Evan and Elle - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,71

don’t they? Why would they need a motor mower?”

“Exactly,” Evan agreed. “Oh dear. It looks like young Terry’s in for it.”

“Only a matter of time, wasn’t it? I thought as much when we caught the boy busting into my chocolate machines. Sometimes they’re born with criminal tendencies, aren’t they?”

Yes, but not Terry, Evan wanted to say. Terry was just a bright, angry boy who needed a father. With heavy heart he waited at the police station until it was time to walk over to the school. A group of boys pushed through the gate but Terry wasn’t among them. Then Evan saw him climbing the fence and leaping nimbly down—a typically Terry thing to do. Evan intercepted him as he landed. The boy’s face lit up.

“Constable Evans! You’re back? Did you catch the killer yet? Was it that creepy guy with the gun that I saw? I bet he was a Mafia bloke, wasn’t he? International crime and all that.”

Evan put a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. “Terry, you and I have to go and talk.”

“What about?” The boy’s face was still alight with anticipation. “You want my report on what went on while you were away?”

“It’s a little more serious than that, Terry,” Evan said. “Sergeant Potter in Caernarfon wants to talk to you about the fires.”

“He does?” Terry still looked excited. “You’re going to take me down to Caernarfon?”

“We should tell your mother first,” Evan said.

Terry shook his head. “She’s out at work, isn’t she? We’ll be back before her.”

“We have to call her, Terry,” Evan said. “She has to know.”

Terry opened his mouth to protest.

“You don’t want her to worry, do you?” Evan asked.

Terry shrugged and followed Evan down to the station to make the call.

“Does Sergeant Potter want me to be a witness?” Terry asked as he climbed in to Evan’s Car. “I didn’t see anybody light the fires, you know.”

“Didn’t you?” Evan asked. He started the engine and moved away from the curb.

“What do you mean?” For the first time the young face looked troubled.

“What did you buy petrol for, Terry?” Evan asked. “You don’t need a motor mower for your little lawn.”

Terry’s face flushed. “No, I know,” he said. “I thought I might get a job, see—mowing lawns. We’ve got a motor mower in the shed. But nobody around here has a big enough lawn, do they?”

Evan looked at him, wishing he could see inside the boy’s head. “Petrol was used to start two of those fires, Terry. You were the first person to spot the fire at the Everest Inn, weren’t you?”

“I was out on my bike,” Terry said.

“You must be feeling pretty angry that your dad walked out,” Evan said.

“Yeah, I suppose so. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Angry enough to start some fires?” Evan asked.

Terry looked shocked. “I didn’t start those fires—why would I want to start fires? I told you—I want to be a fireman like Bryn and put them out.” He turned to stare out of the car window. Evan tried to think what to say next. When Terry looked back at him, his face was a blank mask, and Evan felt a terrible sense of having betrayed the boy.

“I can prove I didn’t start the first fire, anyway, because Dai Mathias saw me climbing out of my window and he said, ‘You’re going to get it, Terry Jenkins,’ and I told him I’d beat him up if he told on me.”

Evan digested this piece of information. It had the ring of truth to it—not the kind of thing a child would make up on the spur of the moment.

“All right. We’ll talk to Dai,” he said. He reached out and touched the boy’s arm. “Look, Terry, I’m only doing my job,” he said. “I was told to bring you in and I’m bringing you in. Just tell the truth and nothing bad can happen to you.”

Terry managed a weak smile. “All right, Mr. Evans.”

As they passed the burned-out shell of the restaurant, Terry’s face became animated again. “Guess what, Mr. Evans? I saw that man again.”

“What man?”

“You know, the one I told you about—the foreign-looking bloke with the gun . . . driving the red sports car.”

“Wait a minute, Terry . . .” Evan was confused. “You’re saying you saw him again? Recently?”

“While you were away. He stopped me again and he asked me about the fire. He spoke really funny. I could hardly understand him. He wanted to know if anyone was killed in the