"Wait, what are you looking for?" Oliver asked, scrambling after his friend. He raised his torch, and let it skim over the trees surrounding them, and his breath caught in the back of his throat as hundreds of eyes glinted back at them. "Holy fuck!" He breathed the words out as he caught Darren's arm.
"What is—" Darren cut off, and Oliver was only too aware of the sharp intake of breath from his friend. They came to a juddering halt, as Oliver trailed his light over the trees, and the eyes disappeared.
"What was that?" Oliver asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"I think that means we're close," Darren said, and this time there was no mistaking the underlying fear in his voice.
"Close to what, Darren? What have you dragged me into?"
Darren tried to shake free of Oliver's grip, his wide eyes scanning the surrounding woods. "They said if we found his lair and spent the night there—"
"Found who?" Fear caused Oliver's voice to rise an octave. Ice trickled down his spine, and his legs felt wooden.
"The Owl Man," Darren said. In the pale light of the torch, his skin was ashen. "They said if we found the eyes, then we were close..."
"Whose eyes were they?" The ground felt incredibly uneven beneath Oliver's feet, and he struggled to stay upright.
"The ones he took," Darren said solemnly. "AJ said they're all still here, waiting, and watching..." Something rustled in the undergrowth nearby, causing Darren to cut off. "Fuck..."
"We need to leave," Oliver said, his words tumbling over one another as he tried to speak in hushed tones.
"No," Darren said. Despite the fear in his voice, he seemed strangely adamant. "We can't leave until we get it."
"Get what?" Cold, hard fury knotted in the centre of Oliver's chest as he realised his friend's betrayal. "We're here because AJ said he'd give you something, aren't we?"
Darren had the good grace to look ashamed. "He said he could get me a brand new PS5 before anyone else, if I got him something."
"You asshole," Oliver said. "You know he has no intention of getting you a PS5, right? Those things are impossible to get."
"His dad works for a GameStop supplier, so he can definitely get his hands on one."
"Even if that's true, it doesn't mean he's going to give it to you," Oliver hissed. A tree branch cracked on the path behind them, causing both boys to move closer together.
"We just get in, and out," Darren said stubbornly. "We've gone this far."
Oliver shook his head. "You can get it, but I'm not moving from here." As though to emphasise his point, he stamped his foot on the ground, and the dirt shifted beneath him, causing him to pitch sideways. He went over the edge of the embankment in the darkness, his torchlight extinguishing as his hand smashed against a rock, sending pain ricocheting up through his wrist and into his arm. Oliver rolled down the slope, bumping and slapping into the tree branches, and other debris that he couldn't fathom in the darkness until finally he came to a halt at the bottom.
He noticed the musty smell first, because it reminded him of the time their bath had leaked, causing mould to flourish beneath the tiles. It had cost his parents a bomb to get it all ripped out and replaced, but the smell had lingered for a while after. Mum had said it had permeated everything in the room and had replaced all the towels and bath mats with new ones.
"Are you all right, down there?" Darren shouted, his voice bouncing off the trees, making it sound as though it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"I think so," Oliver said, wincing as he tried to move his arm. Pain shot up to his elbow, and it brought scalding tears to his eyes. "I think I broke my arm."
"Shit!" Darren said, his disembodied voice made Oliver feel disorientated. Or maybe that was the fall? He shifted into an upright position and felt something hard and sharp poke him in the leg. Oliver tugged it free of the dirt, but it was too dark to make out anything beyond the fact that it was long, and had a jagged end that had almost broken the skin of his thigh. He placed his good hand down on the ground, and felt around for the torch, but it was nowhere to be found.
"Can you shine your light down here?" He called up to Darren. "My torch is bust." Delicately, he cradled his injured arm against his chest, and swallowed back the pain that threatened to overwhelm his senses. The cold was quickly seeping in through the thin layers of his clothing, numbing the rest of his limbs.
