Dead of Night [Full Book]

by Paul J. Teague

  ‘I’m so sorry for your loss. It must be very difficult—’

  ‘Do I know you?’ Lucy snapped.

  The woman looked at her. She didn’t seem offended by Lucy’s outburst. She seemed tough, as if she’d dealt with much worse.

  ‘I’m so sorry!’ Lucy burst into tears. ‘It’s just ... I can’t really talk about it, it’s still so hard.’

  The woman put her arm around Lucy, holding her, letting her cry without inhibition, it felt good. She remained silent, waiting for Lucy to compose herself again.

  ‘Shall we sit on the bench?’ the woman asked, sensing that Lucy had calmed down.

  ‘I’m sorry if I upset you. I assumed you were at a parent’s or grandparent’s grave when I walked over to you. I hadn’t thought that it might have been your child. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s fine, life has to go on. People behave as if they’re walking on eggshells around me. I’m tired of talking about it. All I want is for the pain to go away, or at least subside a bit. Will it always be like this?’

  The woman studied Lucy’s face. She seemed sympathetic, but there was no real warmth there.

  ‘I can’t even begin to think what you must be going through. And on your own too—’

  ‘Oh no, the father is still with me. Jack, I mean. We’re together still. He’s at work. He works away from home. In Aberdeen.’

  The woman nodded.

  ‘Do you live far from here?’ she asked. ‘I have my car parked outside. I’m happy to run you home if that would help?’

  It was growing dark already. Damn winter, stealing the daylight so fast. Lucy must have been there for well over an hour, she’d been lost in her thoughts.

  ‘I live about a mile away, maybe a little more than that. I don’t want to trouble you ...’

  ‘It’s no trouble at all. It’s getting cold, you don’t want the little one to be out too long in weather like this.’

  Lucy thought little of it then, but she did notice. The woman’s English was excellent, but she detected a hint of German in the way she spoke.

  ‘A lift would be great, thank you.’

  She walked over to the pram, took off the brake, and they started to walk towards the gate.

  ‘Who do you come to visit here?’ Lucy asked. ‘I haven’t seen you around, have I? Are you local?’

  The woman seemed caught off her guard at that.

  ‘No, no, I’m not local, not nowadays anyway. My mother is buried here. I come to visit her whenever I find myself in the county. I don’t have much cause to be here these days, I feel guilty that I don’t get to see her as often as I should.’

  They neared the cemetery entrance, and Lucy discarded the packaging from the teddy bear that she’d placed on Helen’s grave.

  ‘What’s her surname?’ Lucy asked. ‘I might know of her. We’ve been here a while now, we’re slowly getting to know more about the place.’

  Again the woman floundered a little, then quickly recovered.

  ‘That’s my mum over there. Near the entrance. Always had to be the centre of attention!’ She gave a short laugh. Lucy looked at the gravestone. Elsie Martin. Died two years previously.

  ‘Here we are. How do you want to carry the baby? If you put the pram top in the rear seat belts, he’ll be safe enough for a mile. I’ll drive slowly.’

  Lucy fastened Hamish securely on the back seat. She made doubly sure that he was safe. It reminded her of that thing Jack always said about cats: ‘I don’t particularly like them but I’d never hurt one’. Is that how she felt about her son? She hated herself for it.

  The drive to the house only took a few minutes. It would have taken Lucy half an hour to walk it with the pram. She’d been careless letting the time slip away from her like that.

  ‘Here you are, what a delightful house. And so remote too. I bet it’s lovely and quiet here.’

  ‘It’s noisier than the city,’ Lucy replied, ‘particularly in the summer when all the wildlife is out and about. What with wood pigeons, pheasants and owls, it can be a right cacophony sometimes.’

  ‘You prefer to be somewhere busier then?’

  ‘Yes, this place can’t sell soon enough as far as I’m concerned!’

  Lucy stepped out of the car and awkwardly lifted the carrycot off the back seat and clipped it back onto the pram frame.

  ‘Thanks so much for the lift,’ she said, giving a wave.

