On Laughton Moor

by On Laughton Moor (epub)

  Kendrick had settled back down. ‘And he’s sure about the name?’

  ‘He seemed sure, sir. He did say another name at first, Nick I think it was, but then changed his mind.’

  ‘Steve, Nick… Why couldn’t Pollard pal around with people called Archibald or Horatio? It’d make our job a bit easier. Should we be looking at anyone called Nick or Nicholas too?’

  Catherine glanced at Knight. ‘We could do, sir. I’m not sure how long it would take…’ she said.

  Kendrick stood up. ‘It’ll take as long as it needs to, Sergeant, but I don’t want to miss something and have to start again later. Have Pollard’s parent’s seen this?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but they don’t recognise him.’

  ‘Show them again. Dangle the names Steve and Nick in front of them, see if it gives them a nudge in the right direction. I want this charmer interviewed as soon as we can. Right now, it seems he’s the only lead we have. Or am I wrong? Do you have any other little titbits for me?’

  They shook their heads.

  ‘Didn’t think so. Keep me informed.’

  Kendrick strode out, and Catherine and Knight breathed sighs of relief.

  ‘Could have been worse,’ Catherine said. Her mobile rang, and she dragged it from her jacket pocket. ‘Anna?’

  Anna Varcoe’s voice was crackly but audible enough. ‘Hello, Sarge. Not having much luck I’m afraid. The only teacher who would have been here when Pollard was is part-time now and not at school until tomorrow. We’ve got a home address and mobile number, but there’s no sign of her at home and the mobile’s not ringing. We had a word with her neighbour, and apparently, she does a lot of walking, so she’s probably up in the Peak District somewhere with no signal. I’ll keep trying; do you want us back at the station?’

  Catherine asked Varcoe to take the printout back to the Pollards to see if the names they had been given jogged their memories. Ending the call, she saw her phone was showing she’d received a text message, and she opened it:

  Bored of marking essays. Fancy a drink tonight? L

  Eyebrows raised, Catherine sent back:

  Might b a late one.

  The reply was almost instant:

  Wouldn’t expect anything else. Come round when you’re ready.

  Totally confused, but thinking it was worth a try, Catherine typed:

  Food?

  Again, a quick response:

  If you bring a takeaway.

  Smiling, Catherine sent:

  No prob. See u l8er

  No grammar and text talk. Louise would hate it. Knight was waiting for her.

  ‘Sorry, sir. Just a friend. I’ll probably see her later, depending on what time we finish.’

  ‘You’re welcome to stay as long as this goes on, you know,’ Knight said, holding the door open for her. He had heard Catherine crying out during the night, muttering and mumbling in her sleep, and was becoming concerned about how the case was affecting her, bright and breezy as she seemed.

  ‘Thank you. I just don’t want to be in your way or outstay my welcome.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Knight. ‘It’s good to have some company.’

  He was surprised to hear himself say it, and even more surprised to find he meant it.

  Chapter 14

  Catherine Bishop drove across town to Louise’s new address after collecting a Chinese takeaway, feeling strangely nervous. DI Knight had given her his spare key, told her to enjoy herself, to be careful and to let him know if she was going to be out all night. She’d frowned a little at that, as if he thought he was her dad or something, until she’d seen the grin on his face. Careful, she’d thought. You’ll be liking him next. He certainly seemed to be coming out of his shell a little, although she’d noticed some of the other officers still glanced at each other and smiled or shook their heads behind his back. He was just so awkward somehow, especially when compared with DCI Kendrick and the other DIs. Still, as a boss she had no real complaints about him, at least so far, and that was all she needed to worry about. She was almost there, and the butterflies in her stomach increased. She was suddenly conscious of the mud on her boots, and the fact she’d come straight from the station with no time for a shower or even a quick wash. She gave herself a mental shake. It’s Louise. She’s seen you looking like this a million times, looking much worse than this too. It’s not like you need to impress her. She had to admit that a tiny part of her wanted Louise to suddenly realise what she’d been missing, although after a thirteen-hour day, she was unlikely to be looking or smelling her best.