Bright white light appeared overhead, almost blinding Oliver. Raising his good hand, he tried to block the worst of the light. "What's that next to your foot," Darren said.
"You need to call my mum," Oliver said, ignoring his friend. "Tell her to come and get us." There was a wobble in Oliver's voice as he spoke, and instinctively he knew it would be only a matter of time before fear reduced him to the same blubbering mess Darren’s little sister often was.
"Yeah, but that thing there beside you," Darren said. "It's weird."
Oliver spotted his own torch on the ground a couple of feet away. "Call my mum, please," he whimpered.
Darren must have finally registered the pain in his voice. "I'll have to go back to the road, there's no coverage here," he said.
The thought of being left on his own out here was almost enough to make Oliver change his mind, but the sound of his friend moving away told him it was already too late.
Tears blurred his vision and spilled over his face.
He fumbled around in the darkness until his hand closed over the torch that had fallen from his grip during his rapid descent. He flicked on the switch, but was unsurprised when nothing happened.
"Please, just work," he whispered, his voice hoarse with pain and fear. The tears came thick and fast as he fumbled one handedly with the torch, trying to get it to work. His chest was beginning to constrict with panic, his breathing growing shallow. He jiggled the torch back and forth until something within the hard plastic body clicked. Without a second to waste, Oliver flipped the switch a second time, and was rewarded with a small puddle of yellow light that threatened to fade out at any moment. Sucking down a breath, he felt in his pocket for his inhaler and was relieved to find it still safe and sound.
A couple of puffs later and with the limited amount of light from his torch, Oliver felt marginally more in control, and some of his fear receded. He swept the light back and forth as the pain continued to build in his arm.
He'd broken his other wrist when he was seven by falling off a roundabout that Darren and a couple of other boys had been playing together on. They'd spent their time trying to make it spin as fast as they could, and those who were on the roundabout had to hold on for as long as possible. When Oliver's grip had slipped, he'd gone flying, and had crashed into the ground at a sickening speed. He could still remember the moment of impact, and the crunch of bone that accompanied it. That break had been far more grisly, and when he closed his eyes, he could still remember the way the bone had protruded out through the skin of his arm.
Mum had looked faint, as she'd sat with him until the ambulance came, but she'd helped to distract him from the pain, and it was her Oliver thought of as he sat in the semi-darkness of the woods. She was going to kill him...
Taking his scarf off, he wrapped it around his arm the way they'd taught him in the basic first-aid training he'd received as part of Cub Scouts. Tightening the scarf made him nauseous, but as soon as it secured his arm against his chest, he felt a little better.
There were no sounds to betray Darren's return, so Oliver let the pitiful beam of light from the torch skim over the leaf covered ground. He scanned the dirt until he came to rest on the place Darren had been so interested in. Whatever he'd seen sat just above the surface of the dirt, the dome shape a creamy colour in the light from the stars, and the torch he held in his hand.
It reminded him of some large mushrooms he'd found out in the back garden. His dad had called them white puffballs, but to Oliver they had looked like footballs sprouting directly from the ground. Staggering onto his feet, he crossed the leaf covered ground u
ntil he came to a halt above it. Crouching down next to the object, he tentatively reached a hand out, and let his fingers trace down over the rough lines that marred the otherwise smooth surface.
His fingers found a hole in the object's top, and he hooked his fingers into it, before he tugged it from the dirt. It lifted easily enough. Dirt had compacted up inside the hollow centre, and some larger clods dropped away as he hoisted it into the air. Swinging the torch light over it, Oliver noted the two round sockets, and a triangle section that looked suspiciously like something on a skull.
Horror dawned slowly, the pain in his arm dulling his senses. He let it drop back into the dirt, the torch beam following it down as it smacked into the damp leaf strewn earth with a dull thud. The impact knocked some dirt free, and the skull rolled until it lay with its empty eye sockets facing the sky. There was one tooth left in the front of the upper jawbone, but with the lower jaw missing, it took Oliver's mind a couple of sluggish seconds to fill in the pieces of the puzzle he was looking at.
