by Jennie Finch
The metal detector was stowed in an abandoned rabbit warren and was none the worse for lying several days unprotected in the ground. Brian brushed off the dirt, switched it on and was pleased to see the battery was holding up just fine. It was unlikely he’d be able to get another and so he intended to get the most use he could from the aging machine. When it finally died on him, well then he’d look for something a bit steadier as a living.
The airfield was too exposed to curious gazes and anyway it had been picked clean long ago, but Brian had seen several other places where the ground looked as if it had been disturbed recently and so he slung the metal detector over his shoulder and marched off across the Levels, heading towards Currey’s Bridge where the River Parrett flowed, thick and viscous in the distance.
It was hard work, walking and swinging the heavy machine in front of him and several times Brian considered chucking the thing over a hedge and heading off towards Ada’s cottage. She was going out, though, he recalled. No chance of a cup of tea there, so he persisted, moving slowly and carefully along the narrow track. He was just across the bridge when he got his first hit and he switched off the machine, dropping to his knees to scrabble at the loose earth before stopping abruptly. He had been very lucky last time, he recalled. Might be a good idea to go a bit gently on this one.
He rummaged around in the hedge, scratching his hand on the thorns before pulling a medium sized branch free to use as a shovel and slowly he loosened the dirt, turning it aside to see what was underneath. There was a soft clanging sound and he froze, memories of the deadly little butterflies still sharp in his mind. Very, very gently he moved the earth away to reveal a large metal tin. Not long in the ground, from the look of it. No signs of rust on the lid or down the sides, he noted as he prised it loose from the damp soil. The tin was surprisingly heavy and he sat down, placing it between his knees to steady it before levering off the lid.
As it popped open there was a faint burst of fruit from inside. Brian sniffed, trying to place the smell. Pineapple, he thought. He had always liked pineapple though rarely had it, except the tinned sort that turned up occasionally at school for pudding. Tilting the tin towards the light, he poked his hand inside, wary of the sharp edges. His hand met cloth, a rough, heavy fabric, tightly wound up and pushed down the sides. Groping around some more he managed to extricate a shoe, then its companion. Brian pushed the tin to one side and examined his find. Decent leather boots, he noted, with good, strong laces. They looked about the right size too. Thrusting his foot inside one, his toes met resistance from the newspaper linings. It was the work of seconds to yank this out, discarding the faded sheets in the ditch behind him. A bit of pulling and wriggling and the boots fitted perfectly.
Brian couldn’t believe his luck. His old shoes were cracked and falling apart, the soles worn away from years of wear. These, he thought as he stood to admire his feet, these were expensive boots. He’d never have been able to afford a pair of these even if they were a bit worn and scuffed in places. He decided to ask Ada if she had any polish, though he wasn’t sure what colour. Was there a special polish or should he darken them down with black?
He turned his attention to the rest of the contents but even he was not desperate enough to covet the Hinkleys. After a moment’s hesitation he rolled up the work shirt and shoved it in his jacket pocket, abandoning the rest of the find by the track. Today, he thought as he sauntered along towards the River, today was a good day.
Friday, in contrast, was not a good day. Alex sat up long into the night watching in disbelief as the election results trickled in. Although only about a third of the constituencies had been announced by the time she gave up and crawled into bed, it was obvious which way the country had voted. When she dragged herself out again the next morning it was apparent the government had been re-elected by a landslide. All her hopes that the changes in the way offenders were treated were dashed. It was all set to continue and, worse for her personally, it looked as though the controversial ‘Section 28’ was now to be enacted.
‘You look like total shit,’ said Sue, peering at her over a cup of tea.
‘So would you if you’d seen and heard some of the gloating last night,’ Alex grumbled.
Sue shrugged her shoulders.
‘There’s nothing we could do to change it,’ she said. ‘Too many greedy people don’t give a damn about the rest of the country. Why should they give up their nice share offers because a few criminals need a helping hand. No-one cares anymore.’
