by Mark White
‘By the way, where’s Sergeant Jennings?’ asked Blackett. ‘I haven’t seen him since he asked me to clear the road for him. Must be out searching, is he?’
‘No,’ said Emily. ‘He and PC Jones went up to Fellside Hall not so long ago with Ben Price.’
‘Fellside Hall? What on earth have they gone up there for?’
‘I reckon they think those London fellas have taken the little girl up there. Probably a couple of paedophiles, if you ask me,’ said Dougie Hickman.
‘Dougie Hickman! You’d be well advised to keep that trap of yours clamped shut,’ said Emily. ‘You shouldn’t be going around accusing people of such terrible things, especially without any evidence to back it up. And I’ve heard the utter rubbish you’ve been saying about Reverend Jackson – that kind of talk can be dangerous you know?’
‘Dangerous my arse!’ replied Hickman. ‘You keep your head in the sand if you want to, Emily, but I’m seeing things for how they really are. Why else would they have gone up there for, eh?’
‘Who knows?’ said Emily. ‘There could be lots of reasons. But until we know what’s going on, we have a job to do around here. Unfounded speculation won’t help us find Chloe, will it?’
‘Hmmpphh!’ was the only reply Hickman saw fit to muster.
‘Emily, can you remember what you were saying yesterday about that cross on my field maybe being some kind of curse?’ asked Blackett. Emily nodded. ‘Well, the more I think about it, the more I think you’re right. This place is cursed alright.’
‘What makes you say that, Wilf?’
‘Well, you can’t deny we’re on a run of bad luck…and it’s getting worse all the time. The Carter boys laying into that lad the other night, the incident at the church this morning; and now the missing girl. What next? And to top it all off, we’re snowed in and can’t get out. It’s as if something out there wants to keep us trapped here.’
‘Come off it, Wilf. How many of those have you had?’ asked Tina, pointing to his empty glass, trying to lighten the mood a little.
‘Never mind about that,’ he replied, looking around the room at everyone in turn. ‘I tell you: there’s something else going on around here; something strange. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not normal. I’ll give you an example – when I was trying to clear a way through to the highway for Brian, I swear on my life there was something out there warning me to stop and come back. Okay, as it happens I wasn’t able to go any further anyway, but I can’t say for certain that I would have continued even if I could have. It was like there was a voice inside my head ordering me to turn back. I know you’ll probably think I’m daft, but I hope you know me well enough by now to know that I’m not one for going around making this kind of stuff up.’
A few quiet moments passed by, nobody wanting to be the first to speak, nobody wanting to openly agree with him…even if they did. It was Liam Turner who eventually broke the silence. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything,’ he said, staring sheepishly down at the floor as he spoke. ‘But I saw a black four-by-four heading up the lake road around the same time that Chloe went missing. When I told Sergeant Jennings, he asked me to find PC Jones immediately – he said it was urgent. I’m pretty sure they’ve gone up to Fellside Hall because they think Chloe’s been taken there by whoever was driving that car.’
‘There you are then,’ said Dougie, smiling smugly. ‘I’m right – she’s been kidnapped. In future, you lot would be wise to listen to Dougie Hickman. I know a thing or tw…’
‘Oh, pipe down, Dougie,’ Emily said. ‘Can’t you see this is serious?’
‘What do you think we should do, Bill?’ Blackett asked. ‘Do you think we should go after them? I mean…if these fellas are dangerous, then Brian and the other two might need some help. What do you reckon?’
Bill Turner, who up until now had remained quiet, took a deliberately long slurp of tea as he considered his response. ‘I think,’ he said, placing his cup onto the beermat in front of him, ‘that if they haven’t come back within the hour, a few of us ought to jump into Wilf’s and Jack’s tractors and go up there after them. We can’t leave them up there alone.’
‘But as far as we know, they could be armed with machine guns and machetes,’ said Dougie, his cheeks still burning from Emily’s scolding. ‘Don’t you think we’d be better off focusing our efforts on looking for Chloe here as Sergeant Jennings asked us to?’