And when it finally clicked into place in his mind, a scream bubbled in the back of his throat for a moment before he flung himself toward the embankment and the scream finally ripped free.
Chapter Eight
DS Ambrose Scofield shovelled chips into his mouth, as fast as his hand could get them there. The younger DC sitting on the other side of the desk rolled her eyes in disgust as he belched loudly and then grinned.
"You want one?" He asked, leaning over the desk toward DC Martina Nicoll. She shook her head and glanced back down at the report she'd been skim reading. "What, you don't eat now?" Ambrose asked, scooping up another fistful of chips, and heaving them into his mouth without bothering to take a breath.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?" Martina said, keeping her gaze downcast. Ambrose wasn't the worst. In fact, if she were rating the sergeants she'd had the misfortune of working with over the years she'd been on the force, she might even have said he was somewhere up near the top. But his eating habits definitely left a lot to be desired.
"Don't go bringing my mum into this," Ambrose said indignantly. Martina glanced up in time to see him jabbing a chip in her direction. "She didn't have the best of manners, but she was an absolute angel on this earth."
Shaking her head, Martina turned her attention back to the file, before she surreptitiously glanced at her watch. Just another fifteen minutes, and then she could leave.
"You two are up!" The DI’s voice carried across the small cramped space of the office, and Martina felt her heart sink. Why was her luck always so shit?
"What we got, guv?" Ambrose scrubbed his hand across his mouth, smearing the grease into the fine hairs that dotted the back of his hand.
"Some kid found a body out in Dalby Forest, I want you two up there to coordinate everything until we've got a grip on the situation."
"Sir, with all due respect, do we have to go?" Martina asked, trying to keep her voice even. DI Brooks glared across at her.
"You might be used to getting your way elsewhere, Nicoll. But you'll learn pretty sharpish that I don't let my detectives skate by."
"Sir, I--"
"You got a hot date or something?" Ambrose asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips. Martina shot him a dirty look as the DI stalked away, leaving them alone.
"What did you say that for?"
"What? I was just asking if you had yourself a date. I didn't think that was a crime." Ambrose actually sounded somewhat injured, and Martina regretted the sharpness in her voice.
She sighed and shook her head. "Forget about it," she said. "It's nothing."
Ambrose kept his mouth shut, and for that she was grateful. That he knew when to stay quiet was definitely a tick in the plus box for Ambrose. She slipped her phone from her bag as he pushed onto his feet. "You go on ahead. I'll be there in a second."
He studied her for a moment before he nodded. "See you in the car."
Martina waited until he was out of sight, before she dialled the number, and listened as it rang on the other end. Drumming her fingers against the desktop, she held her breath until finally when it appeared the call would go unanswered, a voice picked up on the other end.
Chapter Nine
Pausing outside the Brew York Tap Room and Beer Hall—the bar the team had chosen for their Christmas party—Harriet felt the tension in her shoulders slowly ratchet up. She'd spent much of the day thinking over and over about the invite she'd received from the monk. When she'd received the email from the DCI, she'd genuinely believed he'd done so by mistake. Of course a quick phone call had cleared it up, and she'd been left in no doubt that there was no mistake in his invitation.
However, there was a part of her—as much as she hated to admit it—that felt wounded by the fact that Drew hadn't thought to invite her himself. Sure, things were a little odd between them. He was definitely dwelling on something, and she wasn't one to pry. Instead, she'd been secure in the knowledge that when Drew was ready to speak about whatever issues he was struggling with, he would do just that.
"Hey, Doc, didn't expect to see you here!" The shout went up behind Harriet, and she jumped as DC Olivia Crandell slammed her hand down on her shoulder. "Really didn't think this would be your scene."
