by kris stone
Tracey had been moved to the intensive care unit so following the directions he had been given at the front desk, he made his way through the maze of corridors. As he pushed open the doors to the ward he recognised the Doctor from the night before standing at the nurses’ station.
‘Back again Dr Sharma?”
He chuckled. ‘I never left.’
‘How’s she doing?”
“I’ve just been checking on her. I’m pleased to say that the bleeding has stopped but she still hasn’t regained consciousness. She’s stable though which, quite honestly, is a miracle.”
‘So there’s a chance she might pull through?’
‘If you’d have asked me that yesterday I would have said probably not. But today? I still can’t give any guarantees but her chances are better than when she was brought in.’
‘Ok, thanks doc. Please don’t forget to call me if there is any change.’
‘Will do.’
The washing up had been done when he got home and there was a note on the kitchen counter from Cynthia telling him that his dinner was in the oven, and just needed reheating. Opening the oven door he saw a full roast dinner and realised how hungry he was. Putting the oven on to a hundred to warm it up, he poured himself a glass of wine and went through to the lounge. Usually the French doors gave a fantastic view of the countryside, but at this time of night all he could see as he stood there looking out were the heavy flakes of snow swirling in the wind as they fell. As the dinner heated up the smell wafted through to where he was standing and he reminded himself that he really was very lucky to have Cynthia. It was purely by chance that she had come to work for him two years ago. The cottage forms part of a smattering of houses on the outskirts of Dorchester. Not quite a village there was one pub, one shop and not much else. When his wife and four-year-old son, Josh, had been killed in a hit and run while Christmas shopping in London just over two years ago, it hadn’t taken a long for the news to spread. Cynthia had taken it upon herself to visit him every day to make sure he was okay. He’d been very resistant at first, sometimes not even getting out of bed when she came, but somehow he had got through it, with her help, and she had never left. She and her husband John had never had children and it was as if she saw him as the son she’d never had. These days they were down to two or three visits a week and he knew he’d be lost without her.
After he had finished eating and washing up the plates, he debated whether to go to his local for a pint. Deciding he wasn’t in the mood for company, he took his glass of wine upstairs and settled himself at his desk, which was set up in the spare room. This was the one room in the house that Cynthia was not allowed to clean. Much to her disgust. To the untrained eye it looked as if there had been an explosion in a paper factory. There were piles of papers stacked on the desk, on the floor and on any spare surface.
He had always had an interest in cold cases, particularly those involving missing children, but since losing Kate and Josh he had got more involved than ever. Whenever he had any spare time he would immerse himself in case files, hoping that he would find something that would bring a child home. At first it had been hard convincing other forces to let him review their cases but, over the years, he had built up a rapport with most of them and nowadays his requests barely raised an eyebrow. While this may not have been the healthiest way to spend his time, he found it gave him a sense of doing something positive. Almost, in some way, as if he was making it up to Josh for not being able to protect him. Clearing a space on his desk he opened the file in front of him which had arrived last week. Mason Parks had been at a soft play park with his mum nearly four years ago when she had gone to get a drink from the café. When she had returned six year old Mason had vanished. He had not been seen since. Finding a pad of paper from one of the piles on the desk he made a list of things to do and enquiries to follow up. He was so immersed that it wasn’t until he looked at his watch that he realised it was two a.m. and he’d been at it for hours. He decided to head off to bed. He fell asleep quickly and, not unusually, dreamt of Josh. That night however, there were two other little boys in his dreams as well.
Chapter Seven
Lee’s alarm woke him at six and he was just getting out of the shower when his mobile rang. Quickly wrapping a towel around himself he grabbed it from the bedside table before it could go to voicemail.
‘DS Briggs’
‘Hello, it’s Dr Sharma from Dorchester Hospital.’
‘Hello doctor. I’m hoping you’re ringing with good news?’
‘I’m afraid not. She suffered another major bleed on the brain during the night. She was rushed to theatre but there was nothing we could do. The damage was catastrophic. She died on the operating table.’
Lee sat down on his bed. This had now turned into a murder enquiry.
‘Did she ever regain consciousness?’
‘I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.’
“Okay thanks for letting me know.”
Putting his phone down he walked over to his bedroom window. For the first time in days the sun was shining and the snow had stopped falling. This would normally have been enough to raise his spirits but, following the phone call from the hospital, he now felt as if it dark cloud was hanging over him.
Chapter Eight
Lee pushed his chair away from his desk in disgust. Three hours of trawling the incident logs and making phone calls to surrounding forces had yielded nothing. The fact that he had nothing more to go one than a name and description didn’t help. As he sat contemplating his next move Cathy walked in and sat herself down across the desk from him.
