Gary was on his feet.
‘You’re going to pay for that,’ he said, then dropped down to one knee and picked up his knife. ‘You’re going to pay for that like you wouldn’t believe, Stacy. Like you wouldn’t believe . . .’
Harry’s lungs were, he was sure, right up in the back of his throat, but he didn’t care. If Jen was up here, he was going to find her. If she wasn’t . . . Harry pushed that thought away. She had to be up here. It’s the only place that made any sense.
Behind him, Harry could hear the others, the path too narrow for them to pass.
A cry rang out.
‘You hear that?’ Jim called to Harry.
‘Too bloody right I did!’ Harry roared. ‘Come on! Shift it!’
Harry wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, running at the pace he was going, he just knew that he had to, no matter what.
Another cry, this one deeper, a sound of pain-filled rage.
Harry was starting to see stars, his vision blurring just a little at the edges. His lungs felt like they were filled with broken glass and his legs were on fire. But those screams, he knew, were Jen and Gary. They had to be. He willed them to be. And pushed on.
Jen wriggled back, but could wriggle no further, the coffin stone behind her stopping her dead.
‘There’s nowhere to go, Stacy,’ Gary said, lifting the knife up in front of him. ‘It’s just you and me. And I’m afraid that this is going to hurt you a lot more than it’s going to hurt me.’
As Gary moved in for the kill, Jen saw a great black shape loom up behind him. Was this it? she thought. Had Death come for her?
Jen went to close her eyes as the black shape crashed into Gary and she was sure, with the sounds that Gary and the terrible dark shadow made as they connected, that this was her end. There would be no more. Death had claimed her.
Harry crashed into Gary as much out of relief at being able to stop running as it was to stop the maniac doing what he was about to do to Jen with his knife. They tumbled to the ground and Harry just caught sight of Jen, tied up, bruised, her face red with tears as they fell.
Hitting the ground hard, Harry took full advantage of his additional weight, and kept himself on top of Gary as he felt him try to squirm out from beneath him.
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Harry hissed. ‘It’s over, Gary. You’re done!’
Gary struggled against Harry’s weight, pushed up on his arms, kicked and flailed, but it did nothing. Harry wasn’t going anywhere.
Jim was next to Harry then, and Jadyn, both dropping down at his side to take the strain. Matt fell in behind, dropping onto Gary’s legs.
‘We’ve got him, boss,’ Jim said. ‘You go sort Jen.’
Harry rolled off of Gary’s back, ignoring the groans of pain from him as he did so. Then he was over to Jen on his hands and knees.
‘Jen? Jen! It’s Harry! We’re here! You’re okay! You’re safe!’
For a moment, Jen didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes, her body jammed up hard against the stone.
‘Jen,’ Harry said again, and reached out a hand to rest on her shoulder. ‘It’s Harry.’
When she opened her eyes, Jen stared back at Harry and in that look, he saw the reflection of the hell that she’d been through.
‘You’re okay,’ he said, his voice gentle. ‘You’re safe now.’
Then, it all came crashing in and Jen cried out.
Harry reached over for her and pulled her close. Then, as her body shook with long, racking sobs, he reached out to where Gary’s knife had fallen, took hold of it, and started to cut her free.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Harry clasped his mug with both hands and lifted it to his mouth. Everywhere hurt. His legs, his chest, his arms. His knuckles were scraped and bleeding. There were scratches on his face. Hell, even his eyelids hurt, though he had no idea how that was even possible. It had been quite a day, quite a week, actually. The job was more than enough, for sure, and his brother’s problems certainly added to it. But this new stuff from his dad? What the hell was that all about? He didn’t know and, in many ways right then, he wasn’t sure that he cared. All that mattered at that moment was the fact that Jen was okay, they’d got there in time. ‘But only just,’ Harry muttered to himself, ‘only just . . .’
‘Tea’ll help, I promise you,’ Liz said, as Harry moved to slump down into one of the chairs in the team room at the community centre. ‘It always does. And it’ll stop you talking to yourself, anyway.’
Harry’s time in the Paras had taught him many things, from jumping out of aircraft to tying snares, but of all the things he’d learned, it was that the healing properties of a good brew were not to be sniffed at.
‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ Harry said. ‘Rather a lot on my mind.’
‘Not a surprise, is it?’ Liz said.
‘How you doing, boss?’ Matt asked, leaning himself against a table.
Harry didn’t answer. He was too busy with his tea.
‘What about yourself?’ Liz asked, looking over at Matt.
‘Oh, I’m fine,’ Matt said. ‘Fit as pins, me.’
‘That’ll be why you limped in here like you’d lost your crutches, then,’ Liz said.
Harry looked up at Matt. ‘Jim and Jadyn will be at Harrogate by now, right?’
Matt checked his watch. ‘Another fifteen minutes I should think. You sure you don’t want to follow on?’