‘Except for us,’ said Alex stubbornly.
‘Yes,’ said Sue. ‘Except for us. And look where that’s got us. I don’t know about you but I was better off as a student than I am now. I don’t know how you manage the mortgage on this house. We just get more clients, less say in their programmes and everything goes up except our salary. You know.’ She fixed Alex with a stern glare over the top of her beaker. ‘I’ve half a mind to go back to teaching for a bit. At least we got to take our holidays.’
‘I didn’t know you were a teacher,’ said Alex. She was quite startled by this bit of news, not least because the thought of Sue being responsible for thirty young, impressionable minds was rather disturbing.
‘Oh, it was at my college in Exeter,’ said Sue. ‘I had the hooligan element, of course. Actually it was quite enjoyable a lot of the time. I came into probation thinking I’d be able to make a difference to some of those in real trouble, not just the YTS drop-outs. Fat chance, the way things are going now.’
In the probation offices there was an air of subdued gloom, not improved by Ricky’s appearance at the tea room door, a wide grin on his face.
‘Anyone sit up to see the election last night?’ he asked. ‘Fantastic!’ With that he was gone, taking the stairs two at a time and whistling as he went.
‘Well,’ muttered Lauren. ‘Glad someone’s happy.’ She was still mulling over Ricky’s remark on Monday. With some reluctance she had mentioned it to Pauline but her line manager had advised against saying anything to anyone else.
‘You’re not sure that’s what he said?’ When Lauren shook her head Pauline continued, ‘Even if he did – and I’m not saying that’s a fact – he can just deny it and it would make things much worse. Look, if he is behaving like that and you can prove it, come to me. It is not acceptable and I won’t have my staff treated to abuse. But until then I can’t really do much.’
Lauren knew Pauline was right. She was also sure Ricky knew it and was extremely unlikely to ever say or do anything so unpleasant in front of a witness. Gathering her belongings, she made her way down the stairs and set to work on the pile of notes Ricky had left on her desk. She was just getting sorted when her phone rang and Ricky demanded her presence upstairs. Replacing the receiver with a sigh, Lauren slid off her high chair and headed for the stairs.
Ricky was on the top floor, right at the farthest end of the building and she was out of breath by the time she reached his office. Ricky didn’t bother to get up as she shoved the heavy door open, glancing at her as she walked across the room to stand in front of his desk. Ricky took a few seconds to finish reading the letter in his hand before looking up.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to ask you to bring your diary. Run and get it could you?’
He turned his attention back to the files in front of him as Lauren turned and struggled her way through the door, along the corridor and down the stairs. Three flights of steps took their toll on her fragile lungs and she stopped to rest for a moment before heading off again, clambering upwards with grim determination.
When she pushed open the office door for a second time Ricky made a show of glancing at the clock before holding out his hand for the book. Lauren handed it over in silence, grateful she did not have to speak, as her breath was coming in short gasps.
Ricky flipped through the diary pages, grunted and handed it back.
‘Thanks,’ he said and looked down at his desk.
Lauren’s hands were shaking in fury
at this abrupt dismissal but she turned and walked out without a word, clutching the diary to her chest. She took the stairs rather more carefully on the way down as her legs felt as if they were made from rubber. She had scarcely got back to her desk when the phone went again. This time he was asking for one of the ‘dead’ files to be brought up. Quickly please as he needed some information from it before he headed off to court.
Wearily Lauren located the buff folder and set off up the stairs once more. By the time she reached the top she was feeling a bit sick and there were flickering black dots in front of her eyes. She took a deep, if slightly uneven, breath and hurried towards Ricky’s office. Again he stayed at his desk, holding out his hand in silence and making her stand in front of him like a schoolgirl summoned for misbehaviour.
