Death Rider (The Rider Series Book 2)

by Samantha Bassett

  I looked up in complete shock. The solicitor was already putting his notebook back in his case, getting ready to leave. So, this was it. I had no credible defence, whereas I knew I hadn’t killed Olivia it was clear the rest of the world felt different.

  I allowed myself to be led back to the cells, sitting down heavily on the plastic bed. My life was over.

  * * *

  “Hilary?” There was a long silence at the end of the telephone.

  “I don’t think I should be speaking with you, Kate…”

  “No, wait…”

  “No Kate. Your husband has done a terrible thing. Please don’t call me again.”

  “No, but, please Hilary…”

  The phone went dead.

  * * *

  “Amanda, I can’t doubt him. But…”

  “Kate, he couldn’t have done it. I know my brother.”

  “Do you? Amanda, we have both only really known him for a year or so. What if he did this?”

  “Kate, you can’t believe that?”

  “What can I believe? I’m not sure anymore…”

  15

  A Mother’s Loss

  Horsegirl1 - Have you heard that Olivia Wright-Turner has been murdered?

  Ponymad - About time if you ask me… Bitch!

  Joddyboi - Yeah, I would like to shake whoever did that by the hand…

  PennysHorz - But it was pretty nasty, stabbed through the heart with a pitchfork…

  Ponymad - Did she have a heart?

  BootznSaddle - LOL

  Shetlands4Eva - No, she got what she deserved… Fu*king horse beater…

  Joddyboi - You mean at Burghley last year?

  Horsegirl1 - And almost every other show…

  Hoofprints Online Chat Room

  “Far be it from me to state that someone in the horse world should die, but let’s just say there isn’t a lot of love lost following the death of Olivia Bitch-Turner. Too many of us saw what she did to her horses. She was, by all accounts, a total bitch who should have been drummed out of the event circuit. It’s Hilary I really feel sorry for.”

  Maz Turner - Facebook

  “The horse world is reeling from the sudden and shocking death of Olivia Wright-Turner. Miss Wright-Turner was discovered at Hilary Wessington’s yard having been stabbed to death with a pitchfork and buried on the stables muck heap.

  A controversial figure in the equestrian world after a YouTube video of her abusing her horse at a major three-day event in 2019 there have been some terse outbursts on social media. A man has been charged with her murder; however, the police have not released any names at this time.”

  Horse World Magazine News Column

  “Feisty Horse Girl Meets Mucky End

  A popular horse rider and hopeful for team GB was last night stabbed to death with a pitchfork and dumped in a pile of horse muck. Shapely Olivia Wright-Turner, 18, pictured below, met her untimely end at the hands of what some suspect was a love rival. Read the whole gory story on page 7.”

  Daily Post

  * * *

  “Grace, are you sure you should be doing this now?”

  “Simon, my daughter has been murdered. I want justice. You have led my legal department for eight years; I want you to manage this.”

  “Grace I’m not a criminal lawyer…”

  “So, find one. I just want justice for my daughter, I want to make sure that the shit who killed my daughter in cold blood gets put away for a long time. I want his life destroyed; I want everything he was ever involved with ruined as I have been.”

  “You’re upset, we have to wait for the first hearing…”

  “No Simon. Listen to me, and listen well. I want everyone who could have been involved to be punished. I want his wife and his business; I want Hilary and her fucking horses. I want everything. Destroy them.” She hit the end call button and slammed down the phone.

  * * *

  “Mr Bishop.” I looked up seeing the custody sergeant standing in the cell doorway. “You should have been offered the chance to make contact with someone. I think the officers may have overlooked this, but is there anyone you would like to speak to, to tell you that you are here.”

  I stuttered. I’d been here overnight and had no idea what the time was, my watch, belt and even my bootlaces had been taken from me. “Please, could I speak with my wife?”

  He nodded and led me to the main lobby where he dialled a phone number, explaining he had found it on my phone which was being looked at for evidence. I heard the phone ring and then Kate’s voice. It was weak and it was clear she had been crying, I stuttered almost unable to speak.

  “Kate…”

  “Adam? Oh, God Adam! Oh, babe…” Her voice broke as she sobbed. I blinked hard, trying to be strong.

  “Kate, I don’t have much time. I’ve been arrested…”

  “I know… Oh, God… What’s happened.” There was a long pause. “You didn’t… Adam… Tell me, you didn’t… did you?”

