by Penny Grubb
Her ear attuned to any sound that might signal Carl’s return, she reached for the console one last time, needing to know what it was that had disturbed her so suddenly. Who was the tiny woman? As the images reran, Annie stared closely. The woman walked into shot, her back to the camera. The disjointed exchange with Carl; the abrupt attack. And the woman backed off. Three strides and she was gone, never once turning to give the camera even a partial view of her face. Whoever she was, she knew the camera was behind her.
Annie hesitated as she studied Carl’s reaction. Why so extreme? He couldn’t really be hurt. His hand still to his cheek, he watched sullenly as the lorry eased out of shot, leaving his driveway. As he turned, he glanced down and kicked something away, then spun back and pointed, shouting again in another burst of anger. Annie froze the picture and took a closer look. There was the source of the damage to the neat drive. It wasn’t that the tarmac was newly laid; it was that the vehicle had been too heavy and crushed the edges.
Had she just wasted twenty minutes over a strip of crushed tarmac? Was that what had riled Carl Sleeman to white heat? She ran her hands over the console, closing it down. Her gaze darted about the room. She’d left a clear record of her presence that she didn’t know how to erase, but she had hopes that Carl’s lack of attention to detail might allow her to get away with it.
As she retraced her steps back down the stairs and outside, using the thin tweezers to relock the garden door, the images she’d watched played in her head. Carl turning and glancing down; kicking out at the debris as part of his sulk. He didn’t care about the damage. It was an afterthought that made him spin round to shout about it.
She remembered the solid feel of the surface under her feet as she’d marched up the driveway; remembered, too, the crushed kerb that she’d noted only incidentally. She would check as she left, but memory told her it matched the line of damage up the drive. That lorry was too heavy for a residential road. Even packed with the sturdiest of Jean Greenhough’s horses, it wouldn’t be heavy enough to inflict that level of devastation. Not much had been visible to the camera, not enough to say for certain what face the vehicle presented to the world, but Annie would lay bets it had arrived in the livery of a horse box.
CHAPTER 9
Back at the office, Annie pushed the chairs together into a makeshift bed. In the old days, this had been a regular occurrence. She hadn’t expected to be doing it again, but the racecourse was packed with children and their adult guardians. If she’d wanted more privacy, Jean had told her, she could use an overflow room. And she’d shown Annie into a tiny corridor divided into two miniature compartments and a cubby hole that housed a kettle. ‘The overcrowding has to be terminal before anyone’ll use these,’ Jean had said. ‘The lads would rather sleep in the lorries. You have to trek right round to get at the kitchen and the bathroom.’ But Jean hadn’t considered her creeping back in the small hours. She’d have to traipse through the centre of the children’s camp to reach the overflow rooms.
She had her overnight bag with her and had tucked the car out of sight in an adjacent street. Easing the window open allowed in a cool breeze, but she didn’t bother with lights. The gloom was restful. Glancing across towards Pat’s desk, she remembered the scrap of conversation she’d overheard before Pat marched out of the office. A woman’s voice at the other end of the phone. The fear on Pat’s face. She’d assumed it was the caller who’d had that effect on Pat, but maybe it had been the message. The news that Vince was out of hospital. And was it fanciful to make a match with the alarm on Carl Sleeman’s face when that tiny slip of a woman had hit out at him? Was it the same woman?
Annie had no idea what had been going on these past few years. But if she was right in what she’d surmised, then something had triggered a seismic change. Barbara working with Vince Sleeman’s nephew … and desperate enough to connive at bringing Annie back to work against Vince. She couldn’t fit the pieces together. Without being able to talk to Barbara, she didn’t know enough. As for Carl, she wouldn’t risk another close encounter on her own. She’d been seduced into thinking he was no threat by the memory of the lad she’d come across years ago, but he was Vince Sleeman’s nephew, and should be treated as equally dangerous. Yet where else could she go? Carl Sleeman might already have sussed that she’d been in his house. He might be on his way to find her, so she should get in first. She took out her phone, scrolled through to find the numbers Pat had given her, and clicked out a text.
Carl, let’s meet and talk through the case. Annie.
She gave him a couple of minutes but there was no immediate response so she turned off her phone and settled down in the chair.