  She walked up to the house, opened the front door and turned on the lights. She noticed as she took off her coat, switched on the kettle and attended to a crying Hamish, that the woman was parked out on the road for some time. She seemed to be studying something, a map perhaps. Every now and then Lucy would glance out of the window to see if she was still there. After ten minutes, she was on her way.

  What an unusual encounter. There was nothing particularly strange or threatening about the woman, but it did all seem a bit odd. She never saw anybody at the cemetery. And the woman had been mistaken when she’d indicated her mother’s grave.

  Elsie Martin was a well-known villager, even to newcomers like Lucy. She was quite a character, and was often to be seen riding about on a rusty old bicycle. She’d been the village teacher and lived in the Old School House before it had been sold off, given a makeover, and become somebody else’s expensive home. She’d been the last teacher to live there before she moved into her retirement bungalow.

  Lucy hadn’t known her that well, but there was one thing about Elsie Martin that she definitely knew. Elsie had never married and never had any children. She’d lived in the village as a single woman for almost all of her life.

  Jack stared out of the office window thinking about Lucy. He’d made a habit of visiting the cemetery alone on his drive to the station or, if he was back early enough, on his way home. He hadn’t got a clue if he was doing the right thing, but he didn’t want to encourage her to dwell on their loss.

  It wasn’t doing any good, mind you; the flowers were always fresh when he went and the grave perfectly tended. The turfs hadn’t even fully taken yet, you could still clearly see the mosaic of squares through the slowly thickening grass.

  When had they stopped talking about Helen? They mentioned her, of course, but when had the well run dry with new things to say? He was spent. He had nothing else to offer. They would somehow have to learn to live with it and go about their lives. Maybe the pain would subside one day. It was too early to tell. But for the time being, work was an excellent distraction.

  It had been the lowest point in his life walking with that tiny coffin to the grave. At least they’d got to hold her, even if it was only for a few precious minutes. They’d got a photograph too, he’d often open it up and look at it on his phone.

  The thing that was supposed to unite them, to bind them together forever, was the thing that was now driving them apart. They lived in a daze of Jack working away, trying to make enough money to stop the house being taken away from them, and caring for the child who survived. He knew that Lucy was struggling, it ate at him every hour of the day, but he had run out of things to offer. He simply didn’t know what to do to help her anymore. And if their relationship didn’t survive, it would be a second death to grieve over.

  Clive walked into the room. He was on his way to lunch.

  ‘Need anything from town?’ he asked. ‘I fancy that new sushi bar that opened last week. I’ll bring you something back if you’re busy?’

  As Clive shuffled from foot to foot, Jack said, ‘I’m cutting out lunches until we get this run out of the way. I’m carrying more weight than I should. I feel quite heavy when I start to jog.’

  A man with dark hair and thick glasses popped his head around the door.

  ‘Still okay for two o’clock?’ he asked Clive, nodding to acknowledge Jack.

  ‘Yep, yes, I’ll be done by then,’ Clive answered and the man was on his way.

  Jack raised his eyebrows, he hadn’t met this person before, though he’d seen him around the building.

/>   ‘That was Matt Rackham. You might not know him, but he needs you. You’re the geek who creates the code that lets him run his simulations. Without you, he’d be a pharmacist working behind the counter in Boots.’

  ‘Oh, so he’s Matt. I’ve heard about him, but never met him before. Looks like a clever chap. Why do they keep us all apart like that? I couldn’t even tell you where his office is.’

  ‘That’s how they like it. This pharmaceuticals stuff is big bucks. Imagine you invented Viagra and some Chinese Arthur Daley stole the recipe and started selling it a zillion pounds cheaper. You’d be in shit street. You invest all that money in research and testing, and some bugger steals your secret and undercuts you in the market place. It all has to stay separate. The right hand mustn’t know what the left hand is doing.’

  ‘Wow! I’d never thought about it like that. I sit up here banging out the code and I’ve no idea how they’re using it. I just pass it on to the next department.’

  ‘So what bollocks were you saying about not eating lunch? Are you serious? You can do that run backwards, and in your sleep.’

