by M K Turner
“As soon as possible I suppose. My only concern is how to get the search underway without telling them how I know where to look.”
“In which case, we need to keep going with this. I wonder if we can get into the house? That was the last sighting of Chelly, and it worked when we were looking for Teresa. What do you think, Inspector . . . Frank?” Margaret began collecting the cups and putting them on the tray. “Action is needed, I think. But first another drink.”
Ryan lifted Lily. “You didn’t ask permission before, you knocked on the door as I remember. I’ll help with that tea, there’s a blueberry muffin with my name on it out there.”
“We did,” Bridget agreed. “I knew we had to get in there. I think we should do the same again. It’s a long shot, but some of the neighbours might still be around.”
“Well you lot get on with that, and I’ll give Lorna another ring.” Lifting her phone, Angie went to sit on the stairs. Returning almost immediately, she grimaced. “Answer service again. I’ve left another message.”
“Until we hear from her we need an alternative plan of action.” Itching to get moving, Bridget gave a definite nod. “I think we should—”
“Before you say any more, I should tell you that whatever the outcome today, I’m spending a day with Ryan and Lily tomorrow. Ryan will be back to work soon, and we’re going to do something as a family.”
“If you’d let me finish, and subject to your mother’s agreement,” rolling her eyes, Bridget nodded towards the kitchen, “and if Frank has the time, I was going to suggest that you go to the spot where Henry died with Frank, and your mother and I go and gain entry to the Rogers’ family home.”
“I can do that.” The inspector looked sheepish. “It’s my day off, so it’s work with you lot, or start decorating the hall.”
Clapping, Bridget beamed at him. “Splendid, then that’s what we shall do.”
Using the tray to push open the door, Margaret looked at her. “What is? What are we doing?”
Liking the idea of moving the investigation on, it was Tipper who answered. “I’ll take Angie to The Ridge and see what if anything she can discern, and you will go with Mrs Bearing, I mean Bridget, and see if you can get into the Rogers’ old house.”
“Sounds reasonable to me.” Margaret looked at Angie. “No joy with Lorna I take it?”
An hour later they set off. When they left the main road, Tipper and Angie carried on up the lanes towards the bus stop where Henry had disappeared and Margaret and Bridget turned right towards the small estate where the Rogers had lived.
“I like sorting out these cases.” Angie glanced at Tipper. “But I have to say, I hate this bit. Finding out where they ended up is so emotional, if we succeed I might not have much to say on the way back.”
“Understandable. I’m envious you know, of you three and your talents. Don’t laugh, but when I was a little younger, I tried to read the tea leaves like my old nan used to.”
“No joy, I take it.” Suppressing her grin, Angie turned a little in her seat to look at him.
“Not really. I didn’t want anyone to know, and when she died, no one used loose tea anymore. We became a teabag only family. There was no way I could square cutting open teabags for anyone.”
“Ah. Yes, that would be a problem. I’ll tell you what, I’ll buy some tea and you can have a go on us when all this is over.” Returning his grin, she pointed ahead. “Once you go around that bend, the bus stop is on the brow of the hill.”
Tipper nodded. “Right you are. I’ll turn the car around, and once we can see The Ridge, I’ll slow down until you tell me to stop.”
“Okay. It wasn’t far, depending on how fast she was driving.”
Having reached the bus stop, Tipper turned the car and headed back the way they had come. He drove slowly.
“The Ridge is coming up any minute.” Glancing at Angie, he found she had already closed her eyes.
“Thank you. Keep driving, you might want to keep an eye on the verges too, Henry chose to go up to The Ridge because he didn’t feel safe walking on the road. How sad is that, he might have survived if . . . STOP!”
Releasing her seatbelt, Angie turned to look back a little way.
Pulling over, Tipper followed her gaze. “Do you want me to reverse?”
“You can do. But it’s more important that you park the car safely.”
Tipper put the car into reverse. “Tell me when.”
“Now.” Opening the door, Angie got out. “Give me five minutes.”
“You carry on. I’m going to park over there.” Pointing to a five-bar gate set a little back from the road on the opposite side, he hit the indicator.
Blocking the gate, he pulled out a card marked Police – Emergency from the glove compartment and placed it on the dashboard. As he climbed out of the car, he looked at his shoes. He’d known this was a possibility, so why on earth hadn’t he brought something more sensible? He gave a little sigh; now he knew how Henry had felt.
He leaned on the side of the car and watched Angie. Having navigated the stubble at the recently trimmed roadside, she was climbing over a small fence that skirted the woods, and stood looking towards The Ridge. Tipper did the same. There was nothing to see but trees. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he crossed the road to join her, but before he’d even cleared the small fence, Angie was already heading for The Ridge. Allowing her time to think, or feel, or whatever it was she did, Tipper didn’t hurry. Instead, keeping an eye on her progress, he carefully followed her route.
Nearing the top of The Ridge, Angie ground to a halt. She could feel nothing now, and pondered what to do. The direction she needed to climb had been so clear, but now, nothing. Hearing a noise behind her, she turned to see Tipper grunting as he worked his way around a large tree stump. Waiting for him to catch up, Angie leaned against a tree.
“I was on to something, but now it’s disappeared.”
“Thought you might be.” Leaning over, hands on his knees, Tipper gasped in breath. “I’m not as fit as I thought I was. How do you do it?”