  My heart dropped. The disbelief, even my wife thought I might have done this. “No… No… I could never do this… Kate, I love you… Shit! … They think I did it, everyone thinks I did it… Even you… I’m…” I gulped. “If I go to prison…” I couldn’t do any more. I put the phone down, staring at the sergeant. “I didn’t do it…”

  “Not for me to decide I’m afraid sir. Now, you have better get ready your first hearing will be later today.”

  My heart froze. I knew the process had to start. I’d been charged and now I would go to court for the first hearing. I would need to go to the Crown Court for trial and that could be in months. It meant, if I didn’t get bail, and the officers had made it clear I wouldn’t. I would be going to prison on remand.

  I gripped the counter in front of me. Waves of nausea hitting me, my knees gave way beneath me and I hit the ground.

  * * *

  I looked around, I was lying back on the plastic bed in a cell, there was a nurse beside me, she shone a light in my eyes before ripping a blood pressure cuff from my arm.

  “He just fainted.” The nurse sighed. “Look, he’s fine.” She stood up giving me a disgusted glance.

  “Right, it’s time for you to get to court.” I was asked to stand up and was brusquely handcuffed before being led from the cell out to a waiting prison van. I sat waiting until the vehicle engine started. We drove a short distance to the courts. There was a bustle of noise, shouts and flashes from outside of the van and, as I was led into the court building, I could see photographers and a jostle of journalists.

  Time passed slowly until I was brought into the courtroom. I sat, staring at my feet, still in my dusty breeches, field boots and my polo shirt embroidered with the Glebe Farm logo, my clothing felt incongruous in these surroundings.

  “All rise.” I was dragged to my feet as the judge walked into the courtroom. An older lady sat behind the bench.

  It was a blur; my supposed crimes were read out loud. I was accused of the murder of Olivia, how did I plead. I tried to say I hadn’t done it but was cut short.

  “Mr Bishop, how do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?”

  “Not guilty?” I gulped; my throat dry.

  I was to be held on remand before my trial. There was no bail offered in the circumstances. I heard shouts from the gallery above, glancing up I saw people baying for me, yelling abuse and, on the back row there was Sally, staring down impassively as I was dragged away.

  * * *

  “Mrs Bishop?” I responded and the male voice continued. “Hello, my name is Will Taylor, I work for Medina, Woolf and Sutton solicitors. Your solicitor Fraser Tate called me, he said he had seen you and had suggested you speak with us.”

  “Yes, of course, Mr Tate the solicitor.”

  “Okay, well, I have some news. Mr Bishop has already had his first hearing. Yes, I know. However, these things can happen pretty quickly. Not to worry, it can be more of a formality in this sort of case. I’m sorry to say that he was not allowed bail so
has been remanded in custody.” I questioned this. “Prison, Mrs Bishop. It means your husband will be held in prison until his case is ready to be heard at the Crown Court.”

  “Oh, God… How long will he be there?”

  “Mrs Bishop, I need you to know that we will do all we can for your husband. However, we have to prepare a case, as does the prosecution and there is a long backlog of cases for the Crown Court…”

  “How long?”

  “Honestly, it will be at least a year, maybe two… Mrs Bishop? Hello, are you still there?”

  * * *

  It was Caroline who came and fetched me from the farmhouse. I could see she was uncomfortable, not least by the way she was avoiding eye contact with me.

  “Caroline, what’s up?”

  “Kate it’s…” She gulped, clearly looking for a form of words that would not upset me. I closed my eyes for a moment to stop the tears which had been in them for days. “It’s a horsebox, Oscar’s here…”

  I followed her out onto the yard and there was a large commercial horsebox parked in the driveway. The rear door was open and I could see Steel Secret, or Oscar as we would call him being led down the ramp.

  I wasn’t sure what specifically broke me, but, if I was to name a point in time where the enormity of what was happening to me truly hit home, it would be the time that Adam’s horse returned to the yard without him.

  Jacqueline rushed across the yard towards me. She dealt rapidly with the driver, signing whatever paperwork there was and arranging the girls to take the horse and its tack before putting her muscular arms around my shoulders and holding me as I wept.

  * * *

  “The first hearing of Adam Bishop, the man charged with the callous murder of potential Olympian Olivia Wright-Turner was heard at York Magistrates Court today. Bishop is accused of stabbing Miss Wright-Turner with a pitchfork before burying her body-…”

  I switched off the television. What happened had hardly hit home, just to think just a few days ago we had all been together on the yard. Since then, my life had fallen into turmoil. The phone hadn’t stopped ringing with journalists wanting to hear ‘my side of the story’. I didn’t realise I’d had a story to tell, I’d found the poor girl, someone who had been my responsibility, killed by one of my staff. What more could I say?