A door slammed bringing Annie abruptly out of a deep sleep. She sat up, momentarily blinded by a shaft of early morning sun. Shading her eyes, she swivelled sideways off the makeshift bed as she listened. Voices from downstairs. Not Pat. Too early for Pat. It was the downstairs office opening for business. She waited long enough to be sure no one was on their way upstairs then pulled her phone towards her, turned it on and watched for incoming messages. Nothing from Carl Sleeman. Nothing from anyone. She clicked in Pieternel’s number as she stretched and yawned. Pieternel was upbeat. ‘Everything’s fine. Christa’s behaving now the job’s all but finished.’
Annie decided it was simpler to take this at face value and save probing questions for later. After a sketchy wash in the tiny kitchen, she used Pat’s PC to check her emails then studied Google maps of the area close to the racecourse to find the spot where Carl Sleeman had parked his car. The satellite view showed a rough track leading from a narrow lane. She traced the line of it back to the main road. Still too early to ring Pat and hurry her along so she reached across to Pat’s heap of magazines and began to flick through. At five minutes to nine her phone beeped an incoming text. Annie smiled. Carl Sleeman.
No need. Case wrapped up. Go back to London. Contract terminated as of now.
Cradling the phone, she ran her gaze over the words. Case wrapped up? She’d lay bets Jean wouldn’t think so. Carl had been one of the people keen to have her around. Now he too wanted her gone. Contract terminated said no more money, but he couldn’t take back the advance payment, which meant she was free to stick around for a while longer if she chose to. She thought of the exchange between him and Jean. He’d been quite unsubtle then in his need to know that she was on the case and pursuing it to his agenda.
The office phone rang. ‘Annie.’ Jean’s voice sounded relaxed and upbeat. ‘So glad to catch you personally. I rang to say thank you. Thank you so much. I’ve just heard about the lad who’s been arrested. I wanted you to know that no one got near the camp with any drugs. All the kids are fine. We can get on with things properly now. It’s such a relief.’
‘Oh … yes, good. Uh … who told you? When did you hear this?’
‘That lad Lance called up. He told me you’d been in touch.’
Annie resisted the urge to question Jean further. She didn’t trust the office phone and anyway, Jean knew nothing; had never known anything. They exchanged pleasantries and Annie put down the phone with mixed emotions. Carl had set up the situation at the pony camp and now he’d resolved it. End of story. Or was it? Loose ends flapped all around her. There’d been an arrest, had there? She could get Pat to check on that. As she formed the thought the downstairs door slammed and footsteps sounded on the stairs. Recognizing Pat’s heavy tread, Annie moved towards the kettle and clicked it on.
‘Hi. Coffee?’ she greeted her.
‘You been here all night? I thought Vince had arranged a hotel.’
‘Uh … I was late getting finished. I need you to do something. It’s about the case.’
‘No point. The case is closed. You’re off the books.’
Annie looked over to where Pat had wedged herself behind the desk and pulled her keyboard towards her. ‘Vince has terminated your contract. Pity really, I could have done with you a bit longer.’
‘When did you spea
k to Vince?’
‘Oh, I haven’t spoken to him in months. He just gives out orders from his sickbed.’
‘Who did you speak to?’
‘Carl … Lance. He’s the trusted lieutenant these days. Anyway, the woman’s called it off. They’ve sorted it themselves, whatever it was.’
Annie tipped boiling water into the cups. So someone had told Jean there’d been an arrest, and Carl had told Pat that Jean had called it off. She handed Pat her coffee. ‘How’s Barbara? Any change?’ What she really wanted to ask was: how soon will she be able to answer questions?
Pat gave a shrug and glanced up to meet Annie’s eye. ‘She’s pulling through much faster than they expected. It looks like she’ll make a full recovery, but too early to be sure.’
Pat’s tone more than her words pulled Annie up. She’d forgotten the reality as she’d pursued her own theories. Barbara was Pat’s sister; the sister she’d worked with for years. Despite the constant bickering, they must care for each other. Pat must be horribly worried as she struggled to keep the business afloat whilst Barbara hovered between life and death. ‘I can stay on a bit longer,’ she blurted out. ‘They paid up front.’