  ‘Who’s that woman talking to Matt now? Is something going on here today? There seem to be a lot of unfamiliar faces around the place.’

  Clive peered out of the glass once again.

  ‘Don’t know her,’ he replied, awkwardly. ‘Never seen her. Looks like a snooty old cow to me. Like those leather boots though. Might get Soph some of those. They’d look good on a woman twenty years younger.’

  Jack let it slide again. He only had to tolerate Clive long enough to find something that paid as well closer to home. Then he could tell him to fuck off and stick his sexist and offensive comments.

  ‘So, last chance. Sushi in a tub or starvation? Which one is it going to be?’

  ‘Starvation,’ Jack replied. ‘Sorry, but if I’m going to get Lucy through this run, I need to be in the best shape that I can be so I can support her. I think it will be good for her if she achieves this. She’ll feel like she’s got a bit of her old life back.’

  ‘If you ask me, you just need to jump back on the horse and get riding again, if you know what I mean?’

  Jack knew exactly what Clive meant and he wanted to punch him in the face for it. Again, he held steady. He’d have to find another job soon. He was in danger of killing Clive. Essentially, there was nothing wrong with him. He wasn’t a bad man, but he couldn’t stop shite coming out of his mouth. He didn’t seem to realise how much offence he was causing with his glib comments.

  ‘Anyhow, your loss,’ Clive finished, waving and exiting Jack’s office. Jack completed a couple of lines of code, ran it and checked it in a simulation environment, then marked it as finished in the task tracker used by the company. He was doing some good work, he hoped that they appreciated his skills.

  He checked his phone. Nothing from Lucy. All was quiet. He checked his Facebook account to give Clive plenty of time to get away from the building. More comments on his last run. It was amazing how many people saw the routes when they were posted live to his feed. He loved a bit of technology. Not much good if you’re trying to sneak an affair behind somebody’s back though.

  Jack had lied to Clive. He was eating lunch, but it wouldn’t be sushi. And he’d be eating it alone. He got up, walked to his window and peered out over the car park. There was Clive. By the time Jack set off he’d be well ahead. To be certain, he’d pop into the gents on the way out. Clive would have a five-minute head start on him.

  As Jack was washing his hands, the woman he’d been surveying earlier came out of another cubicle. Jack hated unisex toilets, he didn’t want to share private moments with members of the opposite sex. There were certain things that he didn’t want to hear his female colleagues doing.

  ‘You’re Mr Dawson, aren’t you?’

  It took him by surprise. He’d never seen this woman in his life before.

  ‘Yes, Jack Dawson. I’m in simulations. A geek.’

  ‘Yes, I know all about you,’ she replied. ‘Your work is of crucial importance to the company.’

  This struck Jack as strange.

  ‘Do you work for Pharmexus?’ he asked. For all he knew, she owned it. He’d long ago learned never to make judgements about people based on their appearance.

  ‘No, just visiting. Call it reconnaissance. We’re supposed to have an open and trusting relationship with you, but I can’t get near this new drug that you’re working on. Must be something very special. They’ve cured the common cold or something like that! Either way, I can’t get a sniff of it. I’m Anna, by the way. Pleased to meet you.’

  Jack recalled Clive’s earlier Viagra comment.

  ‘So you work for another pharmaceuticals company?’

  ‘Yes, we’re based in Germany. We’re collaborating on a stem cell research project. It’s going well, but I’d love to know what you’re onto here. There’s a buzz about the place. I can smell it. There’s a breakthrough in the air.’

  ‘I’m only a tech guy. No secrets here. Only an opportunity to make your eyes glaze over with some coding talk.’

  Jack dried his hands on a paper towel and threw it into the bin.

  ‘Nice to meet you, anyway,’ Jack said, deciding not to extend his hand. It never seemed the right thing to do in the toilets.

  At the time it was nothing out of the ordinary, another casual encounter with somebody at work. He thought little of it, he forgot the woman the moment he walked out of the washroom. But the next time he saw her, she would be in his house, threatening the lives of his family.