‘Fine, that’s all,’ he said and Lauren headed back downstairs again, her feet dragging on the worn carpet as she tried not to stumble. The stairs seemed steeper with every flight and as she turned the corner at the bottom her legs gave way completely. She grabbed frantically at the handrail but it was already out of her reach and she tumbled the last half dozen steps, hitting the door at the bottom with a dull thud.
Pauline was first on the scene, closely followed by Eddie and Alex, who were just inside the day centre. Gently lifting Lauren in his arms, Eddie carried her small frame into the office where he laid her on the rest room couch.
‘Lift her head a bit,’ said Pauline, who was hovering anxiously. ‘She has trouble breathing – she told me once she can’t lie down flat at night.’
Obediently, Eddie lifted Lauren’s head and put a small cushion under her neck before placing his fingers on her wrist to check for a pulse.
‘She’s still breathing but her heartbeat is all over the place,’ he said. ‘I think you’d better phone for an ambulance.’
Chapter Nineteen
Dave Brown took the call from probation sitting at his desk in the Taunton detectives’ room. After thanking Pauline, he spun out of his chair and headed for the Inspector’s office.
‘You just go,’ said his senior officer. ‘We’re just waiting here for results and stuff from the lab. Nothing likely to happen for another week or two, going on the past couple of months. You take the time you need.’
Dave was not totally convinced by this argument but he was too worried about Lauren to argue and anyway the last thing he wanted was to sit around in the detectives’ room waiting for something to happen. Nodding his thanks he grabbed his bag and coat and headed out of the door.
Lauren had been taken to the hospital in Highpoint, a Victorian monstrosity decorated with numerous fake Greek architectural features and several redundant porticos. Dave had often marvelled at its ugliness in passing but today he bounded up the steps without a second glance at the mock Corinthian columns. Hurrying past the glassed-in reception desk, he trotted down long, featureless corridors painted a series of depressing greens. The floor was slippery underfoot and several times a nurse frowned at him as he hurried by, but Dave was blind to anything but the desperate need to reach Lauren.
At the door to the intensive care ward he stopped, taking a moment to steady his breathing and smooth his hair down a bit. A nurse barred his way as he tried to step past the door.
‘I’m sorry, only close relatives are allowed,’ she said. She didn’t look very sorry but she was certainly extremely determined. For a moment Dave considered pulling out his warrant card but he had a feeling that would probably make her even less willing to let him in. Over the far side of the room he caught a glimpse of Jonny hunched over a bed, his posture radiating his anguish.
‘I’m her fiancée,’ Dave whispered. ‘Please, I’ve come over from Taunton. I only heard a little while ago.’
‘Wait here,’ said the nurse and turned towards the single occupied bed. There was some hurried whispering and Jonny looked up, staring right into Dave’s eyes, holding his gaze for a heartbeat before nodding. Dave was halfway across the room before the nurse had beckoned him in.
Lauren lay propped upon her back in the centre of a mass of wires and tubes. She looked tiny and so fragile, surrounded by the forest of medical equipment. Her face was a sickly yellow colour and she was so still he wondered for a moment if he was too late. Then he noticed a screen on the left showing a green line that peaked regularly as it ran across the monitor and he let out his breath with a sigh.
‘She’s stable now,’ said the nurse softly. ‘You may sit with her but not wake her up. Any sign she is disturbed you go out, both of you.’ With that she marched back to her post by the door, leaving Dave and Jonny to stare at one another.
‘Any idea what happened?’ Dave whispered.
Jonny shook his head. ‘No. I’m going to see Alex and Pauline at probation later. I didn’t want to leave her alone in case she woke up. Here, you sit in this chair. I’m dying for a piss.’
Dave settled next to Lauren, taking her right hand in both of his. For a little while he just sat, feeling the gentle pulse beneath his fingers and gazing at her face. Finally he leaned forwards and touched her cheek very lightly. There was no response from Lauren and as the nurse shot a warning scowl in his direction Dave settled into the chair.