  Catherine saw a spot by the kerb where she could leave the car. It was at the wrong end of Louise’s street, but it would have to do. She clambered out, heaving the bag of food over the gearstick, and awkwardly locked the door. There were footsteps behind her and she tensed, feeling vulnerable with her hands full. She remembered Knight’s warning to be careful as well as the message left with Craig Pollard’s body and fought the temptation to spin around, to see who was there. The distance to Louise’s door seemed miles. She should have parked beneath a streetlight. Come on, Catherine, you’re a police officer, she said to herself sternly. Squaring her shoulders, she turned around, eyes scanning the street. Nothing. There was no one else in sight. Catherine sighed and began to walk down the street, watching and listening, feeling incredibly alert although she was tired. Louise’s house was in sight when there was another sound, running feet some way behind her. Catherine gasped, walking faster, images from her dream of the night before running through her mind. She was level with Louise’s front gate, the footsteps growing closer and closer. Catherine, almost running herself now, stopped to fumble with the bolt on the gate, eventually got it open and hurtled through, onto the gravel path. A figure rushed by on the pavement behind her; a flash of light lit the dark sky for a second, then it was gone. Catherine knocked as loudly as she dared on Louise’s front door, trying to control her breathing. She was fine. The figure was just a kid, there was no danger. The fact that the light had looked just like those in her dreams was a coincidence. It hadn’t been a camera; there was no one out there. You’re okay, Catherine told herself. There was movement in the house, and the door opened. Louise appeared, glass of wine in one hand, paperback book in the other. She’d had her hair cut shorter than Catherine remembered. It suited her, drawing attention to the structure of her face.

  ‘Come in, Catherine. How are you? Long day?’

  Catherine followed her into a short hallway, forcing herself to stay calm. ‘You could say that. I’m fine, thanks. I like your hair. How are you?’

  She held out the bag of food and Louise took it, leading the way into the kitchen where the table was set.

  ‘No candles?’ Catherine joked, some of her bravado returning now she was on the right side of a locked door, though her heart still pounded.

  Louise smiled tiredly. ‘Not tonight. How are you really? You look exhausted. Are you working on the Craig Pollard murder? I couldn’t believe it when I read about it. It just doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that happens around here.’ She poured Catherine a glass of water, which she took gratefully, and started to serve the food. ‘Beef and black bean?’

  ‘Yours, of course. Mine’s the chicken fried rice.’

  Louise glanced at her. ‘That’s a new one.’

  ‘I’m not really hungry.’

  Louise didn’t comment, and they ate in silence for a while, Catherine picking at her food. Eventually she said, ‘This was a surprise.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Inviting me here.’

  Louise took a sip of wine. ‘I invited you here because you said you’d be working late, and I thought it made more sense than me sitting in a pub somewhere waiting for you. I just thought it’d be nice to catch up, that’s all.’

  ‘Nice? I thought English teachers didn’t use that word.’

  ‘Yes, nice. Although I’m starting to wonder why I bothered.’

  Catherine covered her face with h
er hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice muffled. Louise stood, walked around the table and put an arm around her shoulders.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Come and talk to me.’

  In the living room, a wood burner blazed in the fireplace. The lights were dimmed, the colours neutral and calming. Catherine felt herself instantly relax as Louise led her by the hand to the settee.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Catherine repeated.

  ‘Been doing your big brave copper act? What’s going on, Catherine?’

  ‘You know I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Tell me what you can.’

  Catherine relayed the briefest details of the messages left and the photo she’d received, the panic and worry they’d caused her, then the incident just now in the street. Louise listened, staring into the fire.

  When Catherine was quiet, she said, ‘And I don’t suppose you’ve talked to anyone about this? No one knows how worried you’ve been? What if that person outside just now was the person you’re trying to catch? He could have done anything to you. You could be in real danger, Catherine.’

  ‘It was just a kid outside, don’t worry. I’ve spoken to DI Knight. I just need to carry on and when we’ve caught him, it’ll be over.’