‘There’re plenty of people still out there doing that as it is,’ replied Turner. ‘And let’s be honest, the chances of finding her here are looking pretty slim. I suggest we get back out there for the next hour or so and keep searching. If Brian and Cara haven’t returned by four o’clock, we’ll meet back here and get ourselves up to Fellside Hall to give them a hand. And we’ll go armed…just in case. Everybody agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ said Liam.
‘Agreed,’ said Blackett and Cranfield.
The entire room stared at Dougie Hickman. ‘Agreed,’ he said finally, shaking his head to indicate he wasn’t happy with the idea.
‘Good,’ said Turner. ‘That’s settled then. Come on, drink up; let’s get back out there. Emily; where’s left to search?
Emily checked the map. ‘Can you head down to Bobby’s Brook? Nobody’s checked there yet.’
‘Will do,’ he replied. ‘See you in an hour, if not before.’
Emily watched as the five men brushed themselves down, zipped themselves up and marched outside into the overcast afternoon. When they were gone, the door closed behind them, she went back to her map and scratched a red line through the area around Bobby’s Brook.
‘What’s going on, Emily?’ asked Tina. ‘What’s happening to this place?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she replied, sliding the top back onto the pen and standing up. She walked unsteadily over to a window and looked outside. The sky was grey and heavy, the remaining daylight disappearing with every passing minute. She’d listened quietly to Blackett as he’d uncharacteristically shared his feelings with the others, not wanting to interrupt him in mid-flow. However, if she had interrupted him, she would have told him that she didn’t need any convincing that a black cloud had descended onto Shepherd’s Cross – like him, she could feel it in her bones. She hadn’t said anything because she hadn’t wanted to add to an already growing sense of uneasiness amongst the villagers that a dark presence was closing in around them, patiently playing with them like a cat plays with a mouse; biding its time before putting it out of its misery once and for all. Blackett had picked up on it, as had several others she’d talked to in the previous couple of days; particularly the old-timers, who had lived long enough in The Cross to sense when things weren’t right.
Emily looked across the village green to All Saints’ Church, with its snow-covered spire stretching up towards the heavens. She closed her eyes and gripped the windowsill, and with all her strength, she prayed for God’s help.
A storm was coming: a storm too powerful for any man-made shelter to protect against. Was God’s intervention the answer, or was it the strength and determination of the community itself? Either way, it was clear that the battle line between good and evil had been drawn across the very heart of Shepherd’s Cross.
Chapter 11
3.30pm: Sergeant Jennings guided the Land Rover along the driveway of Fellside Hall, searching for a suitable spot to park up without being seen. He could tell by the multitude of tyre tracks criss-crossing through the snow that Blackmoor’s Range Rover had been busy. Ice crunched under the wheels of the Land Rover; falling snow had been replaced by freezing temperatures that had hardened the tracks and made the ground underneath slippery and uneven. Icicles hung from branches like jagged fangs, their tips glistening in the fading light, sharp enough to pierce the toughest skin. Cara sat quietly, imagining the rows of icicles on either side of them to be the jaws of a sleeping dragon who mustn’t be allowed to wake.
The Land Rover rounded the final bend that would lead them past the lake to the
Hall beyond. They would soon be visible to anybody who happened to be keeping an eye out for visitors. ‘Over there,’ said Jennings, pointing to a small copse of fir trees that stood approximately fifteen yards to the left of the track. He turned the steering wheel anti-clockwise and carefully navigated the Land Rover through the deep, untouched snow; edging slowly forwards to avoid spinning the wheels and grounding the chassis. He reached the trees twenty seconds later and killed the engine. Outside, the light was fading – at best, they had an hour before they’d be engulfed in complete darkness.