Harry shook his head. ‘No, they’re young, let them have this one, I think. It’ll do them both good. And I need to stay here and keep an eye on that daft dog of his.’
Harry looked over at Fly who was on his back, paws in the air, fast asleep.
‘Yeah, he’s a right bother, that one,’ Matt laughed. ‘You were the arresting officer though. By rights, it should be you.’
‘Was I, though?’ Harry countered. ‘All I did was slam into Gary and squash him. No, they can have it. Anyway, like I said, I’m busy with this mug of tea.’
Matt sat down. ‘And all that dog-watching. So, what now?’ he asked.
‘Well, I doubt a holiday to the south of France is on the cards,’ Harry said. ‘Can’t imagine Swift approving of that, can you?’
‘He’s on his way over, by the way,’ Liz said. ‘To Harrogate, I mean. I rang him, like you said. Can’t say I’m sure if he sounded pleased with the arrest or annoyed at being woken up from a nap.’
‘Probably both,’ Matt said.
‘Oh, and did you get anywhere with finding anything out about those two blokes being suspicious?’
Harry shook his head. ‘No, not yet,’ he said. He didn’t have the energy to say anymore. Perhaps later.
Harry leaned into his chair and stretched his back, the sound of the bones cracking and popping bouncing around the room. ‘I tell you, I’ve dealt with some crazy mad nonsense in my time, but this stuff with Gary?’ He rubbed his eyes, weary already, and it wasn’t even mid-afternoon. ‘Incels? Stacys and Chads? What the hell is wrong with people?’
‘Buggered if I know,’ Matt said.
Harry spotted Gordie’s postcard pinned to one of the noticeboards. ‘Picked a right week to be away, didn’t she?’ he said. Then he looked over to Liz. ‘How was Adam?’ he asked. ‘When you told him what had happened?’
‘All I told him was that Gary had been arrested, like you said. I didn’t say anything about the whys and the wherefores.’
‘And?’
‘And he fair looked like the ship with no wind in its sails,’ Liz said. ‘Like, he almost shrunk in front of me.’
‘Do you think he knew?’ Matt asked.
Harry shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think he had the faintest idea of what was going on. How could he? Gary hid it from everyone. He’s clearly been living this online world of incel conspiracy bollocks for years.’
‘But to allow it to come to this?’ Matt said. ‘It’s proper madness, that, if you ask me. Kid’s a loon.’
‘He’s screwed up, that’s for sure,
’ Harry said. ‘Believing all that shite about involuntary celibacy or whatever, then doing what he did? Like I said, I’ve seen some crazy stuff in my time, but this? It’s up there.’ Harry lifted his left hand to the top of an imaginary pile of crazy things he’d encountered in his life. ‘By which I mean, right up there.’
‘It’s jealousy gone mad,’ Liz said, shaking her head.
‘It’s not just jealousy,’ Harry said, but didn’t go any further. ‘I tell you though, it’s not convinced me that I should be getting myself on Facebook anytime soon, that’s for sure.’
‘I’m with you on that,’ Matt agreed. ‘Right load of old bollocks.’
Harry finished his tea, then pulled out his phone to check as he’d not looked at it since early that morning. There was one missed call. And it was from Detective Superintendent Alice Firbank. He really didn’t have the energy, but he also knew that he had to speak to her.
‘There’s a call I need to make,’ he said, standing up, despite the aches. ‘Won’t be a mo’.’
As Harry made to leave, a knock at the door had him look over to see it open and a head pop around and into the room an inch.
‘Now then,’ said Dave. ‘I see you’re in.’
Harry was about to tell him about the call he had to make when Dave pushed the door open further and stepped in. He was a large man, built rather like a bull, Harry thought. Or a rhino. Perhaps a strange mix of the two. Either way, the man’s bulk was blocking Harry’s route out pretty surely, so he switched off his phone and smiled.
‘Hi, Dave,’ he said. ‘I’ve been meaning to give you a call.’
No bother,’ Dave said. ‘You’ve been busy.’ He then cast his eye up and down Harry, taking in the full dishevelled nature of what was in front of him, a man cut and bruised, his clothing scuffed, torn, and covered in grass stains and mud. ‘Though with what, I’m not sure I want to know right now, if that’s okay with you.’
‘Anything we can help you with?’ Matt asked, making to stand.
Dave raised a hand to stop him halfway. ‘No, there’s nowt going on. Just popped in as someone had said they’d seen you lot tearing out of the marketplace earlier. And judging by how you look, wherever it was you were going, you got there just in the nick of time.’
‘We did,’ Harry said, then asked if Dave fancied a tea. ‘I’m having another myself,’ Harry said. ‘We all need another.’
‘I will, yes,’ Dave said. ‘Which reminds me . . .’
Harry watched as Dave revealed a small paper bag he’d been carrying.
‘And what’s that?’ Harry asked.
