Page 139 of 36 Hours
‘I asked you about the rape the last time I was here, and I should have realised how uncomfortable that made you all.’
No one spoke.
‘Eric, I believe you set the trail on the Little Trekkers website in all innocence for people to enjoy. I believe that Boyce told you what he’d done to one of the women who was following it and you removed it.’
‘You think, you believe. What proof do you have?’ he asked as colour flooded his face.
‘You wear Old Spice, Mr Lane?’
He didn’t answer, but Kim remembered when he had passed her in the doorway last night. There had been no smell of alcohol, but she had smelled his aftershave.
‘And Boyce tends to copy a lot of things you do,’ she said, staring at the eldest son, who still chose not to speak. Instead, he was looking from his mum to his dad.
An unusual reaction given that she was accusing him of rape.
Suddenly, Boyce bolted for the door. Bryant stopped him easily.
‘If I’m wrong, give me a DNA sample and you’ll be immediately cleared. Yes or no?’ she asked.
‘No,’ Eric Lane answered before his son could speak. ‘He’s not giving you anything.’
And that was all the confirmation she needed. Boyce had done it, and his parents knew about it.
She approached the young man with whom she had never exchanged a word and looked right into his terrified little eyes.
‘Boyce Lane, I am arresting you for the sexual assault of Melissa Keene.’
By the time she’d finished the caution and placed cuffs on him, she was well and truly ready to go home.
ONE HUNDRED FOUR
Bryant switched off the engine and let out a long sigh before getting out of the car.
Often when they finished a case, he would go somewhere else before returning home, sometimes a café, sometimes a beauty spot. Other times he’d just drive a few miles out somewhere, turn around and then drive home. It was his way of blowing the case off his clothes, of leaving it outside his house, not taking the negativity back to Jenny.
He realised that despite having been gone for almost forty hours, he should still have placed a separation between work and home, but he was desperate to see his wife. He wanted to be around the woman who had given his life meaning for almost thirty years.
He’d never understand why or how Fred Guest had been able to torture a defenceless guy like Hiccup and allow him to die in a horrific manner, but he also couldn’t help thinking about Fred’s life. That he had had no loving wife or meaningful relationship with anyone. That he’d had no children to give him joy and didn’t seem to have any friends. His whole life had been given to taking care of his father. The thought saddened him, and he let out another long breath as he got out of the car.
He stepped inside the gate and paused.
It seemed like a long time ago that he’d been annoyed about spending his Sunday mowing the lawn and weeding the borders. It didn’t seem so much of a chore anymore, but now, magically, it was done.
Bryant sometimes wondered about his own life. Did he live a small, inconsequential existence that would find no place in history?
He had a wonderful wife, a well-mannered and caring daughter. He had a job that he enjoyed and which challenged him. He had an occasional tussle on the rugby pitch, and he went dancing weekly. He had a couple of friends from his college days and a couple he’d made over the years from work or rugby.
He opened the front door to his home as eager to see Jenny as he had been when they were in their twenties. The first thing to greet him was the smell. He was an old-fashioned guy, and his favourite meal was good old egg and chips. Not a meal he was allowed too often.
Jenny turned and gave him that smile. The one that told him that even after all these years, she was just as happy to see him.
‘Hey, husband,’ she said, reaching for a frying pan.
‘Hey,’ he said in a voice that caused her to put the frying pan down and move towards him.
Neither spoke as they hugged long and hard.
Eventually, he pulled back and met her gaze. ‘The garden is done,’ he acknowledged.