People came and went through the day, trickling in to stand beside the bed and look helplessly at Lauren’s tiny figure but Dave did not stir. It was quite late in the evening when Alex arrived, her face grim as she sat on the opposite side of the bed.
‘Do you know what happened?’ Dave asked.
Alex shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not really, though I have my suspicions. I think Lauren’s being bullied at work and I’m sure I know who’s responsible but I can’t prove anything. I should have been looking out for her but I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems, I just didn’t see what was going on.’ Alex blinked back tears, unable to meet Dave’s eyes.
‘You can’t blame yourself,’ said Dave sadly. ‘Lauren always seems so … so strong and bloody minded, to be honest. She’s not the easiest person to help.’ He gave a rather lop-sided grin, then his eyes slid past her to focus on the door.
A porter stepped into the unit, whispered something to the duty nurse, a slightly more sympathetic woman than the last. She nodded in the direction of Lauren’s bed and returned her attention to the papers in front of her. The porter’s shoes squeaked on the polished floor as he made his way over to where Alex and Dave waited.
‘Sorry,’ said the porter. Alex wondered if he were apologising for the shoes or the interruption. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated. ‘Detective Constable Brown?’
Dave nodded. ‘There’s a phone call for you. They insisted it was urgent otherwise I’d not have disturbed you.’
Dave rose to his feel, stretching the stiffness out of his back and shoulders.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Alex in response to his unasked question. ‘I’ll stay here until you get back. We’re not leaving her alone.’
Dave nodded his thanks, gave Lauren’s hand a tiny squeeze and followed the porter out of the door.
Alex leaned back in the hard hospital chair and sighed softly. It had been a long and very depressing day, culminating in the rescheduled appointment with Jake Hollis. He had been even more abrupt and unforthcoming than usual and she had been tempted to send him on his way early so she could get to the hospital but decided she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. As a result, they spent a bad-tempered and unproductive hour in the empty offices before Alex finally put them both out of their misery at half past six.
She had stopped off at her house to grab a sandwich and let Sue know where she was going before heading for the hospital. Now she felt the weight of the last few weeks on her shoulders and when Dave failed to reappear she resigned herself to a long, lonely vigil. As night fell the nurse turned on the lamp at her desk, the light casting long, thin shadows across the small ward. Lauren lay without moving in the bed, only the flickering tracks of the monitor screens to show she was still alive. Half-way down the night, t
he nurse brought her a cup of tea when she checked on the patient. Finally Alex surrendered to her exhaustion and slept.
‘This is not good,’ said Sergeant Lynas as he opened the door to the car and Dave hopped in the passenger seat. Lynas glanced over his shoulder swiftly before making an illegal turn in the street and heading off at top speed.
‘Where we going?’ asked Dave trying to put his anxiety over Lauren to one side.
‘Just south of Pethy,’ said Lynas using the local slang for the village of North Petherton. ‘Same as the others – well, same as most of ’em anyway. Lonely house, woman sitting alone all lit up, naked man landing on the windows. You know.’
‘Bit different from last week then,’ said Dave staring at the scenery as it whizzed past the windows of the car.
‘Could be he had more time to prepare, take off his clothes and stuff’ said Lynas but his voice lacked conviction. ‘Old-Fashioned thinks it’s so close to the last one on account of him being interrupted last week so we’s to treat them all as one series of offences.’
They drove in silence, both unconvinced by Old-Fashioned’s reasoning but neither with the authority to challenge it. On arrival at the cottage they found the crime-scene officers already hard at work and this time there was more good luck.
‘A tyre print,’ said the officer who met their car. ‘Finally we have something on how he’s travelling.’
Dave and Lynas glanced at one another but kept quiet. The officer led them to the back of the garden where several people were photographing and measuring a muddy patch. Sure enough, running through the centre was a tyre print. Narrow but with a thick tread, it was too small to be a motor vehicle and the track was too confined for a car.