The Wilds

by Kit Tinsley

  It felt good to Karl to finally get that off his chest. He had been feeling that way for some time, but refused to admit it to anyone. Now, though, he couldn’t go on pretending he was happy. He did not know what it was about Jason Flynn that made him feel comfortable enough to open up to him, he guessed, though, that it was a good quality for a reporter to have.

  ‘What have you been up to since I saw you this morning?’ Jason asked. ‘Any news about your brother?’

  Karl shook his head.

  ‘No, nothing yet,’ he said. ‘I went around some of the farms, to see if anyone had seen him. Phil sold farm insurance, and if Pearce’s crash theory is true and he staggered off injured I thought he might have gone to one of the nearby farms for help.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Jason said. ‘Did you find anything out?’

  ‘No,’ Karl said, the disappointment hitting him once more. ‘A few people said they’d seen him, but not recently. They’re a strange bunch, though.’

  Jason laughed.

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Some of them were a little unfriendly and one of them was downright rude.’

  ‘If you’re not a local, you’re not worth talking to with most of them.’

  ‘The nicest people I met were the Pritchards,’ Karl said, remembering the kindly old woman with her warm smile.

  ‘Pritchards?’ Jason asked looking confused.

  ‘Yeah, the old lady and her husband. Their farm backs on to Maltham woods.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Jason said. ‘I don’t understand, though. Mrs Pritchard has been living on her own in that farm for years. Her husband was something of a local hero. He was a soldier who won a load of medals, saved a load of lives as I remember, then he bought a circus and ran that for a few years. When he retired he bought that farm on the edge of the woods. He died in a farm accident a few years later. She used to volunteer at the primary school I went to, as a helper. They’d call her a teaching assistant now. Lovely lady. Always felt sorry her living out on that old farm on her own. I wonder if the old girl has got herself a new man? What did he look like?’

  ‘He was quite a bit younger than her. He had glasses and a beard, and was wearing a really thick, tatty, old jumper.’

  Karl saw a flash of recognition on Jason’s face.

  ‘Was it a really dull yellow colour by any chance?’ he asked.

  Karl nodded.

  ‘Sounds like Altman?’ Jason proclaimed.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Charles Altman.’

  ‘Yes that’s right,’ Karl said remembering. ‘She introduced him as Charles. Who is he?’

  ‘If you ask most people around here they would say he is one of the local nutters.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I think he has a few screws loose, but he’s not as crazy as they would like to make out, but more about that later.’

  Karl was curious, but did not want to push for too much information. Instead, he remembered something Jason had said earlier in the day.

  ‘What did you mean this morning when you said not all the deaths around here are accidents?’

  Jason nodded, then leant forward. His voice lowered, as if he did not want everyone to hear what he was saying.

  ‘The roads around here are dangerous, there’s no doubt about that, narrow, winding lanes with hedgerows all around. There are a lot of accidents, more than most other counties. Sometimes, though, a death is called a hit and run, when it isn’t.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Karl asked, he was starting to feel like he was talking to one of those conspiracy theorists. The ones that thought that aliens, or freemasons, or even alien lizards were insidiously ruling the world. The same sort of people who had been convinced that the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012 had signaled the end of the world. Karl supposed these people had always been around, but the internet had given them a voice, a platform from which they could unite. He had never put too much credence in what these people had to say. He was surprised that a clearly intelligent man like Jason would be talking like that.

  ‘I have some sources in our local constabulary, who tell me about little inconsistencies. Things like there not being any tyre marks at the scene, or the bodies looking like they had been torn to pieces.’

  ‘Surely the police notice things like that.’

  ‘Who knows?’ Jason said. ‘To be honest with you I’m not sure if the local police are completely incompetent or whether they’re deliberately covering something up.’

  This all sounded a little farfetched to Karl, and yet there was something in the way Jason was saying it, some strength of conviction that could not be denied.

  ‘Why would they do that?’ he asked.

  ‘Again, who knows?’ Jason said. He paused briefly, looking around the room to make sure that no one was listening. ‘This is a quiet part of the country, most of the world doesn’t even know we exist, and most people around here would like to keep it that way. Perhaps unexplained deaths would draw unwanted attention to the place.’

  Karl shook his head.

  ‘It seems a bit farfetched.’

  ‘It did to me at first, but the more I’ve investigated it, the more plausible it seems that there is some sort of cover up.’

  ‘Inspector Pearce seemed very professional, even if he wasn’t much help,’ Karl said.

  Jason snorted his derision.

  ‘Pearce is a stubborn wanker who won’t listen to anything he doesn’t want to hear.’

  ‘He doesn’t seem to have the best opinion of you either.’

  Jason smiled.

  ‘Let’s just say that we have had a few run-ins over the years,’ he said still smiling.

  It was clear to Karl that, whatever had gone on between the inspector and Jason, the reporter enjoyed antagonising Pearce.

  ‘It’s not just hit and runs, though, Karl,’ Jason continued. ‘People disappear around here.’

