“No problem,” the driver nodded, and I thanked him.
I closed the door and jogged through the rain towards Taylor, who was unlocking her door and shivering in the cold.
“Taylor,” I said as I approached, not wanting to scare her.
She turned around, looking faintly upset. “I didn’t mean to pressure you,” she said quietly, pushing her door open. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine, Darren.” She gave me a small smile. “Maybe we can get coffee another day, hm?”
I reached forwards slowly, giving her enough time to pull away, and cupped her face in my hands. “Taylor,” I said, “I don’t mind staying over at all. I just didn’t think that anything more was a good idea.”
She ducked her head, her face flushed. “Okay, then,” she said and smiled.
I grinned back. “Okay. Let me go pay the taxi.”
“Oh, of course.” Taylor patted her pocket and pulled out her purse.
I waved a hand. “I’ve got it.”
Taylor fixed me with a firm look, looking more like herself when she did so, less uncertain and worried. “Please, Darren. I want to pay half.”
I paused a moment before nodding. I’d have happily covered it, but it was clearly important to her that she pay her fair share. I took the tenner she pulled out and went to grab my jacket from the taxi and pay the driver, giving him a big tip on top for patiently waiting for us to sort ourselves out, and for driving us around at this time of night.
He drove off, and Taylor and I went inside, both of us damp and shivering now. She moved efficiently around the kitchen, putting the kettle on and disappearing upstairs only to reappear wearing her pyjamas, with a thick blanket and a man’s shirt, both for me.
“It’s my brother’s,” she said, offering it. “You look a bit… soggy.”
I laughed and accepted the t-shirt. She made us cups of tea while I changed, though I saw her send a couple of sly looks in my direction.
I offered to sleep on the couch, but she insisted her bed was big enough. We ended up sitting atop the covers in her pleasant bedroom, both wrapped in blankets and sipping cups of tea. It was possibly the tamest end to a date I’d had since I was a teenager, but I found myself relaxed and at ease. The night hadn’t exactly gone as I’d planned, or hoped, but it hadn’t ended half-badly.
But Taylor didn’t seem as chilled out as I was, and there was a worried little crease between her brows. I reached out to put a hand on her knee and gave her a concerned look when she lifted her head.
“Are you alright? Feeling sick?”
She shook her head, wrapping her hands around her tea mug. “No,” she said quietly.
She looked past me, out the dark window. We hadn’t drawn the curtains yet, and the orange glow of streetlights was visible out in the darkness. The sky was full of clouds, and the moon wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but the city brightness left enough light to see the outlines of the nearby buildings.
“That guy,” I guessed, keeping my voice gentle. I didn’t want to make her feel like she had to talk about it if she didn’t want to. “In the Turtle Bay?”
She nodded, looking down at her half-finished mug of tea. She took hers milky, with one sugar, I’d noted.
“He was an old student,” she said, which was what she’d introduced him as in the bar.
“Taylor, you don’t have to-”
“I know,” she said. “I want to tell you.” I nodded, waiting for her to speak again, which she did after a moment. “It was right when I started lecturing at the uni, a couple of years ago. I was more nervous then, less able to stand up for myself.” She swallowed, and I rubbed her hand.
“He- he was a bully, really,” she said, her voice a touch harder, though her eyes looked wet. “He was rude to the other students, to me, but he passed it off by laughing. You saw how- how charming he can be. But his work wasn’t good, and when I gave the class their marked essays back, he was always fuming afterwards.” She took a sip of tea, her hand shaking slightly. “It worried me a bit, to be honest, but I didn’t say anything to the other staff, or anyone, because I thought, well I thought I was overreacting. Every teacher has difficult students, right? Now, I’d have the confidence to say something, but I didn’t back then.”
I nodded to show I was listening. This guy sounded like a manipulative piece of work, and I disliked him more every minute.
“His work didn’t improve, and I gave him marks that were an honest reflection of that. I’d offered to help him with it and told him where he could get essay writing tips, but he’d ignored me.” She sounded slightly defensive. “And then, maybe half-way through the second term, in the spring, he waited for me after class.”
