As I stared out the window in the dark night, the moor now barely visible except in the weak, outer edges of the car headlights, I ran over everything that had happened in my head. Hearing Maha’s scared cry and Jake’s look of shocked betrayal. How Henry had held Sarah by the throat and how he’d looked, curled up on the ground groaning.
I’d done my job. Sarah and Maha were safe, more than half thanks to Maha herself, and everyone was alive. Relief was slow to come, but as my limbs stopped shaking with the after-effects of adrenaline, I sunk back into my warm seat and let my eyes fall closed.
Twenty-Four
The town was abuzz with the news of what had happened up on the moor. I couldn’t go down to the shops without getting asked about it, or congratulated. It unsettled me, and I tried to avoid it as much as possible, hanging on at the station till late before I walked quickly home.
My aching body had taken a while to return to normal, but I knew it would take Maha and Sarah longer to get the memory of that night out of their minds.
Debriefing at the station had taken longer than I’d have liked, as I walked through how Maisy had accidentally killed Freddie and then blackmailed Graham into keeping her secret.
“And he started threatening to tell because he was visiting Freddie’s grandmother, Maggie,” Kay put in sadly.
I nodded. “Graham felt guilty about Maisy getting away with what she’d done and wanted Maisy to own up. So Henry hatches a plan. Maisy breaks into the house, looking for medication like Henry had instructed. They’d probably hoped to find that Graham took something, but there was only Sarah’s Coumadin.”
“Which contains Warfarin, the same as the rat poison found on the farm, hidden under a bunch of farm equipment,” Gaskell said.
After the hostage-taking, we’d been allowed a warrant to search the farm where the rat poison had been found. Henry was too smart for there to have been fingerprints on the packaging, but the circumstantial evidence was persuasive.
“Exactly, sir,” I agreed. “Which Henry knew, because he’d done chemistry at uni. So they poisoned Graham with the warfarin sometime before he went running with me, probably around a day beforehand.”
“Which he confessed to doing when he was interviewed,” Hogan said.
“How was it administered exactly?” Kay asked.
“Henry told us that he’d pretended to be a plumber in the week before Graham’s death, and he dosed Graham’s instant coffee with the warfarin. The strong taste covered the poison, and the granules absorbed the liquid.”
They’d found a significant amount of it still left in the container in Sarah’s kitchen, and I’d felt sick when I first learnt that information. I didn’t think Sarah drank coffee generally, but if she had, we could’ve ended up with two murders, and the fact that Henry had just shrugged at this had made me want to thump him.
“He goes running with me,” I said, forcing myself to finish the account, “and gets sick. Henry was there, having timed when the poison would be mostly absorbed, and wiped Graham’s phone. It was him I saw behind the garden wall.
“It was Henry, too, that tried to kill me in the Land Rover.” I swallowed thickly, and Kay sent me a concerned look. “And Jake and his ex-army friend who tried to shoot me, twice. Henry confessed to giving them the location for where I’d be because he’d been watching me.”
That still disturbed me. Henry had seemed almost gleeful as he’d watched me across the table in the interview room, which had been so different to the previous interview we’d had with him when he’d been manipulating all of us.
“Jake was lied to, though,” Gaskell acknowledged, and I nodded.
“Yes, sir. They fed him lies from the start. That Graham had tried to steal from the school, and that we’d hushed it up. He never knew about Freddie at all. And then he’d been told that Graham’s death had been an accident, that he’d fallen while they tried to make him confess to theft.”
I was willing to swear to the fact that even though Jake had tried to kill me, he’d been manipulated, and that he’d been instrumental in getting Maha and Sarah out.
“But why did he care so much about Graham’s supposed theft and your cover-up that he’d try to kill you?” Hogan said. “That’s completely out of proportion.”
“I know, that didn’t make sense to me either. Until he told us that his late fiancé had died of cancer. That was the charity that his siblings told him Graham had stolen from. It was all crafted to make him furious enough to do whatever Maisy and Henry needed him for.”
Hogan nodded, looking faintly disgusted. “Awful people.”
I agreed. “So, it came out in the crucial moment, Jake turned on them and allowed me to get to Maha and Sarah. Maha, of course, was already on the way to freeing herself, though.”
“Of course,” Kay said approvingly.
I was glad it was over. It had been a too-personal case, messy and difficult but too important to me and Graham’s family to let rest before we’d discovered the despicable truth of it all.
It was Graham’s funeral today, finally, and as I did up my tie, I felt able to look myself in the eye in the mirror. I’d gotten justice for Graham, and now Sarah and I could lay his body to rest, knowing that the man who hurt him would never hurt another.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Sarah said, coming over immediately to clasp my arm when I arrived.
I squeezed her hand. “Of course.”
I hadn’t felt like I’d known Graham well enough to speak at his funeral, but Sarah had been insistent, and so had Alice. I hadn’t been able to refuse both of them.
It wasn’t my dislike of public speaking that made my voice crack when I spoke of Graham. How kind he’d been, and loyal, and funny. How the whole village would miss him. That I’d miss him.