  ‘I bet you didn’t tell him how you’ve really been feeling. You need to talk to people.’

  ‘He’s my boss, not my therapist. He needs to know I can do my job, or I’ll be off the case, shunted across to DI Hawkins and her bloody car thefts. This is what I’ve worked for. I can’t let some psycho with a screw loose scare me into giving it up.’

  Louise held up her hands. ‘All right, all right, I get it. No need to shout.’

  There was silence for a while, until Catherine started to get to her feet. ‘I need to go and get some sleep, Louise. I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain in the arse.’

  Louise reached out, held her arm. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

  Slowly, Catherine sat back down. Louise took a deep breath.

  ‘When you sent that text the other night, it got me thinking,’ she said. ‘I do miss you, you know, I have done since I moved out. I just wanted to see you again, to talk and… I don’t know. I know we’ve kept in touch, but I’ve not actually seen you for ages. We were happy, weren’t we? If it hadn’t been for your job…’

  ‘My job is still here though, and all the problems you had with it will still be problems.’

  Louise rubbed her eyes. ‘I know. I know they will, and I understand you love your work and you need to do it. But I miss you. I miss how we were at the beginning.’

  ‘We can’t go back there, though.’

  ‘Maybe we could.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I can be more understanding, I promise. We could keep our separate houses, just see each other a bit more often? When you can?’

  Catherine stared. ‘Where has this come from, Louise? When you left, you told me I was married to my work, that I’d chosen the job over you, over our life together and our future. Now all of a sudden you can compromise? Why has it taken you six months to work it out?’

  There were tears in Louise’s eyes. ‘I miss you,’ she said. ‘I just… miss you.’

  Catherine swallowed, her throat aching. ‘You miss me, or you miss someone coming home to you, eating with you, sharing a bed with you? There’s a difference. I didn’t know if I missed you for yourself or if I missed the company at first.’

  Louise gave a choked laugh. ‘Well, that’s honest. And what did you decide?’

  ‘I missed you. But you left, you walked out.’

  ‘You agreed it was for the best.’

  ‘What choice did I have? None. You gave me two options, us or the job, and to me that’s not what a person who loved me would force me to decide. In the reply to my last text, you said exactly the same, that I’d miss my job more than I missed you. Why have you changed your mind?’

  ‘I haven’t. I just see that I could have been more understanding, that’s all.’

  ‘But why now? Are you saying you want us to get back together? It’s all come out of the blue.’

  Louise held up her hands. ‘I’m just saying it would be good to see more of you, maybe see how things go.’

  ‘Good of you to throw me a few crumbs! Do I have any say in this? You’re also presuming I’m single, which is a bit of cheek really.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Catherine said, ‘but that’s not the point.’

  ‘You know my friends, Amy and Beth?’ Louise asked. Catherine groaned, and Louise rolled her eyes. ‘I know you don’t like them, but I was talking to them, and they’re building a house, thinking about starting a family when it’s finished. It just got me thinking about us, how happy we used to be. I just thought what if I’ve thrown away my chance for a future like that?’

  ‘You didn’t throw it away. We agreed it wasn’t going to work. I’ll admit, I wanted you to stay. I’ve missed you, but we’re the same people in the same situation.’

  Louise got up, took a tissue from a box on the bookcase. ‘I don’t want to argue with you. We’ve done that before,’ she said.

  ‘We’ll always come back to things we’ve said before, because the old issues are still there.’

  Louise looked at Catherine, holding her gaze. ‘Is it just the issues that are still there?’

  Catherine swallowed. ‘What do you mean?’

  Leaning forward, Louise took her hand. ‘Catherine, all I’m asking is if we can try, just take it slowly. I know how I was, I know I said things. I wasn’t very understanding or supportive. You said you missed me.’

  Catherine glanced away. ‘I know. But what if we try, and everything’s the same? My job takes up more time than ever. Would you really want to cope with that again?’