I tensed rigid, feeling faintly sick myself.
“I thought he was going to hit me,” Taylor said in a small voice. “He was spitting mad, waving the paper in my face. And he’s- he’s just so big, isn’t he? And he was even more built up then. I was, I was really scared.”
I gave in to my urge to comfort her and pulled her into a hug which she leaned into.
“He shoved me,” she said after a moment. “But that was it, in the end. He tore the paper up, shouted at me some more, and walked away. I-I had a panic attack and had to take some time out of work. I told one of the senior staff what had happened, though, and Will got suspended. Then he attacked another student, I can’t remember the circumstances exactly, and he was expelled. I was relieved.” She sighed, going limp against me. I could smell the tea on her breath, and her hair was soft where she was resting against my neck.
“I’m so sorry that happened.” There wasn't much else to say.
She nodded, which I could feel against my shoulder. “Thanks. And thanks for listening.”
“Of course.” We sat quietly for a while more, finishing our tea. Taylor was clearly falling asleep, and I took her empty mug from her lax fingers and gently lay her down.
She stirred a little and blinked up at me. I turned away to put the mugs on the bedside table and then helped Taylor under the bed covers. Hesitating for a minute, I wondered whether sleeping on the sofa downstairs would be better, but Taylor patted the bed beside her, so I climbed in next to her.
She cuddled up close, and I held her tight, hoping that I’d be able to protect her from whoever had left that poor fox, and from people like Will, who liked throwing their weight around and didn’t give a damn about how it hurt others. I was still turning it over in my head when I fell asleep with Taylor in my arms.
Twelve
The light was too bright when I woke up, and I squinted, blinking rapidly. Someone was saying my name, but it felt like my ears were full of cotton wool. Maybe I’d drunk more than I’d thought.
It came back to me that I was in Taylor’s bed when I saw the unfamiliar bedspread, and then Taylor’s face looking down at me. I tried for a smile, still half-awake, but she didn’t return it.
“Darren!” she said, some sort of urgency in her tone.
Beginning to wake up properly, I pushed myself up to a seated position and rubbed my head with a groan, with Taylor looking at me intently. I studied her face for a minute, wondering why she looked so unhappy.
I scrubbed a hand through my bedhead. “I can leave?” I offered, feeling slightly hurt that she’d kick me out so soon, but more than willing to go if she wanted me gone.
“No, no, Darren,” she started, chewing her lip. Scared, I realised belatedly. She wasn’t annoyed but upset. “There’s been another one... some birds.”
“What?” I snapped, too loudly, and she pulled back slightly. I hurried to get out of bed. “Christ.” She nodded, and my stomach sank. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as my bare feet hit the cool floorboards, and I pulled myself upright. “Where?”
“Doorstep again.”
I swore quietly and instinctively patted my hip for my phone, but I was only wearing boxers, and my phone was in my jeans downstairs.
“I need to call my partner, Stephen,” I told her as I headed
downstairs, but my feet took me towards the front door first. “Have you moved it?” I turned around to ask as I was unlocking the door. Taylor shook her head. I got the slightly sticky lock undone and gritted my teeth to see the four dead birds on the doorstep. Small ones this time, and all lined up in a row with their wings spread out unnaturally.
I looked both ways down the street, but, predictably, there was no one in sight. This had been done in the night, whilst Taylor and I were asleep upstairs. It made me feel deeply uncomfortable, and I fully understood why Taylor had needed to move somewhere else for a while and hadn’t wanted to be alone last night.
I closed the door, took a breath, and got myself into police mode, despite my headache. Taylor was standing at the other end of the hall. She was still in pyjamas but had one of her cardigans wrapped around her again, an oversized purple one this time.
“How’re you feeling?” I asked her, wincing a bit because obviously, she wasn’t doing her best after that awful surprise.
She shrugged. “I’m not hungover, at least.”
“Glad one of us isn’t,” I said, smiling weakly. “Did the cat tell you they were there, again?”
