn't be stupid enough to not accept help from those who wanted to give it, if it meant getting my daughters back. You see what I'm saying, Harry? My children are the most precious thing in the world to me, and if for some reason I couldn't help them, then I would find someone who could. You understand?"

Edger stared at Black for a moment, then looked away. He had no doubt the cop was genuine in wanting to help him get Kaitlin back, but Edger also knew that no one could get Kaitlin back but him. The whole situation revolved around him for whatever reason, and therefore he had to be the one to handle it. But that was all well and good when he wasn't in police custody. Now he was fucked in more ways than one. He was going to jail, and he couldn't help Kaitlin from jail.

"You don't really have a choice here, Harry," Black said. "You either let us help you, or leave the fate of your daughter in the hands of the person who abducted her." He stood up. "Think about it. I'll be back soon to formally charge you."

When Black left the room, Edger let out a long breath, then he leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. What the fuck was he going to do? If he did bring the cops in on it, what were
they
going to do? The only possible help Edger could envision the cops giving was in trying to locate the kidnapper via the mobile phone the kidnapper had given Edger. Maybe he could make another call, explain his current situation to the kidnapper while the cops tried to get a location on the kidnappers phone. But what if the kidnapper decided to end the whole thing because Edger was no longer in a position to help him? Would the kidnapper then just kill Kaitlin and be done with it?

Fuck it. He had to let the cops help. He decided to tell Black about the mobile phone the kidnapper had provided him with. He would then make a call, and the cops could get a location. Hopefully. That was the only thing they could do.

Black was at his desk, getting the paper work ready so he could formally charge Edger, when he got the word from one of the detective constables that he was wanted in the Chief Inspectors office. "Now?" he asked. "I'm a bit busy here."

"Chief says it's important, Paul," the constable said.

Black sighed and stopped shuffling the papers on his desk. "I'll be there now."

Detective Chief Inspector David Holmes' office was just down the hall from the main incident room. Black made his way there, wondering what Holmes wanted. Probably a progress report on the Edger case. No doubt the Lord Mayor was breathing down the Chief's neck to make sure Edger got the full measure of the law, which Black had no problem in ensuring anyway. He knocked on the door of the Chief's office, and then walked in.

DCI Holmes was sitting behind his desk, a rugged man in his fifties, with swept back grey hair and heavy jowls. The jacket of his dark suit was draped over the back of his leather swivel chair, and his dark blue tie was loosened and pulled open to reveal an open shirt collar. "Paul," he said in his gravelly voice. "Take a seat. I've something to tell you."

"You don't look happy about it, Davie, whatever it is," Black said.

"I'm not. Far from it."

Black frowned. "Is this about Edger? I'm about to charge him."

Holmes stared at Black with eyes like chips of granite. "You'll have to let him go."

Incredulous, Black shook his head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me. You'll have to let Edger go."

Black stared back at his superior, expecting Holmes to burst out laughing, like this was all some sort of stupid joke. Except he knew Holmes wasn't the joking type. "You can't be serious, Davie. The guy was going to kill the fucking Lord Mayor. How can we just let him go?"

"Not my decision, Paul. This comes from the Superintendent, who was just passing the order on to me himself. Somebody high up wants Edger released, effective immediately."

"This can't be right, he's—"

"Right or wrong, we both have our orders. Release him."

"Just like that? Is he intelligence or something? MI5?"

"I don't know what he is. I'm as in the dark as you are on this."

"Edger is a dangerous man. His daughter has been kidnapped. He'll kill people to get her back."

Holmes sighed, clearly as unhappy in his own way over the situation as Black was. But Black also knew the decision had been made, and there wasn't anything either of them could do about it. Besides, it wasn't the first time they would have had to release clearly guilty men. Black wondered if it was just a coincidence that they had the very man Edger intended to kill tonight on child porn charges a few years ago, only to be told that he was to be let go as well. And McGinty wasn't the only one. There had been at least half a dozen others over the course of Black's career, all brought in on various charges with incontrovertible evidence held against them, only to walk free a short time later thanks to orders from above. No one was allowed to question these decisions. Black did once and ended up being demoted on grounds of drinking on the job. Which was ridiculous, because at the time, half the fucking force drank on the job.

"You're to let this go," Holmes said. "Which means no further investigation into Edger once he's released. You've plenty of other cases to work on. I suggest you concentrate on those instead if you know what's good for you. That's all, Inspector."

Holmes went back to whatever he was doing, sorting through paper work.

Black continued sitting.

"I said that's all, Inspector," Holmes barked.

Black shook his head and stood up. "Yes, sir."