Sarah had already spoken, and Alice was next, already crying quietly even as she managed to get through her speech with a steady voice. She came over to me when she’d finished, and I gathered her into a hug.
“That was beautiful,” I said. “He’d have been proud.”
She gave me a watery smile. “Thanks, Darren. Thanks for everything. You’ve done so much.”
I tucked her hair behind her ear before letting go of her. “Your dad mentioned you’re moving away.”
She nodded, looking at me from under her lashes like she wasn’t sure how I was going to react. I tried to look reassuring and gave her a nod.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “I’m finishing up my degree and then moving to Edinburgh. There’s a job there waiting for me, and I’ve always wanted to see the city.”
I smiled. “I’m happy for you,” I said genuinely, even as I knew I’d miss her. “You’re going to do great.”
She nudged my arm. “And you’re getting promoted,” she said.
My face a little flushed, I nodded. “A DCI, up in York. Gaskell’s been promoted too, and I’ll be working under him.”
“Aye,” someone said from behind me, and I turned around, smiling when I saw it was Kay. She was smartly dressed in black and had her wife on her arm. “He’s heading off to the big city and leaving me behind.”
“You’re getting promoted too,” I protested. “And Maha will make a fine partner for you.”
Kay conceded with a nod. “She will, that’s true, and I couldn’t bear to leave Lockdale.” She turned to smile at her wife. “It’s our home.” She looked between Alice and me and gave me a knowing look, pulling Anna away. “We’ll catch up with you two later.”
Alice turned to look at me once they’d stepped away. Her expression was tight, and she couldn’t quite meet my eyes. She was grieving the death of her uncle, and I wish I could make it better for her. I’d done all that I could, with not an inconsiderable amount of her help, but it still didn’t take any of the pain of his sudden, unnatural passing.
“It’ll be alright,” I said. “It’ll get easier.”
She wiped under her eyes. “I hope so.”
She hugged me, moving away to join
her parents, and I watched her go. It felt like the end in many ways, but at the same time, it would be a new beginning for both of us.
Epilogue
The kid had been typing hurriedly away all through my story, but by the time I’d finished, I found him with his hands hovering over his laptop and his gaze fixed on me.
I raised my eyebrows at him. “You got all that, then?” I asked, nodding to his laptop.
“Oh, yeah, pretty much,” he said enthusiastically, turning back to his screen to tap away for a minute or so more. I checked my watch and shook my head. It’d ended up taking far longer than an hour to relate everything I remembered of Graham Stewart’s case and even as I’d watched the morning tick away, I hadn’t quite been able to stop. Something about losing myself in a case that had so consumed me at the time had made me want to share it with the eager-eyed youngster waiting for me to explain it all.
“That was so cool,” the lad, Liam, said, once he’d finished with his notetaking. “Like, fascinating, Mr Mitchell, seriously. I’m definitely going to win Best Student Journalist again this year with a story like that!”
I huffed, hiding a smile. “I’ll want to read it over before you publish,” I said, only half-serious. I didn’t really think the lad was going to change anything I’d said, but well, it was good practice anyway.
He nodded quickly. “Of course! I’ll send it over as soon as I’m done.”
I started getting to my feet, masking a wince at the ache in my legs and back from sitting for too long, my throat dry from talking so much.
Liam jumped up too, starting to stuff his things back into his rucksack.
“Mr Mitchell?” he said, as he was zipping up his bag. I nodded and waved for him to go ahead. “Can I come back? Find out another story, like from after you left Lockdale? I bet some crazy stuff happened in York.”
I smiled. “I suppose so, why not,” I said, finding his enthusiasm endearing. “How about you give me a call first? We can arrange a time, rather than you just popping up on my doorstep.”
He gave me a sheepish grin, showing off his full mouth of braces. “Okay!”
I wrote down the house phone number for him, which he tucked away carefully into his rucksack.
“Thanks!” he said cheerily before I showed him out the door.
My wife came out of the kitchen and wrapped an arm around me, leaning into my side.
“Talking about the good old days?” she teased.
“Someone was eavesdropping,” I said, raising my eyebrows.
“Absolutely,” she said shamelessly. “If it’s going to be in the St. John’s paper, soon the whole world will know all about your heroism.”
I chuckled. “If Lockdale is the whole world then, sure.”
“Will he be coming back to hear more of your daring exploits?” she asked as we headed through to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
“Undoubtedly,” I said wryly.
“Good,” she said warmly. “I reckon you’ve got a fair few stories left to tell.”
Campus Killings
Book 2
Prologue
I was expecting the doorbell to ring, but it still made me startle when it did. I made my way out of our plain kitchen and down the hall. The front door had a colourful glass panel about two-thirds of the way up, and I couldn’t see anyone standing on the other side. But the person I was waiting for wasn’t tall enough for that.
“Liam Perry,” I said warmly as I opened the door.
“Mr Mitchell.” He grinned up at me, his teeth still covered in braces and his bright red hair all askew from the wind. He’d grown a little since I’d last seen him but, even as I’d shrunk a fraction in my older age, he still only came up to my elbow. His freckles stood out, obviously having caught the summer sun, and his eyes were bright with interest.