She nodded. “Yeah, Wanda didn’t come for her food.”
I hummed, moving to dig my phone from my jeans, which were on the sofa where I’d changed last night. I found Stephen in the contacts and sat down on Taylor’s soft couch to call him.
“Darren?” Stephen said, sounding slightly worried. “Everything alright?” I could hear some sort of commotion in the background, kids talking I realised after a second.
“Taylor’s had another- There have been more birds left at Taylor’s,” I said clumsily, my brain still not quite functioning at full capacity. I hadn’t had any coffee yet, for starters.
“You there now?”
“Yeah. I’ll have to go to the station-”
“No, Darren, it’s alright,” Stephen said, his tone steady. “I’ll get the car and some evidence bags. You stay with Taylor. I’ll be over there in half an hour or so, okay?”
I released a breath. “Thanks, mate. Really appreciate it.” I hesitated. “What about your kids?”
“Annie’s here,” he said. “They’re good, don’t worry.”
He promised to come over as soon as possible, and we hung up. I released a sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, before I perked up.
“Coffee?” I said hopefully, smelling the stuff and feeling better almost instantly. It probably wasn’t healthy how much I loved it, but that was a problem for tomorrow's me.
“Coffee and painkillers,” Taylor agreed, giving me a cup of strong, black coffee and a couple of white pills, which I swallowed down.
“You read my mind,” I told her.
“Your partner’s coming round?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Better put some trousers on then,” she teased.
“You don’t think he’d appreciate the view?” I grinned, jutting my hip out in a silly pose. It was good to see Taylor smiling again, and hearing her laugh was even better.
“I certainly do,” she said, still giggling.
I smiled back at her. “That’s a relief.”
I took another drink of coffee, and we shared a moment of eye contact that left me feeling distinctly warm, before she glanced past me towards the door and the spark left her expression.
“It’ll be okay,” I said, not entirely convincingly. “I’ll go get dressed, alright?”
“Sure.” She managed a smile. “I’ll make some breakfast. Not good to have painkillers on an empty stomach.” She went back to the kitchen, and whilst I was more than happy to cook, it touched me that she cared.
I snagged my jeans and jogged up the stairs to change and make myself presentable. I pulled Taylor’s brother’s shirt on, since the one from last night hadn’t been hung up and was still damp from the rain that’d come down.
The kitchen smelled delicious when I returned, and I gathered Taylor into a hug where she was standing at the counter, serving up plates of eggs, bacon and beans.
“I hope you’re not veggie?” she asked, a little late, as she handed me a plate.
“Nope.”
We ate in quiet, Taylor flicking through her phone in between petting her cat, Wanda. I finished first and picked Wanda up when she kept rubbing at my legs, settling her in my lap. Taylor sent me a smile as she used her toast to mop up bacon grease. I was glad to see that she still had an appetite and wasn’t feeling sick from last night, or that this morning hadn’t put her off her food.
The doorbell rang a couple of minutes later, as I was taking the plates to the sink to wash up and Taylor went to get it, because my hands were wet. I heard Stephen’s distinctive, deep voice and his heavy footsteps as Taylor let him inside. Presumably, he’d had to step over the birds on the porch, and I pulled a face as I scrubbed our breakfast plates.
I could already predict Stephen’s expression when he spotted me, dressed in casual clothes and washing up in Taylor’s sink, and I wasn’t disappointed when I turned around. He was split between surprise and glee at the teasing he was going to give me, I could tell, but he stopped himself for the moment.
“You noticed the birds just before calling me?” he asked. Taylor and I both nodded. “I’ll photograph them and scoop them up. Darren, how about you finish that,” He waved a hand at what I was doing and smiled slightly, “and then go and talk to the neighbours?”
“Sure, boss.” I propped the last mug onto the draining board and went to dry my hands off. Stephen rolled his eyes at me.
“Good,” he said, and went back to the doorstep.
I glanced back at Taylor, who looked divided between worry over the birds and amusement about Stephen and me. “He’s angling for my job, I swear, bossing me about.”