  ‘Like Phil?’

  ‘Yes, your brother was the twenty-first person to disappear in the last six years; the girl last night was the twenty-second. In fact if you look back over the records of the last thirty-five years there have been roughly four disappearances a year. That is a lot for such a small town, and that’s only the ones that have been reported. God knows how many more there are.’

  Karl had to admit that it seemed like these were unusually high figures. Back in London he heard stories of people going missing virtually every day. It was a fact of life there. The size, and nature of the city made it easy for people just slip away, as though they had fallen between the crack in the pavement. Here in Darton, like any rural community, there were far fewer people and things were closer knit, making it hard for people to vanish without a trace.

  ‘You said earlier that you had a theory, the one that made Pearce mention aliens and Bigfoot.’

  Jason looked serious.

  ‘Yes, it’s a theory that I and our local nutter, Altman share.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘He was a vet who worked all over the country. He saw lots of strange livestock mutilations and became a little obsessed. He quit his day job and dedicated his time trying to trying to prove his theories.’ Jason stopped and looked around again.

  ‘When he came to this area, I was sent to interview him. I got the story and at first I thought he was another oddball, which of course he is, but after I’d spoken to him I realised there is a lot more to what he thinks than most people would want to admit.’

  ‘Which is?’

  Jason looked at him. Karl could feel the reporter sizing him up, trying to decide if he was ready to hear this or not. Karl looked back at him confidently, it was enough for the reporter.

  ‘He believes, and so do I, that there are big cats living in the wild in the countryside.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Pearce was still in an awful mood as he walked the young man out of the police station. He felt that familiar burning sensation in his chest and throat, heartburn again. He was
convinced he was getting an ulcer from all of the stress he had to deal with on a daily basis. He led the young man, Tim, to the main door and down the steps. The young man was silent as they walked. It was clear to everyone that Tim had nothing to do with his girlfriend’s disappearance, but there was only so long that Pearce could play the ‘runaway’ card before people started asking awkward questions. It was best to keep the Lovecott boy on the sidelines as a potential suspect.

  As they got outside Pearce turned to the young man. He placed a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Go home and get some rest.’

  Tim shook his head.

  ‘I have to go and look for Julie,’ he said, his already red eyes starting to water again.

  ‘We didn’t find any sign of a crime at the scene,’ Pearce said reassuringly. ‘You said yourself that you got knocked out and were away from her for some time. She probably just got annoyed waiting and decided to leave and scare you.’

  ‘She wouldn’t do that,’ Tim said, a trace of anger in his voice that was not lost on Pearce, who regarded him coolly for a few seconds. ‘She loves me,’ Tim continued, dropping his gaze to the floor.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll turn up,’ Pearce said, returning to reassuring mode. ‘Just go home, she’ll probably call you before the night’s out.’

  Pearce could see the temptation on the young man’s face, the flicker of anger in his eyes, the twitch of the nostrils and the slight parting of the lips that all suggested he wanted to argue. Then it was gone, whatever the boy wanted to say, he had thought better of it.

  Tim nodded slowly then started to walk away.

  ‘Oh, Tim,’ Pearce called after him, making him stop and look back. ‘Just in case she doesn’t turn up, don’t go too far away. We might want to speak with you again.’

  The boy looked at him in disbelief. Pearce watched as he once more nodded and then walked away. Pearce felt a little better now; something about intimidating people always made him feel a better. He headed back inside, trying to think of ways he could intimidate Flynn. That would give him the greatest satisfaction.

  He walked into the small kitchen next to the CID offices. Holly Booth was in there making a coffee. She saw him enter and held up an empty mug to him, waving it to show she was asking if he wanted one. He nodded.

  ‘So what did you make of that Lovecott boy?’ he asked.

  He could see from the way she was studying his face she was trying to tell if he wanted her honest opinion, or if he just wanted her to say what he wanted her too.

  ‘Honestly,’ he said.

  She set the teaspoon she was holding down on the counter and turned to face him.

  ‘Honestly,’ she repeated. ‘I don’t think he has anything to do with Miss Mears’ disappearance. He seems genuinely upset and concerned. He seems like the kind of lad who wouldn’t hurt anyone.’

  Pearce shrugged.

  ‘Those kind of people are often the most dangerous,’ he said. ‘Did you know he does clay pigeon shooting? Quite the marksmen, apparently.’

  Booth laughed. The kettle behind her switched off and she turned back to the cups.

  ‘Just knowing how to use a gun doesn’t make you a killer,’ she said while pouring the drinks. ‘If it did we’d have to arrest about half the population around here. You asked for my honest opinion, sir, and I gave it to you. The more important question, I suppose, is do you think he’s involved?’

  She finished stirring the coffees and handed the black one with two sugars to Pearce.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, taking the steaming cup from her. ‘I don’t think he has anything to do with her disappearance. What worries me is, if she didn’t just get pissed off and leave him, then what did happen to her?’