‘I may have something. I rang a few of my informants after speaking to you yesterday and gave them the description of the father and the kid. I didn’t expect much, but I’ve just had a call from one of my more reliable ones. Before I get into what he said, how much do you know about gypsies?’
‘Not that much if I’m honest. I mean I know they travel and set up camp wherever they feel like it but other than that, not a lot.’
‘Well there is a new worrying trend in the gypsy community for fight clubs. If it was just adults kicking two tonnes of shit out of each other no one would care that much. But it seems these fight clubs involve children who fight it out in the ring while the adults run a book. Winner takes all. My informant was invited to one of these yesterday and, from the description he gave me of the kid involved and the adult with him, I think these are your guys.’
He felt sick to his stomach. The kid was only eight years old for god’s sake.
‘Where was this?’
‘An abandoned farm near Yeovil. He’s given me directions. Lee, if it is the kid you’re looking for, by all accounts he took quite a beating.’
His jaw set in a hard line and he stood up and grabbed his coat ‘You coming?’
‘Just try and stop me.’
Chapter Nine
The abandoned farm looked sinister somehow in the bright sunlight as they drove down the rough dirt track to reach it. Whatever had happened there yesterday, there was clearly no one around now. Getting out of the car they approached what appeared to be the main barn. The sliding doors were not locked and, pushing them open, there was no doubt there had been recent activity inside. There were clear marks in the dust on the floor. Walking towards the centre of the barn they both stopped when they noticed several pools of what appeared to be dried blood on the floor. Lee’s heart sank.
‘Looks like your informant was telling the truth.’
‘Unfortunately yes.’
‘Let’s get uniform and CSI up here. If we can get a DNA profile we’ll be able to compare it to Tracey Collier’s to confirm its Matthew’s.
Cathy moved away to make the call and he stood staring at the bloodstains on the floor. What was this poor kid going through, was he even still alive? He knew he was running out of time to find him. The longer it took the colder the trail would get, and the chances of finding him alive would
disappear.
Chapter Ten
It hurt to breathe. Every time he did the cracked ribs sent shooting pains through his whole body. His face was a swollen mess and he could barely see out of his eyes. Although still throbbing, the pain from the burns on his back had eased a bit. He realised this was partly because he was not on the bare floor of his room, but in the main caravan on one of the beds.
‘You’re awake then?’
Matthew just looked at his dad too scared to move or speak. As he came towards him Matthew flinched but rather than the blow he was expecting, his dad handed him a plate of buttered toast. He hadn’t eaten anything other than mouldy bread and water since his mum had gone so he fell on it like a starving animal. He didn’t know why his dad was in a good mood, but he was going to make the most of before it changed.
‘I never thought having a weedy little fucker like you for a son would do me any good’ laughed his dad. ‘Good thing I bet against you eh?’
‘I’ve got another fight lined up for you in two days. I suppose I’d better look after you a bit better until then. I don’t want to lose a good earner now do I?’
Swallowing his fear and mustering up all his courage, Matthew dared ask the question that had been burning in his mind for the last few days.
‘Where’s my mum?’
Smiling his dad replied.
‘She was sick of your sniveling so she fucked off. Said you were my problem now and I could do what I wanted with you.’
Matthew tried to hold it in but he couldn’t and a sob escaped from his lips. This made his dad’s smile even bigger.
Chapter Eleven
The DNA results were in. The blood on the floor in the barn did belong to the kid. It didn’t tell them where he was now though. Cathy had contacted her informant again and asked him to come in and speak to them, and he was now sat downstairs in one of the interview rooms.
‘You ready?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Let’s do this.’
The man sat across from them looked to be in his mid-40s. His hair looked as if it had never been washed and it was slicked back with grease. From the aroma wafting towards them, it smelt like the rest of him had never been washed either.
‘I’ve told you everything I know’ he said as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest.
Lee let Cathy take the lead. He didn’t trust himself not to grab the slimy bastard by his collar and drag him across the table.
‘You’re not in trouble Carl. We just want to know if there is anything else that you may have forgotten to tell us. However unimportant it seems.’
Silence.
‘How did you find out about these fights?’
‘It’s done by word-of-mouth. I heard it from a guy who heard it from a guy and so on.’
‘Is this a regular thing?’
‘Nowadays, yeah.’
‘Do you know when there’s going to be another one?’
This question seemed to make Carl very uncomfortable and he uncrossed his arms and looked down at his hands. Lee and Cathy exchanged glances, both thinking the same thing.
‘You do don’t to Carl?’
‘I may have heard something.’
