No Way Home. Jack Slater

want to. Or, at least, unless your body wants to and your mind isn’t off in some other place entirely.’

      ‘Have you…?’ Tommy swallowed and dropped his gaze. His voice was little more than a whisper when he spoke again. ‘Have you seen the videos he made?’

      ‘Not all of them, but yes – some.’

      ‘Well, most of it was faked. Low light. Careful camera angles. Sharp editing. You’ve seen his darkroom and video suite?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘He’s good at it. People pay a lot for what he does. He sends stuff all over.’

      Colin frowned. ‘How do you know that?’

      ‘I helped post them. I saw the addresses.’

      ‘Is there a record of those addresses anywhere?’

      Tommy shook his head. ‘No. And I don’t remember any specifics – just some of the towns and cities that I saw.’

      Colin nodded. ‘OK. But, back to the matter at hand. As you say, a lot of it could be faked, but not all. In some of it, it’s clear you were a willing participant.’

      Tommy’s hands slapped down on the table. ‘OK. So, a few times, I had to let myself get into the moment. If I didn’t, he’d beat the shit out of me. Have you seen those videos?’

      Colin looked horrified. ‘No.’

      ‘Well, they exist. They’re around somewhere. He’d…’ Tommy’s eyes closed and he let his head drop forward as he clamped his jaw shut, hands balling into fists on the table. He took a couple of deep breaths. Looked up. ‘I couldn’t stop him.’

      He saw Colin’s arm move as if he was going to reach across the table, but the big man held himself in check. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But Burton’s trial’s in just seven weeks. We need you willing and able to testify in case his defence team call you. You need to have everything straight in your mind and we need to know the facts in case we need to cross-examine you, to refute any of his accusations.’

      Tommy nodded. ‘I understand.’

      ‘So, let’s move on. Once you got away from Burton, where did you go?’

      Tommy shrugged. ‘Wherever I could find a place to doss, at first. I stayed around the city for a while.’

      ‘How did you eat?’

      ‘I got stuff wherever I could. It’s surprising what you can find, especially if you’re not picky.’

      ‘And you broke into your house while the family were out, at least once.’

      Tommy nodded. ‘Just the once. To get some things.’

      ‘You waited till they were out. Did you know what they were out doing?’

      Tommy shook his head. ‘I just knew they were going out, so I had a chance to get in and get what I needed.’

      ‘You must have found out at some point, though?’

      ‘What – about the posters? Yeah, I saw one or two a couple of days later.’

      ‘Your dad – a policeman – broke the law to put them up. Why didn’t you respond?’

      ‘Broke the law? What law?’

      ‘There’s a bylaw against posters in the city. Point is, your dad knew that. He put his career on the line to reach out to you.’

      Tommy couldn’t stop his face twisting into a grimace. ‘Yeah, right. Good old dad. You can always trust him to do the right thing. Even if it’s bringing his own son in for rape and murder.’

      Colin’s head was shaking slowly. ‘We wanted you in as a witness, that was all. There were no charges. Your mum and dad just wanted you home.’

      ‘What about what you said before? The forensics. My hands on that girl’s throat.’

      ‘Which you’ve explained.’

      ‘Yeah, but…’ Tommy slumped forward so his head rested on his folded arms. Moments passed. Finally, he looked up, rubbed his eyes. ‘So, you mean…? All this time… Hiding out in holiday cottages, moving on every few weeks, fishing and nicking to eat all winter. There was no need?’

      Colin shook his head.

      Tommy slumped back in his chair, head falling back as he stared at the ceiling. ‘Fuck.’ He looked down quickly. ‘Sorry. That slipped out.’

      Colin smiled. Then he sat forward. ‘But now we are where we are. These charges aren’t going away. They’ve come from Plymouth, not Exeter. So, it’s not up to your dad or me. We’ve got to play the hand we’ve been dealt.’

      ‘But, can’t I make some sort of deal? Testifying against Mr Burton for a consideration on the other stuff?’

      Colin shook his head. ‘’Fraid not, son. Testifying against Burton’s in your best interests anyway. You can’t have two bites at the same cherry.’

      ‘So, I’m stuck here, whatever?’

      ‘For now, yes. We’ll have to see what happens after.’

      ‘And you said Mr Burton’s case is coming up in seven weeks. What about mine?’

      Colin shrugged. ‘It’s relatively minor…’

      ‘Yeah, but so am I. A minor, I mean. So, they shouldn’t keep me in any longer than necessary, surely? For my long-term wellbeing. Mental scarring and all that.’

      Colin’s eyebrows rose. ‘Have you been reading law books in here or something?’

      Tommy shook his head. ‘They explained it all when I came here.’

      ‘OK. Well, the juvenile court’s separate from the adult one, so there doesn’t need to be a delay in one because of what’s going on in the other. But, I don’t know how soon they’ll get to your case. What I do know is that you’ll be held on remand until they do.’

      ‘How’s that fair?’

      Colin shook his head. ‘I’m just telling it like it is, son. It can’t be any other way in the circumstances.’

      Tommy grimaced. ‘So, at the end of the day, you want my help but you’re not going to help me.’

      Again, Colin looked like he was about to reach across the table, but held back. ‘I’m sorry, son. If I could, I would. You know that.’

      *

      When Colin had gone, Tommy went back to his room. He kicked the door shut behind him and flopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. That hadn’t gone too badly, he thought. He’d steered the conversation in the directions he wanted without making it obvious. Had said enough to promote his own case without incriminating himself. And he thought he’d managed to come across as a victim – a regretful and unwilling participant in Malcolm Burton’s crimes rather than a co-conspirator.

      Now, he had just seven weeks to maintain that impression and make sure he could do the same in court with Burton’s solicitor badgering him. His story would have to be solid and flawless and he would have to know it backwards, forwards and sideways, to the extent that even he believed every word. He would have to be the little boy lost, the hapless victim, the innocent caught up in things he didn’t understand and couldn’t control.

      Could he do it?

      He smiled. The smile turned into a chuckle. He’d been doing it for years. There was nothing new here.

CHAPTER SIX

      ‘Talk to me here, now – it’ll take two minutes and you won’t lose anything by it. Or we can take it down the station. You’ll lose a couple of hours. Maybe a couple of punters.’