Blood Guilt Read Online Free

paper out of the envelope and
showed Jim the address.
    Jim frowned. “Bankwood
House, Callow Mount. That’s a shithole of a tower-block in a shithole
neighbourhood.”
    “Yeah, well you
should’ve seen my last place.”
    “Tell you what, why
don’t you doss down at my place? Just until you’ve had a chance to find your
feet.”
    “What about Garrett?
He’s not gonna be impressed if he finds out you’re associating with an ex-con.”
    Jim grinned. “Aw, fuck
him.”
    “Thanks for the offer,
but it wouldn’t be fair on you. Besides, and don’t take this the wrong way, but
I can’t be around that right now.”
    “Around what?”
    “Y’know, police talk.”
    “Oh right, so I’m the
past too, am I?”
    Harlan made no reply.
They headed out of Leeds, following the signposts for Sheffield. Jim made a
couple of attempts at small-talk, but when Harlan’s responses were brief or
non-existent, he gave up and they rode in silence. An hour or so later, they
pulled into the car-park of a tower-block, one of a cluster of six clad in
various shades of green and brown, like towering trees of concrete and steel. A
gang of sullen youths, all bling, white trainers, tracksuits and baseball caps
loitered against a graffiti-tagged wall. In the centre of the car-park a
stripped car squatted on its wheelless axles.
    “Well, here we are,”
said Jim. “Home sweet home.”
    Harlan collected his
few belongings from the backseat. “Thanks for the ride.”
    “No problem. You want
me to come up with you?”
    “I think I’d rather be
alone right now.” Harlan managed a smile. “Besides, from the looks of those
kids, leave your car here and you’ll be lucky if it’s still got wheels when you
get back.”
    “Listen, Harlan, I know
you feel you need to make a clean break, but if you change your mind about my
offer, or if you just want go out for a drink, or whatever, give me a call.”
    “I will. See you, Jim.”
    As Harlan headed into
the stairwell, the youths cast knowing glances at his sallow, sun-starved face
and the prison-issue plastic bag that contained everything he owned. He caught
the lift to the twelfth floor. The first thing that struck him on entering his
flat was the acrid stink of cleaning chemicals. Behind which lurked a faint
tang of something else, something coppery sweet. He knew what the smell meant.
Someone had recently died in the flat, and their body had lain undiscovered
long enough to begin decomposing. He made a quick tour of his new home:
whitewashed walls; cheap, thin carpets; a bedroom with a bed and bare mattress;
a tiny kitchen; an equally tiny, windowless bathroom; a living-room with a
hard-looking sofa, a fold-up table and two chairs. He opened a grimy,
weather-stained window as wide as it would go, then pulled a chair over to sit
in the current of air. He thought of Eve living with someone else. Loving
someone else. And again an ache filled his chest. “Let it go,” he murmured,
closing his eyes. “Let it go, let it go…”

 
    Chapter
2

 
    Harlan quickly settled into
a routine that left little time for reflection. Seven nights a week, at eight
o’clock he started work at the warehouse where his parole officer had found him
a job loading and unloading delivery vehicles. It was long hours of arduous,
mind deadening work, but that was fine with him. He slept – more often than not
with the help of a Valium – from seven in the morning till two in the
afternoon. That left six hours until his next shift. Those empty hours were the
most difficult. Sat in his flat with only the sound of the wind shrieking
against the windows for company, time seemed to stretch out like an elastic
band before him. So he took to walking the streets, but that didn’t stop him
from thinking, didn’t stop his mind from endlessly looping back. A feeling was
growing in him. He tried to ignore it, but as the weeks drifted by it
strengthened almost to a compulsion. He had to find the woman. He had to see
her. Not