TJ finished mucking out the last stall and grabbed the handles on the wheelbarrow. Her breath froze on leaving her nose and hung in the air like mist. The horses nickered and whinnied as she wandered past them to the rear, where the small manure pile sat. It was smelly behind the stables, more so in the summer when the weather was warm, but it lingered in the winter.
She dropped the handles to the barrow and blew hot breath into her cold hands. Tucking them under her armpits, she cursed herself again for leaving her gloves on the kitchen table.
‘Cold one again last night, miss.’
Paul had somehow managed to sneak up and make her jump again.
‘You really need to stop doing that. You’re like a bloody ninja. You’ll give me a heart attack one day.’
Paul cracked one of his hardly seen grins – it instantly brightened up his face. ‘Sorry. I’ll buy heavier boots.’
‘You seem happy today. Everything okay?’
‘Everything’s great. Got a few things sorted out yesterday – feel like I’m moving forward a little now.’
‘Always a good position to be in. Better than heading backwards, I guess.’
His burst of sharp laughter instantly grated on her already shorn nerves. What the hell’s up with him? He never smiles, let alone laughs.
Ignoring how she felt, mainly because she knew she was tetchy this morning anyway, she flashed him a smile and emptied the wheelbarrow contents onto the pile. ‘Another couple of days and we’ll need the small tractor to move the pile over to the fields.’
‘I’ll take care of that, no problem.’
‘Oh, and have you seen Barry this morning? A couple of bulbs have gone in the lamp stall, and Ebony has been cribbing the stall door. She needs some cladding putting on to protect her teeth.’
‘Has anything upset her? She’s not done that for a while.’
‘I think it’s ’cos we moved Maddie over to the other stalls. Those two are like twins. But having Monty where Maddie is now was causing problems with Freddie. Maybe move Maddie to the end stall on that block and make sure Ebony is in the end stall opposite. They can see each other, then – the door will still need some cladding, though. Just in case.’
‘No problem. I think Barry was down in the paddock. Can’t remember what he said he was doing, though.’
‘Okay, thanks.’
TJ made her way back around and paused outside the tack room door. The words had gone now, painted over with a fresh coat of green, but she could still see them in her mind. She knew Jackson hadn’t found much – he’d all but told her so when he’d left. A shiver of fear passed down her spine – first the burglary and then the tack room. Someone clearly had a grudge.
‘Sir, you aren’t allowed on the yard unsupervised. Mr Brown…’ Barry’s voice floated down the path to where she stood.
Oh, shit, this is the last thing I need.
She turned to face the farmer who was storming down the path that led into the yard with thunder on his face.
‘Where the hell is my son?’
‘How would I know where your son is, Mr Brown?’ TJ kept her voice neutral, trying not to antagonise him.
‘He… went for a walk last night, and I haven’t seen him since.’
‘Okay, but I’m still struggling to understand why you think I’d have something to do with him not coming back? If you’re that worried, ring the police. Though, if it’s your younger son you’re on about, he’s in his twenties. Could he not have just gone down the pub or whatever?’
‘Alan doesn’t go to pubs. He’s a good lad. He helps me out on the farm. Where have you put him?’
‘Mr Brown, for the last time, I don’t know where he is and don’t have a clue why you’d think for one second that I would. He’s your son – the only time I ever see him is when he’s skulking around stealing whatever from my garden.’
Mr Brown sputtered in anger, his face turning purple. ‘You little bitch. You’ll pay for this, mind. I don’t know what you did, but this is your fault. I’ll find out and make you pay.’
TJ couldn’t hold her temper in check anymore. ‘You, Mr Brown, need to get the hell off my land and stay away from me. You’ve got no right coming here causing trouble, but you just can’t resist, can you? Now piss off.’
She didn’t see his arm raise until his hand connected with her cheek with a sharp slap.
TJ gasped and stepped back, her hand to her face. Pain radiated down her jaw into her neck. She couldn’t even speak as Mr Brown turned on his heel and stormed away from her.