‘Okay,’ said Jennings, looking over his shoulder to Cara and Ben. ‘From here on in, we’re on foot. We need to do everything we can to reach the Hall without being spotted. With a bit of luck, we’ll be able to sneak around the side and stake the place out. That old wreck is bound to have a few gaps that we can climb through.’
‘Why can’t we just knock on the front door and arrest them?’ asked Ben, unaware of his naivety.
‘Arrest them for what exactly? Without a search warrant, the only way we’re going to find out whether or not they’ve taken your daughter is to get inside without them seeing us.’
‘What if they do see us, Sarge?’ asked Cara. ‘What do we do then?’
‘Good question,’ he answered, unclasping his truncheon and tapping it suggestively onto the dashboard. ‘I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, let’s concentrate our efforts on keeping out of sight and searching for evidence that Chloe’s in there.’ Cara and Ben nodded. ‘I’m not supposed leave these in the car,’ he said, removing the keys from the ignition and sliding them under the overhead sun visor, ‘but if for whatever reason something does happen to one of us and we need to make a run for it, you know where the keys are. Okay, let’s go. And Ben?’ he asked, pausing before opening the door.
‘Yes?’
‘I can’t pretend to understand how you must be feeling right now, but I’m going to remind you that I’m in charge here, okay? I can’t have you acting all gung-ho when we get down there…you’re to stay with me or Cara at all times, do you hear?’
‘Understood.’
‘Good. Because if you don’t, there’s a high probability you’ll scupper our chances of finding her. And I don’t want that to happen any more than you do.’
‘What about the others?’ asked Cara. ‘Bronwyn, Frank and Ted. You don’t think they’ve got anything to do with this, do you?’
‘Hold your horses, Cara. We don’t even know for sure that Blackmoor and King have anything to do with it. This is just a hunch I’m acting on here; there’s not a shred of firm evidence linking them to it. And no; as it happens I don’t think the others have anything to do with it, but just to be on the safe side, we need to assume that they might. Nothing would surprise me after the couple of days I’ve just had. Anyway, enough chin-wagging. Let’s go.’
They left the Land Rover hidden behind the trees and began walking the three hundred yards or so towards Fellside Hall. An unmanaged scattering of bushes and trees that skirted around the left of the lake in front of the Hall provided them with far better cover than if they’d taken the more direct route along the driveway. The lack of a path meant that the going was heavy – all three of them slipped on at least one occasion, with Cara in particular finding it difficult to remain upright – but with every step they drew nearer to the Hall, which stood forebodingly before them like a derelict prison, ready to trap them within its walls.
The line of trees they were walking behind began to thin out, signifying they were almost there. From their position behind a large Rhododendron bush, they were afforded a clear view of their target; but there was at least a twenty yard gap between them and the Hall. They would need to make a run for it and hope that nobody was standing guard. ‘Right,’ said Jennings, pointing towards a low wall that stretched parallel to one side of the Hall. ‘If we can get behind that wall, we should be able to get a decent view without being seen. We’ll then have more of an idea about how best we can get inside. On the count of three, run as fast as you can. One…two…three!’
They sprang from behind the bush and sprinted across to the wall, diving in unison behind it; Cara doing all she could to stifle a shriek as Ben clumsily landed his full weight onto her ankle. ‘Careful!’ she hissed, her hand automatically reaching out to the pain.
‘Sorry,’ he said, half-smiling at her. ‘It was an accident…honestly.’
‘I should bloody well hope so too!’
‘Hey, you two,’ whispered Jennings. ‘Now’s not the time for a lover’s tiff.’
‘Do you think we were seen?’ Cara asked, changing the subject.
‘I don’t know…I don’t think so.’
‘Look,’ said Ben, pointing to a warped board that was hanging loosely from a ground floor window in front of them. ‘That seems as good a place as any to get inside? What do you reckon?’