‘Thanks, kid.’ Pat gave her a lacklustre smile. ‘But I don’t know if it’s worth it. With Babs as she is and Vince about to peg out, I ought to think about winding the business up.’
‘No, don’t say that. This isn’t the time to make those sorts of decisions. I’ll stay on as long as I can. The pony camp thing’s off our backs now so I won’t have to be rushing out there. I can stay and take over Barbara’s stuff here.’ Pat gave a half shrug. ‘I need you to organize a meeting with Carl Sleeman,’ Annie rushed on. ‘I’ve got to find out what’s really going on. That job was a blind just to get me on board because I did a couple of jobs with kids and ponies in the old days. Carl’s up to something and we need to find out what. So can you arrange something but don’t say I’ll be there?’
Pat’s eyebrows rose in surprise, then she gave a wintry smile. ‘The same old Annie after all, wanting every last detail on everything. Well, OK, I need to see him anyway. If things don’t turn a corner, the business’ll wind itself up.’
Annie listened to Pat’s side of the call. ‘I need to meet. Babs might be out for the long term and now Vince has sent Annie packing … no, I’m not trailing all that way … oh, all right … a bite to eat? Café in North Point, OK? What? Yes, Annie’s gone. Yes, it’s for definite.’ Pat turned to her as she ended the call. ‘What have you done to rattle his cage? He wanted to be extra sure you weren’t turning up again. He won’t be best pleased to see you.’
‘I can’t help that. I need some answers. Let’s go.’ As she drove them across town, Annie found herself glancing sideways at Pat. She wanted to come clean about her suspicions, to tell Pat everything, but a voice in her head urged caution. Wait until there was more time. On the other hand, maybe she should do it now before they met Carl, so Pat would understand the questions she was going to ask. Her phone rang. She glanced at the handset – Jean – and clicked it off. ‘Pat, listen, before we get there …’
The jingle of Pat’s phone interrupted her. Pat put the handset to her ear and immediately jerked it away again. ‘Bloody hell! Calm down. I can’t make out a word you’re … what … yes, hang on. She’s driving. I’ll put you on speaker phone.’
‘Annie! Annie, are you there?’ Jean’s voice shrieked into the air.
‘Yes, I can hear you. What is it?’
‘Drugs! The kids! They’re dying …’ Jean’s voice caught as she struggled to get the words out. ‘I thought it’d be a few of them swapping pills. It’s all of them. Oh my God! Annie, you’ve got to come out here.’
Annie pulled the car to a stop at the side of the road. She and Pat exchanged bewildered glances. Behind Jean’s voice they could hear screams, sobs, a whine of sirens and the plaintive wail of a child’s voice crying, ‘Help me. Someone help me …’
CHAPTER 10
For a moment, Annie floundered as she struggled to pull her thoughts to a coherent focus. She felt Pat’s worried gaze; Jean’sexpectation of help. Why me? she wanted to ask. Who am I to know what to do? Instead, she fired questions at Jean. ‘The emergency services are there, yes? Ambulance … police?’
Jean’s words tripped over themselves as she answered. ‘Yes, they’re sending for more … there’s too many … they’re treating them out in the open. I hadn’t thought about the police … I rang you … what shall I do? Shall I ring now?’
‘No, leave it. One of the ambulance crews will have called them. Listen, Jean, has anyone left the site in a horsebox since it happened?’
‘A box? Why would they? We’ve all been helping the kids.’
‘Think, Jean. It’s important. Have any of the boxes gone?’
‘No, they can’t have. They’d have to come past here. No, definitely not.’
‘Keep watch. If anyone takes a box out, get every detail you can. I’m on my way.’
Perturbed, Annie turned to Pat. Again the hidden hand hovered behind the scenes orchestrating her every move. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but this isn’t coincidence. I’m called off the case, then this happens. I’ll drop you at North Point. Go ahead with the meeting. Don’t tell Carl I’m still around.’ Annie paused, realizing she was barking orders at Pat. But Pat didn’t seem to mind, so she went on, ‘Arrange to meet later. I’ll come with you then. It’d be useful if we have time to talk first. There’s some stuff I need to run past you.’