‘Miss, you okay?’ said Paul, out of breath as he reached her. She watched his eyes darken in anger as he took in the shocked expression and the bruising starting to form on her face. ‘He hit you? That’s it.’
Before she could even respond, Paul had run past her, following her neighbour, shouting his name. Barry was coming the other way, and she saw him grab hold of Paul’s arm as he almost flew past. Barry spoke too softly for her to hear what he said, but she knew he’d somehow talked Paul into not rushing headlong into an assault charge. Both men made their way back down the path to her.
‘You okay, TJ?’ asked Barry, gently pulling her hand from her face so he could look at her.
TJ nodded numbly, not trusting herself to speak. She was about to break down in front of her employees. She needed to leave.
‘I’m okay. Would you both mind finishing the rest of the chores? I’ve got to go and make a phone call.’
‘I hope that call is to the police,’ said Paul.
TJ nodded and turned away. She was almost at the back door when the pain hit with full force. She stumbled into the kitchen, determined not to pass out. She focussed on her breathing, slowing it down, doing her absolute best not to let this develop into a migraine. Turning the cold tap on, she bent over, held her breath, and submerged her face in the icy cold flow. Then, stepping back, she held a tea towel to her face to dry off. She slowly sat down on one of the chairs at the table, breathing deeply to counteract the shivering.
‘So dark, and I can taste metal. Why can I taste metal? My head hurts.’ The light hurt her eyes as she strained to open them, street lights – not natural. The tarmac was rough under her cheek. And wet. But it hadn’t been raining. The wetness was blood. She remembered the sudden sharp pain down her face. The second whack to her face had almost caused her to pass out. She could still feel it. She watched him walk away, struggling to stay conscious, his back to her. Whistling eerily as he swung something metal in his hand. And then a car engine came to life. How hadn’t she seen that as she’d stepped out of the office? She strained to see the registration plate. The pain was so great it was hard to focus. Her fingers reached into her bag and curled round the notebook and pen inside. He’d taken her purse. But it hadn’t been about the money. And he’d left the notebook. If she could just see the registration. ND13K . . her fingers scrawled messily, she didn’t have the energy to check it. The pen dropped from her grip, and TJ passed out.
The blood had drained from TJ’s face, and her heart was pounding. Her breath was coming in gasps, and she could feel her lungs protest with each one. Pain radiated from her face down her neck and into her shoulder.
‘Sis?’ Jacob’s voice sounded far away. She knew it wasn’t real, anyway. He wasn’t here. He was at work. Or at home with Ben and Grace.
‘Grace,’ her voice was hoarse, the word ripped from her throat as if the only lifeline she had. Someone grabbed her arms tightly, and she could see a fuzzy face in front of her.
‘Breathe, sis. Nice and slow. You can do it. Come back to me.’
‘Grace,’ she whispered again, shaking her head at what could only be a mirage. It was her injury, making her see things that weren’t there. Her breath hitched in her throat again as she struggled to breathe.
‘Aunty TJ?’ Grace’s small voice drifted on the wind in her mind. Not real. None of this was real. But someone was talking to her. Slow and low, repeating the same words over and again. She felt
the nightmare start to drift, the tarmac no longer felt as sharp, the wetness no longer there. Slowly but surely, TJ realised she was sitting up, not lying down. She wasn’t in the car park. She was in the kitchen. Of her house. And Jacob was on his knees in front of her, staring intently, talking to her softly.
‘There she is.’ His voice was gentle, and his thumb rubbed circles on her arm.
‘Aunty TJ, are you okay?’ TJ turned her head to the left and saw her niece staring at her intently.
‘You did what Daddy does. Where did you go? Are you back now?’
It still tugged her heartstrings to hear Grace call Jacob ‘Daddy.’ She’d first uttered the words about six months back, almost as if testing the water. He wasn’t her biological father, but she knew he treated her as if she were his own. Now, Grace never called him anything else.
‘I guess I did do a daddy, huh? I’m back here, sweet pea. Don’t worry.’