Jennings scanned the full length of the building, checking to see if there were any more suitable options. ‘Looks good to me,’ he said. ‘Come on.’ He led the way across the short distance from the wall to the window. ‘Help me with this, would you?’ They grabbed the end of the board that was hanging down and twisted it back and forth, until the nails that attached it to the rotting window frame eventually gave way and it came crashing to the ground, narrowly avoiding Ben’s toes as he pulled his foot away in the nick of time. They peered through the gaping hole that had once been a window. Inside was a small, empty room, which in times gone by had perhaps served as a study or card room. Fortunately, the only door that led into or out from the room was closed, allowing for a degree of privacy as one-by-one they hauled themselves over the window ledge and into the clutches of the Hall.
The first thing to hit them was the smell; a musty, dank odour that filled the room like a running tap fills a bath. A mouse scurried into a gap between a skirting board and the floor, sending a shiver down Cara’s spine as she instinctively backed away. The corners of the ceiling were thick with cobwebs carrying the mutilated bodies of a thousand dead flies, strands of broken web floating in the air like the tentacles of a jellyfish.
For a short while, the three of them stood silently, not wanting to move in case they caused a floorboard to creak. Approaching the Hall from the outside had not felt overly precarious – the open air and path back to the Land Rover had given them a certain amount of security – but now that they were inside, that sense of security had all but disappeared. This wasn’t a pretend game of cops and robbers, but a real-life covert investigation into the kidnapping, and possibly worse, of a six-year-old child.
Jennings walked slowly towards the door and placed his ear against it, listening for any sound coming from the hallway on the other side. He glanced back at Cara and Ben and shook his head before moving carefully back over to them. ‘I can’t hear anything,’ he whispered. ‘We’re going to have to get closer.’
‘Maybe we should split up?’ asked Cara. ‘We’ve less chance of making a noise if we’re by ourselves.’
‘Maybe so, but it’s too dangerous. We’ll be more capable of looking after ourselves if we stick together.’ He waved his arm, beckoning them towards the door. As he was about to open it, he turned to them and whispered: ‘From now on, nobody says anything unless it’s urgent, understood? We’ll use signals instead.’ As if to demonstrate their understanding, both Cara and Ben nodded their reply. ‘Good,’ he whispered. ‘One more thing – whatever happens, don’t panic. We need to keep our wits about us.’ Lecture over, he placed his hand around the handle and pulled the door slowly towards himself, expecting it to creak on its rusty hinges. Surprisingly, it opened without a sound.
He poked his head into a long, narrow hallway and checked left and then right, looking and listening for signs of life. Two candles had been fixed to the wall at either end, providing a pitiful amount of light. Jennings strained his eyes in an effort to get his bearings: from the position of the candles, he estimated that the smal
l room they were standing in was somewhere near the middle of the hallway. To his left, it stretched almost twenty yards to a dead end, which was marked by a tall, boarded-up window. There were three doors in that direction, one on the opposite wall to Jennings, and two on his own side. To his right, the hallway again ran for twenty or so yards, but this time there was no dead end; instead there was a sharp turn to the left, beyond which Jennings was unable to see. He could only make out one door in that direction, which suggested that the room behind it was likely to be considerably larger than those to his left. He weighed up his options, realising that choosing the correct way to go would be more down to good luck than good management. It was his curiosity as to where the turning at the end led to that eventually proved to be the decisive factor. Having made up his mind, he stepped out into the hallway and turned right, signalling with his hand for the others to follow him.
Staying close to the wall, they crept slowly down the hallway until they reached the next doorway. It was Cara who went first this time, placing her ear to the door and listening for the sound of people talking behind it. Silence. She opened the door and looked inside. As Jennings had guessed, the room was big, but it was empty. Cara closed it gently and continued down the hallway. When they reached the turning at the end, she peeked around the corner, and then nodded to Jennings; letting him know that they were moving in the right direction. She could tell this by the amount of candles lighting the way, which were far greater in number than the two token examples in the hallway they were about to leave. Ahead of her, she could see a pair of wooden doors, larger and more elegant in style than the others. A voice inside her head told her there was something important behind those doors; something that she needed to see.