  Booth looked at him, he could see the question she was too scared to ask dance across her face.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Something is going on out there isn’t it, sir?’ she said. ‘Something bad. I was wondering if you had any idea what it is?’

  Pearce sighed. He seemed to be getting questioned about this whole thing from all directions.

  ‘Something is going on,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what it is for sure. I have a few suspicions, but I’m not ready to voice them yet.’

  Booth nodded. Pearce could see she was disappointed with his answer. He had to admit he was fond of her. Over the years he had taken a lot of rookies under his wing, but she was the one who had shown the most promise. One day she would make a fine detective and, God willing, if he ever got his promotion, she was destined to make a great replacement for him.

  ‘When I am ready,’ he said, ‘you will be the first to know.’

  She smiled. She looked like a schoolgirl who had just been praised by the teacher.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said.

  Jason pulled up in the layby that Phil’s car had been found in. As they stepped out into the fresh air, the strength of the wind hit them full in the face. Its slight chill brought a solitary tear to Karl’s eye as he looked out at the flat expanses of fields around the road, the landscape broken up only by the odd spattering of trees. He had always hated it there, it was so flat, so desolate. Sometimes when standing looking at a view like that, he could easily feel isolated from the rest of the human race completely. The landscape of the area around Darton was as much to blame for his being desperate to get away from there. He had left as soon as he could.

  Phil had loved it, though; he had always liked feeling alone. When they were children, he would spend whole days just wandering the countryside on his own. Karl, on the other hand, used to spend his days playing on his Nintendo. He never connected with the place or its people the way his brother had. It sometimes hurt that his brother was such a loner, and yet so much closer to their mother than he. She had loved Phil’s company; whereas Karl, who had always needed to be around people, she kept at arm’s length.

  The thoughts made more tears run from his eyes. He dropped his eyes to the floor and tried to discreetly wipe them dry. When he turned round, though, he saw Jason looking at him. The compassion was clear on the other man’s face.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Jason asked.

  Karl nodded.

  ‘He could be okay you know? This could all be a wild goose chase,’ he paused then smiled. ‘Well, a wild cat chase.’

  Karl managed a smile at the joke. Jason did seem to really care; this wasn’t just about the story for him. Karl sensed that the reporter wanted to prove the danger lurking in the area to help save lives and not just sell papers. It was something that Karl admired; the few journalists he had met in London would have all fed their grandmothers to a big cat for a good story.

  ‘I’m okay,’ Karl said. ‘Just being out here is really making me think about Phil.’

  Jason looked ashamed.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Here I am filling your head with thoughts of big cats killing people when your brother’s missing. I’m such an insensitive twat.’

  ‘No it’s fine,’ Karl said. ‘It’s giving me something to concentrate on, and at least feel like I’m doing something, and it gets me out of the house.’

  ‘How’s your mum holding up?’ Jason asked.

  This was a question that Karl wasn’t sure how to answer. His mother had barely spoken since he got back. Her eyes were constantly red with tears, but her sobbing seemed restrained, and discreet. He wished in some ways that she would let it all out, he would prefer to see her screaming and shouting than this almost catatonic wraith she had become. Would she have reacted the same way if it had been him that disappeared? Somehow, he doubted it. She would been worried and upset yes, but she would have managed; she would have coped without completely withdrawing from the world.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘Not good.’

  ‘I guess that’s to be expected,’ Jason said. ‘What about your dad?’

  ‘Fucked if I know,’ Karl said bitterly. ‘I doubt he even knows what’s happened. He l
eft when I was very young.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jason said again, then added, ‘I know more than most what it’s like not to have a father.’

  Karl looked at him. At first, he didn’t know whether he should ask what Jason meant. They had only met that morning, and perhaps that was too personal a conversation, but Jason had brought it up.

  ‘What happened to your dad?’ Karl asked.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Jason said.

  ‘I have time.’

  ‘My dad wasn’t from around here,’ Jason started.

  ‘I guessed as much from the name Flynn,’ Karl said. ‘It’s not exactly a common name around these parts.’

  ‘He was a traveller, an Irish gypsy, a pikey if you like,’ Jason said, there was a hint that he was ashamed of this part of his heritage. ‘He moved here to get away from that lifestyle. He wanted to settle down. He got a job and met and fell in love with my mum. Her family were less than pleased about it, though, they didn’t go to the wedding, and they were even less thrilled when they found out she was pregnant with me.’

  ‘Despite the fact that my dad had done everything he could to get away from his lifestyle, people couldn’t let go of his past. There were a spate of muggings in town, and just because he was a traveller, my father was the number one suspect. One of these muggings went bad, and the victim died. After that the police went after him hammer and tongs. They got some flimsy evidence, from a questionable source, but it was enough to get him sent down.’

  ‘A few weeks later, a fight broke out in the prison. My dad, being the kind of man he was, stepped in to try and break it up. One of the guys had a makeshift knife, he stabbed my dad in the throat, and he died on the floor of the prison canteen.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Karl said. He was shocked at how bad the story was.