I waved him forwards. “You better come in. Sit yourself down in the lounge.”
He saw himself through, and I heard the thunk of his rucksack being dropped on the floor. I fetched some of my wife’s cake out of the kitchen cupboards and brought it through.
“You chose a good day to visit,” I said, offering him the plate. “The cake would’ve been gone by tomorrow.”
Liam took the plate and sniffed it. “Looks great! What is it?”
“Almond and chocolate.”
Liam had his mouth too full to respond after that and I chuckled, picking up my lukewarm tea and taking a sip.
“So,” Liam started, his cheeks still bulging like a hamster’s, “you liked the last story, right?”
I nodded. “You wrote it up well. Very professional.” I had been genuinely pleased by how well-written Liam’s summary of my story had been, considering he wasn’t even out of high school yet, and I’d given him a long and sometimes complicated tale.
Liam grinned, looking chuffed with himself. “Good! Have you thought of another one?”
I lifted my eyebrows and took a bite of cake before answering. “Another story?”
He nodded eagerly, already pulling his laptop and various bits of paper out of his battered school bag. His laptop seemed to have been covered in stickers since the last time he came, including various dinosaurs.
“What kind?” I asked, wondering if he had anything in mind. “Because I don’t have got anymore based in Lockdale for-”
Liam waved his hand. “Oh yeah, you moved to York. That’s good, that’s cool! My dad said that more exciting stuff happens in the city.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep! And he’s a journalist, so he’d know.”
“Is that why you do the school paper? To be like your dad?”
Liam shrugged, wrinkling his nose. “I guess? I like it, it’s interesting isn’t it, to be the first to find out about all the cool stuff that happens, all the news. Not that a whole lot happens around here.”
“Which is why you want tales of my police days,” I said.
“Exactly! Lots of people liked the last one. They had no idea that a teacher at St. John’s had been- well, helped with a murder!”
I winced. “She was a TA, I think, not a teacher. But yes.”
Liam had sorted out his laptop and looked at me expectantly. “So what crazy stuff happened in York? After you moved there?”
I sighed and rubbed my chin. “My first case as a DCI, there was a strange one. Certainly threw me in at the deep end.” I chuckled slightly, before sobering as I remembered more of the details.
“Yeah?” Liam said. “Go on, Mr Mitchell, please?”
I couldn’t help but smile at his keenness. “Okay then, lad.”
One
The student looked nervously around as he walked, darting sideways glances at passers-by whilst trying to seem entirely innocuous. He was heading through the sports fields, along the path towards Halifax college. Even now, with the sun barely above the horizon, there were a number of students out walking, off to grab a coveted seat at the library or staggering home after a night out that didn’t end.
He felt like every one of them was staring at him, sending looks his way like he was doing to them. He looked too old, too out of place, with his wrong clothes and hair that hadn’t seen the inside of a barbershop in ages.
Normally, he kept his head down as he walked and ignored the fact that other people existed at all. But the plastic bag hanging from his reluctant left hand kept hitting his leg, reminding him that he wasn’t just walking through the university, but that he had a job to do.
The plastic bag’s contents were wrapped in three other plastic bags, terrified as he’d been of one of them splitting, or someone being able to see through them and stopping him to demand what he was doing. But even if the bag did look an odd shape, all the weight at the bottom, no-one had stopped him and made him explain himself.
He’d been told to do it as early as possible. Students were out and about the least at this early hour, and he needed to get it done before the ones with nine o’clock lectures started leaving their halls. Halifax col
lege was a ways from the main university, so students always left early to get there in time.
Checking his watch, he nodded to himself in approval of it only being eight o’clock but still made himself walk a little faster, before he slowed himself down again, worried about seeming conspicuous.
But eventually, he had made his way through Halifax and into the court where the flat was located, the bag hitting his knee with each step. When he was on the doorstep, he double-checked for cameras, even though he’d been told there wouldn’t be any, and then looked for students. He’d not noticed before how many windows each flat building in the court had, but it struck him now how any student could look out at the wrong moment and see him there. Most of the curtains were still closed at this hour.
His heart pounding in his thin chest, he fumbled in his pocket and let himself into the flats, opening the door very slowly for fear of there being someone in the hall or coming out of the kitchen on the right. Then again, it would be better if he just walked in confidently, like he was doing absolutely nothing abnormal and there was no reason to take notice of him.
This thought made him push the entrance door open more firmly, and he walked inside so assertively that he almost ran straight into the woman coming out of the communal kitchen.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, skirting around her before he darted up the stairs, climbing up to the third floor with his heartbeat loud and nervous in his ears. He waited anxiously there on the landing, but the student downstairs only climbed up to the first floor and didn’t see him loitering up there like an intruder.
He released a shaky breath. Looking around the third floor, he noted the door numbers and fumbled in his pocket for his phone so that he could check the instructions. He’d been told to delete the texts after memorizing them, but he hadn’t trusted himself not to forget the details in his nervousness, and so he kept it saved on his phone.
DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thrillers: Book 1-3 Page 24