Jacob pulled her forward, holding her tightly. ‘Me and you need to talk, sis. Outside now.’
TJ stood, then held a hand out to support Jacob getting back to his feet. She knew it hurt him to kneel, and he grimaced as he pulled himself back up and leant on his stick heavily.
Grace had moved off and stood with her mum, who was busying herself putting the kettle on and getting cups out of the cupboard.
The air outside was brisk as Jacob held the door open for her to pass through.
‘Want to tell me how long the flashbacks have been happening for? And why you didn’t tell me?’
‘There was nothing to tell. This was the first one. It was horrible. Is this what you feel every time?’
Jacob nodded. ‘You feel lost in a sea of mist, weighed down with rocks that won’t let you surface from whatever body of water you’re in. It locks you in, and it feels so bloody real, it’s like it’s happening all over again.’
Tears filled TJ’s eyes and flowed down her cheeks.
‘Usually, there’s a trigger. Can you think of anything that triggered you this morning?’
Nodding, she took a deep breath. ‘The farmer from down the lane, he came to the stables, accused me of kidnapping his son, and he slapped me.’
‘He did what?’ Jacob didn’t sound incredulous or shocked, his words were short and spoken through gritted teeth. ‘I’m going to knock his bloody block off. He hit you?’ He pulled his hand from hers and went to storm round to the front of the house.
‘Jacob, no. I know it was wrong. He won’t do it again. I need to ring the police. And I’d rather you stayed with me? I don’t want to meltdown again. Please.’
Her hand on his arm seemed to calm him slightly, and he grabbed her hand again, leading her back inside the kitchen where Ben was waiting with a pot of tea.
‘Sit. I need a minute. I promise I’m not leaving the house, but I need a sec.’
Jacob walked into the hall, and a thud sounded. Whatever he’d just punched, TJ was glad it wasn’t the farmer’s face, as much as he deserved it.
She steeled herself and rang the police.
* * *
14th December, 1520 hours – Sunderland City Police Station
Jackson plonked the evidence bags on the desk unceremoniously – he’d been out all day dealing with a spate of car break-ins at the Pallion end of Sunderland – fifteen, in fact. They’d all been bitty jobs, but he’d recovered a few bits from most of the cars and was hopeful that they would link the offender to most of the crimes. They’d all happened in the same few streets so the residents were understandably pissed off.
They all thought they knew who it was, too – he wouldn’t be surprised if late shift got called out to an assault scene later. Generally happened when people were riled up and thought they knew who was responsible. He wouldn’t like to be in the shoes of the scrote who’d done it.
He was about to start logging the jobs through the computer when the phone rang.
‘CSI.’
‘Hi, it’s Kelly in comms. Is there anyone available who can deal with some injury photos – it’s for job 367 of today.’
‘Yeah, I’ll pop down now.’
It was a quick walk from the CSI office to the front office where the victim would be. He opened the door and leaned through.
‘Injury photos?’ His eyes widened as TJ stood and walked towards him. ‘Hi, you okay? What happened?’
He stared at her for a moment, taking in the light bruising to her face, feeling far more annoyed than he had a right to on seeing TJ injured.
‘Farmer Brown,’ TJ replied with a small smile. She shrugged her shoulders as she spoke, as if it couldn’t be helped.
‘You’re kidding? Just come on through. You can tell me about it in the studio.’
Usually, he would walk behind a victim and direct them – it was a security measure all the CSIs used, because you couldn’t predict how a person would react. With TJ, though he walked alongside her.
The photographic studio was already set up – grey walls, an ‘X’ on the floor with a stool over the top, and a pull-down screen behind. There were lights mounted on movable joists, already angled at the optimum position to allow detailed images to be taken.
Jackson sat her down on the stool and gently moved her jaw to the side so he could look more closely at the faint bruising. It wouldn’t be the easiest to capture sufficiently, but he knew he would manage it. He’d been taking photos now for years – there wasn’t much he couldn’t do with a camera.
‘What happened?’ he asked again, releasing her chin and making his way to the table.