  3

  Jack ran through the trees, cracking fallen twigs with his feet and scratching his face with brambles and branches. He was moving faster than he ever had in any race.

  He saw that everything was linked, but he couldn’t understand how. The man they hit must have been running, fleeing for his life, just as he was. Had he been dead when they set fire to the car? He hoped to God he was. And where was Lucy? She had to be somewhere in the woods, or had they got her in one of the vehicles? He hadn’t even thought of that.

  If she’d run into the woods, she would have taken the same side of the road as he had. The ditch on the opposite side was deeper and had water in it. It was more of a stream than a ditch and was not the easiest way to make a quick exit.

  He thought about the hire car. He almost laughed aloud when he thought how they’d discussed their insurance cover earlier. It was all a bit immaterial now. The charred remains of a body might be the more pressing issue.

  The fog was lifting slightly and Jack stopped in a clearing to get his bearings. He could hear voices and see torches flashing behind him. He’d got a good lead on his pursuers and he took a moment to get his breath back. They had guns, and he had every belief that they intended using them.

  But why? Had he and Lucy stumbled across something that they shouldn’t have seen? A drugs deal? Perhaps it was simply a case of wrong time, wrong place? He didn’t know, but this was no half-hearted search. It had the urgency of a manhunt.

  Jack had to plan, he couldn’t just run. He counted the torch beams, there were at least five of them. He couldn’t defend himself against that many men. There was something military about them – the way they dressed and the way they handled themselves. Had he and Lucy stumbled on a covert armed operation?

  There was a crunch as a twig snapped up ahead. It was only a few metres away from him. Urgently he searched the dark, trying to see what it was. It was a deer, a beautiful creature, completely unaware that Jack was there. He froze. The men had gone quiet in the distance, maybe he’d shaken them off. Then a sudden flash, the sound of gunfire, the splash of blood across his face. Was this what it was like to be shot? The deer crashed to the ground. It hadn’t moved at first. It was as if for a moment the animal had been as shocked by the gun as he was.

  Jack stepped back, treading carefully. He took refuge behind a large tree. A cheer went up from the gang of men in the distance. They were making no attempt to co
nceal their whereabouts. It was so remote out there that there was no chance that some householder would hear the shots and alert the police.

  Jack watched as the lights began to advance towards him more quickly now. His pursuers certainly knew how to shoot. He looked at the beautiful creature, its neck blown apart by the impact of the shot. They were talking loudly and laughing, congratulating whoever had pulled the trigger.

  They were close enough for Jack to hear their breathing as they gathered around the carcass to survey their prey. Would he be next? They prodded the animal with their boots, as if looking for signs of life. It was dead alright, there was no chance it could have survived.

  ‘He can’t be far from here!’ one of them said. ‘The river runs just over there, we’ll hear it soon. There’s no way he’s crossing that, too much rain recently. We’ll follow him downhill, and catch him when he gets to it.’

  There was no mention of Lucy. It was him they were after. And there was a river, a block to him continuing through the woods. He’d be herded along the riverbank. If he headed uphill, back to the road, he’d have to run for miles to reach the next village. These men knew the area. His only option was to head downhill and somehow reach the village cross country, or at the very least somewhere where his phone would find a signal if he was going to stand any chance of getting help.

  Where was Lucy? They hadn’t mentioned her, it was him they were after. Was she in one of the cars already?

  He held his breath as one of the men began to relieve himself against the tree. The puddle of steaming urine trickled along the woodland floor and touched the sole of his trainer. He was inches away from the man, his shotgun propped against the tree trunk.

  Jack was completely still. He considered snatching the gun. He thought back to when he was a teenager and he and a friend who had lived on a farm had shot at empty paint pots out in the fields. A shotgun would have two barrels, so a maximum of two shots, depending on what kind of gun it was. The way the neck of the deer had been blown away suggested that he’d shot from both barrels, so maybe he hadn’t even reloaded yet. He decided not to make a grab for the weapon – he’d give himself away and it might well be empty. The others had handguns, who knew how many shots they could fire?