  Then came the emails and calls from owners. Initially, they were all very polite hoping I was coping, however, the text soon turned to the prospects of their horses. Of course, I could never, even with sponsorship own the massively expensive horses I rode. They were the property of rich people for whom three-day eventing or showjumping was either a nice hobby where they could spend time sipping Champagne in country houses or a good way to write off tax.

  At least one owner had outwardly suggested that, with the poor publicity, they would be looking for a new rider to represent them and I was sure the others would follow. Of course, the final nail in the coffin was Grace.

  How the hell could I speak with her, I’d tried to apologise, to say how sorry I was but she had coldly told me that she held me solely responsible for the death of her only child. How I would feel the pain she was going through and how she would make it her main objective to ruin me. I was ruined already, what had happened had torn my heart from me, but, as the post had arrived on Monday morning it was made abundantly clear that there was a lot worse in store for me. I couldn’t understand most of the legal language, but what was clear was that Grace was suing me for everything I owned, and although that wasn’t a great deal, she wanted it all. On top of that, she was rescinding my lease on the stables and farmhouse. As she was the owner of the premises, house and stables, she could throw me out and was just about to.

  I grabbed the bottle of wine, spinning off the lid and throwing it where it landed with the others. My sponsorship, my horses, my stables, my home and my livelihood all gone. I wouldn’t even be able to teach lessons in a riding school after this, I’d read the reports in the papers and what people were saying about me.

  I slugged down the wine which burnt my throat. I was heartbroken and ruined.

  * * *

  I circled another advert in the back of Horse and Hound. I could see my place here was going to be seriously limited. Hilary had gone to pieces; I’d read the letters which had been sent to her.

  I would support her for as long as I could, but I needed to be ready to leap from the sinking ship, and her ship was taking in water fast.

  I turned back to the magazine, a sole charge hunt groom in a Devon country house. Own cottage and use of a car. Nice, less work and a stately home. I could live with that.

  16

  Visiting Time

  I was nervous before I even reached the prison, seeing the road signs for HMP Frankland made my stomach churn. I’d been driving for hours, travelling from Wiltshire to Durham and had to make the journey across to Cumbria afterwards to see Kate who was beside herself with fear.

  I pulled up in the car park, once again checking the instructions I’d been provided before walking towards the entrance. It had taken almost a week to even find where Adam was, with Kate’s solicitor making a series of frustrating phone calls before finally finding he was on the other side of the country. I was making the journey myself as Adam had added me to his visitor list and not Kate. I thought back to the phone call when she had told me, her voice filled as much with hatred and anger as concern. ‘Why will he not see me?’

  I stepped inside, checking again that I’d the visiting order and my identification.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m here to see Adam Bishop?”

  The guard was efficient and polite, checking my paperwork and then searching the items I’d brought for Adam. Nothing exciting, a book, underwear and toiletries. He asked me to sit and wait, I knew I was early so sat staring at my feet as the room slowly filled up with other visitors.

  “Your first time?”

  I looked up; an older woman was standing in front of me. She gestured to the chair beside me, I nodded and she sat down.

  “I could tell… You can always tell when it’s the first time. Maggie. My son’s in for burglary, stupid bugger.” She paused and I realised she was waiting for me to fill the gap.

  “Amanda, here to visit my brother. He’s on remand…” I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘for murder’ so just went silent.

  “Look, Mandy, it’s not so bad. I’m sure he’s coping, but you need to be strong for him. He won’t tell you how he’s feeling. Bloody men! But, if he is like mine, he’s just a frightened little boy, despite the bravado. It gets better as time goes on. Not for us, but they settle soon enough. It’s like a boy’s club for them, playing Xbox and watching TV, lazy sods. They soon forget about us on the outside.”

  “I hope not…”

  “Here, we are, time to go in.” Maggie reached down and squeezed my hand. “Come on girl, be strong for him now…”

  * * *

  Walking into the prison was intimidating, even though I knew I would be walking out again in an hour or so but still felt the walls closing in around me, all the guards and detailed rules, all bearing down on me. I walked with the other visitors until we reached a large room, my hand was stamped and I was ushered to sit down at a table. I waited nervously, chewing my nails until the prisoners started to walk in.