She smiled, looking a little tired. She’d taken her make-up off last night and looked fresh-faced and soft this morning.
“How dare he?” she agreed, amused.
I had to go past her to grab my coat and couldn’t resist dipping down for a kiss as I got close to her. She inhaled quietly in surprise, before relaxing against me and what I’d intended to be a quick peck turned into a couple of minutes of kissing.
“Mitchell?” said a stern voice from the door and I pulled away, thinking for a moment that that was Gaskell’s voice- but no, it was just Stephen being an idiot. He grinned at my look of annoyance and clapped his hands. “Chop chop, work to do.”
I sent an apologetic look to Taylor, who looked more amused than anything, and stepped away to grab my jacket and tug it on.
“Let me know before you head off?” she asked.
“Of course,” I assured her. “We’ll be in the street, okay?”
Stephen was picking up the last of the small birds when I left the house. He’d gotten them neatly bagged up and sent me a serious look when I paused beside him.
“Definitely the same?” I said quietly.
“I think so.”
I made a noise of frustration. “We haven’t gotten any further into figuring who’s doing this. God, it drives me mad.”
“I know,” Stephen sighed. “Go talk to the neighbours, Mitchell.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
It was instinct these days to move my police badge from my uniform to the pocket of my casual clothes every time I changed, just like I moved my wallet over. I pulled it out now, as I introduced myself to Taylor’s neighbour on the left, asking if she’d seen anything last night. She hadn’t.
I rapped on doors for a fair way down the street and then crossed over and asked the people living in the houses opposite. One of them had seen Taylor and I get out of the taxi late last night, but none of them had seen anything else, saying that they’d been asleep in the small hours. It wasn’t surprising, but it was disappointing.
I left the last house on the opposite side of the street and headed back across the road towards Taylor’s. I saw her, still in pyjamas but with a dressing gown now, talking to an older
man, who was dressed like he slept rough. I might’ve been worried except that Stephen was standing by them too. Taylor was the one talking, though, and I approached them curiously, wondering what the older bloke was saying to keep Taylor and Stephen looking so interested.
The rough sleeper broke off as I approached, eyeing me with evident wariness.
“It’s alright, Doug,” Taylor said. “This is Darren Mitchell, he’s a good guy.” She sent a smile at me as she spoke, and I couldn’t help but return it.
“If you say so,” Doug grunted.
“Can you tell Darren what you told me?” Taylor asked politely. I noticed that she hadn’t told him I was police, though he might’ve already seen me flashing my badge at the houses, and the police car Stephen had driven over in was parked outside Taylor’s.
But Doug grudgingly assented. “I jus’ happened to be passin’ last night,” he said, his voice rough. He gestured vaguely up the street, and I nodded. There was a small shop down the ways, and I guessed that he’d taken a kip in the doorway there. “Got a bit chilly ‘round three? Four?” He shrugged. “I dunno, but was early, like.” I nodded again. “Yeah, so a bloke came down here sneaky like. I acted like I was sleepin’, y’know, and kept an eye on ‘im. I like the people ‘round here, right? Don’t want anyone gettin’ their TV nicked, y’know?” He nodded to himself, shifted from one booted foot to the other. “Then he comes up to Miss Taylor’s here, like, with a backpack on an’ all. I were ready to call you lot on ‘im and everything, but he just goes up close, like, to the ‘ouse, and skedaddles off again, right? Like he was jus’ having a look or s’thing.”
“Right,” I said, frowning. “You get a look at this guy?” I pulled out my notebook.
Doug shrugged, pulling out a hanky and blowing his nose on it. “He wasn’t tall, like you, mate, more like me own height.” I eyeballed Doug and guessed he was maybe five-foot-ten or five-eleven and wrote that down. “But I didn’t see much, like. Dark, y’understand?” He sniffed and thought for another moment. “He was scruffy, though. Big mop of shaggy hair, needin’ a haircut, like.” Doug’s own white-streaked hair was surprisingly neat, I registered as he said this, and I could see the lines of a recently used comb in it.
Campus Killings Page 13