When Black walked back into the interview room half an hour later, Edger knew something was wrong with the man. The cop's expression was dark, and he hardly looked at Edger as he came and sat down. Edger waited, wondering what had changed. The air of satisfaction at having brought in his man had now left the detective. The air the cop gave off now was one of distinct dissatisfaction and barely concealed anger. His hard grey eyes fixed on Edger. "Who the fuck are you, Edger?" he asked.

"What?"

"I said, who are you?"

Edger shook his head in confusion. "I'm not following you."

A cynical laugh came from Black's mouth. "I'm sure you're not."

"What's going on Detective?"

"What's going on is that I've been ordered to release you."

Edger couldn't have been any more shocked if Black had punched him in the face. "What? Why?"

Black sat forcefully back in his chair. "You tell me."

"You think I've something to do with it?"

"Well obviously. Is that why you've been so calmly uncooperative?"

Edger shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. Just like all the rest."

Edger was as confused by this newest development as Black clearly was, but he thought it better not to show his confusion too much. Better if Black thought Edger had someone high up looking out for him. Perhaps then the cop would leave him alone. "I can go now then?"

"You can go."

Edger stood up and went to leave the interview room.

"Edger," Black called, without turning round.

Edger paused by the door.

"I don't care what anyone else says. You're a dangerous man. You belong in jail. The first chance I get, I'm putting you there."

Edger walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Edger collected all his belongings—jacket, wallet, watch, two mobile phones, zippo lighter and tobacco tin, plus his car keys—from the front desk of the police station. "What about my gun?" he asked the duty officer. The duty officer, a thick necked twenty something with a hard stare on him, said, "Are you joking?"

Edger just looked at him.

"Your gun has been confiscated," the duty officer said. "Your licence has also been revoked. Your car is outside in the parking area."

Edger took his belongings and left the station, walking out into the windy darkness where he soon found his car. He got inside and looked at the phone the kidnapper had given him. There was a text on it, which Edger opened. TIME'S A TICKIN the text said. The clock on the phone said 2:27 a.m.

"Fucks sake," Edger muttered. The deadline was 4:00 a.m. What the hell was he going to do?

He looked at his own mobile phone to see several missed calls on it. Two from Rankin, one from Gemma, and three from Donna Lennon, obviously wanting updates on the situation.

After rolling himself a cigarette, Edger started the car and drove out of the station to the Lisburn Road. He drove about half a mile before pulling the car into the side of the road and turning the engine off.

Picking up his mobile phone of the front seat, he dialled Rankin's personal mobile number. "Hello?" said a groggy voice upon answering. "Harry? Is that you?"

"It's me," Edger said.

"What's happening, Harry?" Rankin sounded more awake now. "Did you do it?"

"No. I tried though. Got arrested."

"Fuck. Are you in the police station?"

"I was released. I take it you had nothing to do with that?"

"No, Harry. I didn't even know you'd been arrested. You're saying they released you? What were the charges?"

"Breaking and entering, holding a gun to the Lord Mayor's head…"

"Jesus, Harry. And they released you? I can't believe that."

"Neither can I. Either someone's looking out for me, which I doubt, or someone wants me out for other reasons."

"You think it was the bastard who took Kaitlin?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I'm going to call him now."

"Watch your back, Harry. Who knows who else is involved in this thing."

Edger ended the call and stared out the window for a minute, thinking about what Rankin said. Was it possible there were others involved in Kaitlin's kidnapping?

He picked up the burner phone from the front seat and dialled the kidnappers number.

"Job done?" the kidnapper asked when he answered. "I never got a photo showing proof of death."

"No," Edger answered. "Things went wrong at McGinty's house. I got arrested."

There was silence on the line for a moment. "Where are you calling from? I hope not the police station."

"No. They let me go. Was that you?"

"Your release had nothing to do with me."

"Then who? The cops had me by the balls. I was going to jail."

Another silence, this one longer. "You have ninety minutes to complete your mission, Harry."

Edger shook his head in disbelief. "I need more time. The cops will be all over McGinty's house now. I'll not get anywhere near him."

"That's unfortunate, but not my problem."

Edger's teeth clenched. "What the fuck do you mean it's not your problem? I can't kill someone if I can't get near them. Just give me more time. I'll get it done."

Silence again, then, "You have eighty-nine minutes to complete your mission, or I start hurting your daughter."

The line went dead.

Edger dropped the phone in his lap and battered the steering wheel with both hands. "Fuck-fuck-fuck!"

A sense of deep desperation was beginning to take hold of him, the kind of desperation he hadn't felt since one of his last jobs in Iraq, when his convoy was ambushed by insurgents and he was nearly killed. He feared for his life that day, just like he was fearing for his daughter's life now. As he leaned his head on the steering wheel, he wished he had never come back to Belfast, never contacted Gemma or Kaitlin. If he had stayed away, none of this would be happening.