After she’d left Pat at the shopping centre Annie headed out of Hull and towards the racecourse. She found the lane she’d seen on the map earlier, and drove up, looking for the track. With misgivings she turned the car off the tarmac and on to the rutted pathway. It was well worn but the tyre tracks were from motorbikes and four-by-fours, not ordinary cars. She inched up towards the dusty patch where there was space to park, feeling some apprehension that she’d find a horsebox already there, but knowing that was absurd. A conventional box couldn’t get up here, never mind the heavyweight monster she’d seen in Carl’s drive. Once out of the car she crept forward to peer over the rise and down at the lorry park. One by one, she set her sights on the vehicles, dismissing the cars and small trailers, but scrutinizing every box and lorry. Did it match the shape she’d seen? None of them seemed big enough, but then she’d only seen a fraction of it. It was hard to judge. When satisfied there was nothing useful to be seen from this vantage point she scrambled down the bank and went to look for Jean.
As she rounded the corner from the lorry park, Annie saw half a dozen people in a cluster, dishevelled and sweat-streaked. She recognized Jean and a couple of the women she’d seen yesterday. A man and a woman clung on each other’s arms, whilst a tall blond man drooped miserably beside them. As she watched, a brown pony clattered up the track towards them, saddle askew, reins trailing. The tall man stepped towards it and reached out but it sidestepped and put on a burst of speed to avoid him. The rest of them glanced up as it galloped past, then turned away. The hairs stood up at the back of Annie’s neck. All she knew about ponies came from the couple of cases she’d worked for Pat and Barbara years ago, but one thing she’d learnt was that people like Jean never shrugged and ignored a loose pony. She found herself shouting and flapping her hands to head it off. Her sudden movement brought the group to life. They jerked into action and cornered the animal, which gave up the fight as soon as it felt a hand at its neck.
‘Thank God you’re here, Annie,’ said Jean, her voice weary, all hysteria gone. ‘Come on,’ she said to her companions. ‘We mustn’t leave the job half done. We’ve two ponies unaccounted for.’
‘We’ll find them,’ said the blond man. ‘You go and get things sorted out.’
‘Can we talk somewhere?’ said Annie. ‘Get a coffee maybe? Is it safe?’
Jean nodded and they walked together towards the small kitchen where they’d spoken only the day before. Annie stationed herself by the window where
she could see any movement from the lorry park, but she didn’t expect anything. It was too late.
‘It couldn’t have been worse timed,’ Jean began. ‘The kids were bringing their ponies out. The first group was in the far paddock, just getting warmed up. It was a lad called Lee who started giggling. I went over. We’ve a new instructor. I thought he was playing her up. By the time I got there he was babbling and shrieking with laughter, shouting out about … well, I won’t name names, but about his friend’s father. It’s semi common knowledge the man’s having an affair with a teacher at the school but there was little Lee shouting out the details for everyone to hear.’
Annie could see that Jean was operating from another planet, shocked by the morning’s events into a semblance of calm. She eased Jean aside and reached for the kettle herself. She opened the cupboard, took out a fresh jar of coffee and checked its seal before opening it and preparing two cups.
‘I was set to give him a real dressing down,’ Jean was saying, ‘but before I reached him I could see the pony getting agitated. Lee was … he was twitching around in the saddle, babbling nonsense. Then he just sort of threw himself backwards, banged on to the pony’s rump and fell to the ground. The pony took off like a cork from a bottle, straight through the open gate. Another pony got loose in the mêlée and two more kids fell off.
‘I shouted for people. To get the ponies caught … and for a first-aider. I rushed over to Lee. He was having some kind of fit, frothing at the mouth, eyes rolling. We were trying to clear things … the instructor, the new one … we were trying to push the jump stand out of the way. And there was Catherine … right beside me. She’s one of the older ones, a sensible girl. I told her, “Go and call an ambulance. Get Lee’s mum.” But she … she just stood there … just looking at him. It was like … I can’t describe it … like she was paralysed by shock. I shouted at her to get going. She burst into tears. She was saying, “It was me. It was us. We did it.” Over and over.’ Jean pulled in a breath and took the coffee cup that Annie offered.