‘Something to go with the tea,’ Dave said. ‘When I heard that you’d all rushed off to something obviously important, I thought I’d bring something round, like. You know, just in case.’
‘Just in case of what?’ Harry asked.
‘Well, just in case you didn’t have anything in. And we can’t have that, now, can we?’
‘No, we can’t,’ Matt agreed. ‘Nowt worse than not having something in.’
Harry was tired and was sensing that he was starting to lose the point of whatever it was Dave was trying to communicate.
‘So, what’s in the bag, Dave?’
Dave stepped over to a table and opened the bag. ‘First, there’s this,’ he said. ‘Cake, obviously. From Cockett’s as well, because I see no point in buying it from anywhere else and then being disappointed, do you?’
Harry stared at the cake, then back at Dave’s bag. He could see that there was something else inside it and he was pretty sure that he didn’t want to ask what it was, but he couldn’t help himself.
‘And second?’ he asked.
Dave reached into the bag and pulled out a small block of something wrapped in wax paper. ‘Wensleydale cheese,’ he grinned.
‘Brilliant!’ Matt cheered. ‘Cheese and cake! Get the kettle on, Liz!’
Harry stared at the two items on the table. After the days they’d all just lived through he was more in the mood for beer and fish and chips. Later maybe, he thought. After the call he needed to make.
Dave rested one of his massive, hefty hands onto Harry’s shoulder.
‘I think it’s time you gave it a go,’ he said. ‘You can’t go putting it off forever, you know.’
Harry looked at Dave, then at the cheese and cake, then at Dave once more.
‘Cheese though, Dave. I mean, it’s wrong, isn’t it?’
Dave’s hand squeezed just enough to let Harry know that he could probably keep on squeezing and crush his shoulder to mush.
Harry took a deep breath. ‘Matt?’
‘Yes, boss?’
‘Get me a knife, will you?’
THE END
Author’s Note
Swaledale is a very special place, not just in general terms, but to me personally. I lived in Wensleydale till I was thirteen, but the dales have always called me back. When I was eighteen, and having finished my A-Levels, I took a year out before heading off to university. And that year I spent in Swaledale itself, working at (yes, you’ve guessed it!) Marrick Priory! I was an assistant instructor, taking groups out doing various outdoor activities, from caving down Crackpot to abseiling, raft-building, and orienteering. I honestly wasn’t expecting Marrick to play a part in this story at all, but that’s the way things work out sometimes; the story takes on a life of its own and you just have to be brave—and mad—enough to go with it! Marrick may well turn up again at some point, not least, because it has its own little ghost story to tell and one that I’ve experienced myself.
Reeth, mentioned briefly in this story, but more so in Best Served Cold, is a wonderful little place. The pub Harry visits in that story is well worth a visit, as is the King’s Head mentioned in Corpse Road. In fact, if you want a lovely day out, and you just so happen to be in the area, get yourself up to Gunnerside and head up the Gill. It’s a smashing little walk, interesting too, with the ruins of mines giving plenty to look at as you stroll along. There’s a magic to the place, almost as though, if you’re just quiet enough, you may well meet those miners of old, or just hear the distant whispers of their long-ago conversations still dancing on the breeze.
The corpse road itself fascinated me as an idea, though I have to admit here that I have used a bit of poetic licence to describe it and its surroundings, but that’s my job, right? The coffin stone I’ve lifted from a corpse road elsewhere in the country, but I just couldn’t resist dropping it up there on the top of the fells!
The band I mention, Fourum, is real! When we lived in the dales, my dad as the Methodist minister would always be armed with his twelve-string guitar for services in the chapels which dot the dales. The chapels themselves were proper community centres and music was a big thing. Dad would perform various folk tunes, and some were by Fourum. And I can still remember them, particularly one about the river Swale, and another about Gunnerside Gill. The song about the Swale is all about loving the place, the dale, the river, and just staying there, probably forever. And in some ways, I think I did. It was a formative year, leaving home, that step into adulthood. Living there changed me, and it is wonderful to be revisiting it as I am now. As for the song about Gunnerside Gill, well I actually tip my hat to it at one point early on. Back when Harry is leaving the first crime scene, he feels as though every step is taking him back in time, which is how the song describes walking up the Gill.
Swaledale is a hauntingly beautiful place and it stays with you. And in some small way, I hope you’ve walked it a little in these pages. Who knows, perhaps you’ll take a trip there yourself one day. I know I’ll be going back. And soon.
Dave
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About David J. Gatward
David had his first book published when he was 18 and has written extensively for children and young adults. Corpse Road is his third crime novel.
For more information:
www.davidjgatward.com
[email protected]
Also by David J. Gatward
THE DCI HARRY GRIMM SERIES
Grimm Up North
Best Served Cold
THE PADRE SERIES
Padre: Mission Creep
Padre: Raised From Death
Padre: Jaws of Hell
SHORT STORIES / NOVELLAS
Padre: Damascus Road
Corpse Road Page 23