‘He thought I’d hidden his son or something – think the youngest one has gone on walkabout. He was pissed when I said that, other that Alan stealing from my garden, I had no idea where he was. He slapped me.’ To her credit, her voice didn’t falter. Which told Jackson it had really affected her, and she was struggling to stay composed. He didn’t point it out, though, just moved onto the next question.
‘What’s your date of birth?’
‘26th September 1987.’
‘Is the bruising to your face your only injury?’
Silence reigned, and he turned and realised she was nodding.
‘Okay. All you need to do is sit. I’ll take a profile shot of your face, then focus on the bruising. I’ll give you a scale in a sec and position it for you to hold.’
Glancing down at the camera, he positioned it over his photographic envelope for the first details shot. Then, took her profile image. Within a few minutes, he was done and had all he needed.
‘All done, I’ll take you back to front office now. Are you going to the afternoon tea tomorrow, did you say?’
His heart fluttered a little as he asked, and he found himself hoping she’d say yes.
TJ flashed him a small smile and nodded again. ‘Yes, I hope to. As long as I don’t look like I’ve been in a cat fight in the morning. Will it bruise much more, do you think?’
‘It’ll darken over the next day or two but then start fading off. You know you can ring me if you have any other issues, don’t you? You shouldn’t have to put up with that prick of a neighbour. I’m glad you reported it. A lot of people wouldn’t have.’
‘I didn’t have much choice, really. Jacob would’ve, if I hadn’t. He’s really pissed.’
‘Quite rightly so an’ all. How he didn’t deck him, I’ll never know.’
‘So, you would have? Decked him, I mean?’
Jackson didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes. Because he can’t go around hitting women and thinking that’s okay. You know what I mean?’
‘Yeah – though, I’m not some helpless damsel in distress, you know. I can take care of myself.’
‘I don’t doubt–’
She interrupted him. ‘I was just shocked. I didn’t react. Which is unusual ’cos I’d normally have blocked him, or at the very least thumped him back. I learned self-defence after the attack. When he slapped me today, I just froze. I should have reacted.’
TJ sounded despondent, and Jackson stopped he
r in the corridor and turned to face her.
‘You shouldn’t have had to learn self-defence. And you wouldn’t have expected your neighbour to slap you. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Absolutely no need to reproach yourself. I’m sure you can hold your own in anything. You’re a really strong woman, TJ. I’ve got nothing but admiration for you.’
Her cheeks blushed pink at his compliment.
‘Anyway, I just wanted you to know that. I’ll see you tomorrow?’ He opened the door to the front office public area and stood to one side to let her through.
‘Definitely,’ TJ replied softly. She put a hand on his arm and smiled. ‘Thank you.’
Jackson nodded and turned, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His arm felt cold where her touch had been. Like it was missing something. He rubbed his other hand over it and headed back to the CSI office.
* * *
14th December, 1605 hours – Riverside Park, Sunderland
He didn’t know what had prompted him to go to the same park he’d grabbed the woman from. She was still in the boot of his car. He hadn’t had chance yet to dispose of her and the younger Brown lad. He needed to do it today. All it would take was for him to be pulled over, and he’d be caught.
And he definitely did not want to be caught.
It was cold and raining – not the ideal weather to wander round the park. But he liked the solitude. And for some reason he felt drawn to the park. Almost as if he was meant to be there for whatever reason.
He stilled mid-step as he saw a woman on the bench a few hundred yards up the path.
She was the reason for him being drawn here today. He knew it deep inside his bones.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her hair was light brown and curly; damp tendrils clinging to her cheek having escaped the brown woolly hat she wore. She was huddled into the heavy coat she had on, pulling herself as tightly into a ball as she could, obviously freezing cold. The temperature was around two degrees, and the rain falling was that ice rain that only ever fell in the depths of winter.
He fingered the syringe in his pocket. He had taken to carrying one with him all the time – one never knew when a dose of ketamine would come in handy.
Under The Woods: a heart-stopping police thriller (The Forensic Files Book 4) Page 11