Harriet smiled tentatively as she took in the young DC's casual attire. She'd grown so accustomed to seeing Olivia in dark slacks and baggy suit jackets, that to see her out in a blush pink jumper and tight blue jeans was a complete novelty. "I'm still not sure that it is, but the mo--" Harriet cut herself off before the nickname Drew had christened his superior officer with slipped out. "DCI Gregson seemed to insinuate this was mandatory; a team building endeavour I think were the exact words he used."
Olivia rolled her eyes. "Of course he did. Trust the monk to make everything hard-work." Olivia's smile brightened. "You coming in, or are you planning on freezing to death out here?" Olivia shivered as though to emphasise her words.
"I'm definitely coming in," Harriet said, squaring her shoulders as the DC steered her toward the doors.
A couple of moments later, surrounded by the press of bodies inside the crowded beer hall, Harriet felt herself swept along by the jubilant emotions of those who were determined to enjoy themselves; if they could get drunk at the same time, all the better.
She followed Olivia through the press until they found the rest of the team grouped together at a long wooden bench style table. Harriet scanned the area, but was surprised to find there was no sign of Drew. DI Appleton's face lit up as soon as she laid eyes on Olivia, and she beckoned to them both.
"Come on in and join us!" Her voice carried surprisingly easily over the noise of the surrounding conversations.
"Budge up, Maz," Olivia said good-naturedly as she squeezed onto the bench next to him, leaving a gap barely wide enough for Harriet to fit onto.
"Where's the big man himself?" Melissa asked the moment Harriet had settled onto the bench.
"You mean Drew?"
Melissa's eyes were a little glazed, and her face was flushed—either through the heat of the space or the beer she was working her way through. Not that Harriet could tell. "I haven't seen him today," she said, leaning toward Melissa. "I thought he'd be here already."
"So did I," Melissa said thoughtfully as she settled back on the bench and downed the last of the amber liquid in her glass in one gulp. "We need another round!"
Harriet satisfied herself by settling back on the bench to observe the behaviour of the other officers. The chatter flowed as easily as the beer, and Harriet found herself swept along by the jubilant atmosphere created by those around her. Breaking away from the group, she made her way through the crowd to the bar. As she neared the counter, her gaze snagged on the sight of Drew as he made his way in through the main doors. Unobserved, she stood back and watched as he brushed the droplets of rain from his hair and swept his hooded gaze over the rowdy crowd.
He caught sight of her almost immediately, and somethi
ng in his body language relaxed as he made a beeline toward her.
"I didn't think this was your kind of thing?"
"You know, you're not the first person to say that tonight. I think you must all have a very poor impression of me," Harriet said, only half teasing.
Drew shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it. This isn't my scene either."
Harriet smiled. "That doesn't surprise me. I was just going to get a drink. Do you want something?"
A furrow appeared in the middle of his brow. "I know how to have fun," he said.
"I never said you couldn't."
His gaze probed at her until finally his expression closed and became unreadable. "I'll get these," Drew said. "It's the least I could do considering you're letting me crash at your place." Something had shifted between them, she could feel it but he was shutting her out and she couldn't get a handle on his mood.
Before she could answer, Melissa bounded up behind them. "Finally!" Her voice carried over the din, drawing the attention of the others gathered at the table. "I thought you'd chickened out." She jabbed her finger against Drew's chest, emphasising each one of her words as she spoke. Harriet took a step back as Melissa manoeuvred her body so that she blocked Drew's body with her own. If she didn't know any better, she might have thought it was a possessive move designed to isolate her from Drew.
From her vantage point, Harriet studied the other woman, watching on as she placed her hand on Drew's arm, her fingers stroking against the fabric of his wool coat. Melissa tipped her chin upwards, angling her gaze up at Drew. And through it all, Drew seemed utterly oblivious to his colleague’s flirty behaviour. That knowledge brought a small smile to Harriet's face.
"I'm a man of my word," Drew said. From where she stood, Harriet couldn't help but think that Drew looked like a man completely out of his depth.
Hunting the Silence: The Yorkshire Murders (DI Haskell & Quinn Crime Thriller Series Book 4) Page 5