‘Carl let me be very clear about this. A young boy’s life is in danger. If you don’t tell us what you know and something happens to that kid you’ll do serious time as an accessory.’
The thought of jail seemed to do the trick.
‘Okay, okay I’ve heard there will be another fight in a couple of days. I don’t know where it is and I don’t even know if it involves the same kid.’
‘When will you find out when and where this fight is taking place?’
‘Not usually until a few hours before.’
‘If you want to avoid prison you’ll contact me as soon as you hear anything. Don’t even think of going to ground because you know I’ll find you and when I do, I’ll throw the book at you. You understand me?’
Carl held his hands up.
‘Sure, okay.’
Chapter Twelve
Lee had to do something to let the frustration out. Everything that could be done was being done and there was nothing he could now but sit and wait. He was finding it hard to drag himself away from the station in case there was any news, but he really needed to go home and take care of some of the jobs he’d been putting off.
The drive home was much easier now that the snow had finally stopped and the roads were clear, apart from the slush piled up at the sides. Pulling into his driveway he was surprised to see there was a car parked there. It was a red Ford focus that he’d never seen before. When he got out and went closer he noticed a rental sticker in the window. There was no one sat in the car and glancing around he couldn’t see anybody nearby either. He was just reaching for his keys to unlock his front door when it was flung open from inside. Standing in the doorway were two men. It was an odd sight as one was over six feet tall and the other barely five feet. Both were grinning at him.
‘You didn’t think we’d forgotten did you?’
He was confused. Forgotten what? Then he remembered it was his birthday. They’d arranged this get-together some months ago but, with everything that had been going on, he’d completely forgotten.
Gary and Jeff were the closest thing he had to family. They’d known each other since they were in Boot Camp together when they’d joined the army. These days they both worked as private security contractors in the Middle East and they didn’t get to see much of each other. The last time they had had been at the funerals.
Gary raised his right hand which was holding a glass of scotch. ‘Hope you don’t mind but we made ourselves at home’. Gary was the tallest of the two. He was almost as wide as he was tall, but there was not an ounce of fat on him. He had a head full of bushy red hair and, since he’d last seen him, he’d grown a beard to match.
‘And if I did?’
‘We’d do it anyway.’ Laughed Gary.
‘How did you get in?’
‘Tut, tut, tut. I can’t believe you’re asking us that.’ Jeff pretended to look hurt. The smallest of the two, he was slim and wiry. His buzz cut made the difference between the two even more startling.
‘Good point. Stupid question.’
‘So what have you been up to?’
He poured himself a drink and they all settled in the living room and he brought them up to speed with the case so far. It was good to be able to talk it through with someone and he could feel himself relaxing slightly as he talked.
The conversation soon turned to reminiscing about the old army days, and to Gary and Jeff telling him stories from the Middle East.
‘It’s not what it used to be out there anymore though so we’ve made a decision.’
‘What’s that then? You’re finally going to get a proper job?’ The very idea of these two holding down a nine to five was laughable.
‘Sort of. We’re moving back to the UK and we’re going to set up our own firm.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Private investigators.’ They exchanged a glance. ‘And we want you to come on board. Don’t make a decision now, just promise us you’ll think about it.’
He didn’t know what to say so he just nodded and promised he would.
Many, many glasses of scotch later they all ran out of steam and, as he stumbled up to bed, he could hear them both setting up on his sofas with the pillows and blankets he’d dug out earlier. He couldn’t help but think how nice it was to have company for a change.
Chapter Thirteen
They’d been travelling for hours and he had no idea where they were. As his dad led him out of the caravan, Matthew was sure that he was going to have to take part in another fight.
‘You’re not fighting today. Just watching.’
There was no barn this time, just an empty field in the middle of nowhere. As before, a ring had been set up around which people were seated. His dad made him sit on a ha
y bale next to him and, as he did, he saw two children enter the ring. Both looked to be about the same age as he was, and both were covered in cuts and bruises of varying colours. Matthew tried to look away as the fighting started but his dad clasped his head in a firm grip and twisted it so that he couldn’t. Feeling hot tears stream down his cheeks he watched as one of the boys, the better fighter, hailed a relentless barrage of punches and kicks down on his opponent. The kicks continued even when he collapsed on the floor, not even able to curl up and protect himself.
When the kicks finally stopped Matthew realised that the boy was no longer moving. One of the men who looked to be in charge walked over to unmoving boy and checked his pulse. Shaking his head he raised the other boy’s arm, indicating him as the winner, and cheering erupted from the spectators. Possibly realising what he had done, the winner suddenly bent over and vomited. The man in charge called over one of his buddies who grabbed the body by the ankles and dragged it out of the ring.