  Louise shrugged. ‘Other people do. I know it seems sudden, but it’s not really. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I just don’t want to look back in a few years and wish I’d at least talked to you about it.’

  ‘And you knew I’d just come running?’ The face of the woman that she had seen in the briefing room flashed into Catherine’s mind and she blinked, thrown for a second.

  Louise pulled her hand away. ‘This has obviously been a mistake.’

  ‘I just want to make sure you realise that nothing’s changed. Just because we’re both still single, it doesn’t mean it will work if we get back together.’

  Frowning, Louise stood again, went through to the kitchen and brought the wine bottle through. There was a tiny amount left and Louise poured it into her glass then drank it down, still standing.

  ‘You’re right. Maybe you should go now, then.’ Her voice was cold.

  Catherine stood too, and they walked to the front door. Catherine turned, wondering what she was supposed to do.

  ‘Bye then,’ she said helplessly.

  ‘Thanks for the food,’ Louise said formally. They stared at each other, eyes sending wordless messages. Slowly, they moved closer until they stood face to face, bodies almost touching.

  ‘Stay tonight?’ whispered Louise.

  * * *

  Knight woke sweating, panicking, knowing he’d probably screamed in his sleep, shouted. The dream was back, more vivid and terrible than ever: the blindfold, the smell of petrol and hatred, the snarled threats and promises. The punches in his gut, the kicks in his ribs and between his legs, the sound and feel of his shirt being torn from his body. Then the weight, someone kneeling on the small of his back, his arms being held by cruel hands, legs pinned down, no idea how many there were or what they would do to him now, if he would even survive. The first touch on his back, his shoulder blade, on the flesh there, a cold, piercing sensation that quickly turned to red-hot agony. The terrible realisation that it was a knife, that they were cutting him, that his blood was running over the front of his shoulder, down his back. They were laughing, taunting him, promising he would never forget this night, he would forever have a reminder of it, just in case he tho
ught of doing something so stupid again. Lying there when they’d dumped him at the side of the road, cold, shivering, losing blood, knowing that he’d brought this on himself.

  Chapter 15

  For the second time, Knight’s sleep was interrupted, this time by his mobile phone. He groaned, rolling over. It felt as if he’d only slept for minutes, but a glance at the glowing figures of his bedside clock told him it was about four hours since his dream had woken him: 6.36 a.m. now. He fumbled for the phone, which was still chirping away somewhere near the clock. Finally grabbing it, he raised it to his ear. Thirty seconds later, he was out of bed, fumbling for clothes, rushing across the landing to the bathroom. He pounded on the door of the spare bedroom to wake DS Bishop, but there was no reply. He stared at the door, remembered and stumbled back to the bedroom, picking up his phone where he’d dropped it on the bed. Sure enough, there was a text from her. He must have already been asleep when it had arrived. Staying here, c u at station tomorrow. CB. He smiled in spite of the news he’d just received. Good for you, he thought. Unfortunately, he was going have to disturb her.

  * * *

  Catherine Bishop stretched out a hand and found Louise’s warm back. It was true then. She’d woken a few minutes before, taking a few seconds to remember where she was, why the wall she was looking at was pale yellow and not white. Louise’s house, Louise’s bedroom, Louise’s bed. She stretched, then buried her face in the pillow, never having imagined accepting Louise’s invitation to meet up would lead to this. Were they back together then? Was that what she wanted? Louise, so familiar, so safe, the shared history and memories, the friends in common, the knowledge of each other’s past and hopes for the future. Everything she thought she’d lost was seemingly back within her grasp and she had to decide whether she wanted to take it, or to run. Perhaps staying last night hadn’t been the best way to begin making that decision. She realised her mobile was ringing. Where the hell was it? It had been in her jacket pocket and she seemed to remember her clothes were on the floor at the side of the bed. She leant over to look, and sure enough could see the screen of the phone, clearly lit through the fabric of her shirt, which was lying on top of it. She heaved herself onto the floor and grabbed it. DI Knight. Not good at this time of the morning.