“No idea. Normally I wouldn’t even try, I suppose it was Henry’s support.” Looking to the few metres that would bring her to the top of The Ridge, Angie jerked her thumb. “Coming up top? We know we have to walk back towards the bus stop, I might pick something up.” Rubbing her arms, she shivered. “It’s freezing up here, that sun isn’t doing its job today.”
“I’m boiling. I was considering taking my jumper off.” Tipper had reached her and mopped his brow with the back of his hand. “I reckon you’re picking that up from Henry too. It’s not cold, Angie. Not by any stretch of the imagination.”
To his surprise Angie grinned at him.
“That’s good, it means all is not lost. Come on, this way.”
Reaching The Ridge, Angie set off along the trail Henry had followed. The furrowed footpath was deeper than it had been when Henry walked it. The sides were almost as high as her shoulder in places.
Deciding to stick to the path for safety, she called to Tipper, “I’m not going on to The Ridge unless it’s absolutely necessary. That okay with you?”
“Oh yes. Lead on.”
After only a few minutes, Angie slowed. Tipper knew better than to speak to her. He watched as she held out her arm and allowed her hand to hover just above The Ridge, occasionally brushing the ground.
After another five minutes, Angie stopped. “I have to get up. Can you give me a boost?”
Tipper looked to his right. The Ridge was no more than four feet wide. “Are you sure. I’m not happy that you’ll be safe.”
“It’s that, or this trip was pointless. If I’m right, this is where Henry stopped to see why Chelly had cried out. But I want to see if that drop is sheer on the other side.”
“Well, you don’t need to be standing for that. You can lie flat or sit on your backside.”
Smirking, Angie nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Making a stirrup with his hands, Tipper boost
ed Angie onto The Ridge.
She blew out a breath. “Bloody hell. I can’t believe they did this in the dark. It’s literally one foot wrong and over you go.” Getting onto her hands and knees, she continued her journey. “This is not comfortable. My knees are going to be shredded.
“Get back in here. You can pop out every few yards.”
Tipper looked up, when after a few more steps Angie hadn’t responded. She was moving slowly now, her hands massaging the ground as she inched forward, and he nearly had heart failure when she suddenly got to her feet and turned back to face him. Her eyes were shut, he opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut, worried he might frighten her. He hurried forward ready to grab her leg. As he drew level with her, her eyes opened and she jumped back onto the walkway.
“It was around here. I’m sure of that. I saw Chelly’s boot stuck in the mud, but I can’t pinpoint it. How long will it take to drive to that village down there?”
“Fifteen minutes or so. We’ve got to get back down first though.”
“Perfect, let’s go.”
“Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“Not really, but, and we already knew this, that’s where we’ll find our answer.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Thirty minutes later, Tipper parked outside the church, which was the nearest he could get to the edge of what was once the quarry. Ten years previously, the parish council had reclaimed some of the old quarry and made it into an adventure playground and picnic area. The sound of children playing filled the air as they exited the car.
“Wow. This is pretty. If circumstances were different, I’d bring Ryan and Lily here tomorrow.”
Despite the reason why they were there, Angie was smiling, the sound of the families having fun had lifted her spirits.
“Why’s that? Your grin is ear to ear.”
“Because I don’t want anything to ruin Lily’s day. If Henry, or maybe even Chelly made contact, then I would be distracted or worst, devastated. I’m keeping Lily as far away from this for as long as I can.”
“Like your mother did?” Tipper nudged her. “They say you women all turn into your mothers eventually.”
“Rubbish.” Angie laughed. “Can you imagine my mother ever becoming like Gran. I don’t think so. But, yes, like my mother did for me.”
“This way.” Tipper pointed to a boundary fence. “We’ll have to hop over, then I don’t know which way we should go.” Shielding his eyes from the sun, he gazed up at the ridge with no idea where he and Angie had stopped walking.
“The direction is the easy bit.” Taking his hand, Angie cleared the fence. “We keep walking with the church immediately behind us. That will narrow it down a little. Blimey we’ve got some way to go, this looked tiny from above.”
Glancing at the church steeple, Tipper frowned. “I know I’m probably being dense, but if we walked in any direction to the rock face, the church is always going to be behind us.”
Tutting, Angie wagged her finger at him. “That’s because you didn’t factor in the fire station.”
“The what?”
“The fire station, did you not spot it as we drove in? They have a training tower, although I have to admit when I was on The Ridge, I didn’t realise what it was. But the tower needs to be in line with the church. My concern at the moment is whether the tower is going to be tall enough to see from this distance.”
“You’re not just a pretty face, are you? May I suggest we line them up now, and keep looking back to check? You never know we might be in luck and find something that marks the spot.”
“Good plan.” Turning to face the way they had come, Angie could see they were way off course and she pointed to her left. “This way.”
When they were both happy that they were walking in the right direction, they increased their pace. After ten minutes or so they were approaching the rockface, and the going was getting tough as the ground beneath their feet had changed to loose rocks and rubble. A few small trees had defeated the terrain and grew haphazardly along the cliff face. Angie turned and looked towards the church, before looking towards The Ridge. She took several large steps to the left, and pointed up.
“That’s where we ended up before we came down.”
Looking up, Tipper’s nose screwed up. “How do you know, have you picked up on something?”
“Not from Henry if that’s what you mean. Look at that great clump of mistletoe.” Swinging her arm around, she explained, “Mistletoe, church . . . Henry.” Leaving her hand pointing at the ground she closed her eyes.
Impressed, Tipper left her to it, and started towards the rockface. He was surprised to hear her follow him. He paused to allow her to catch up, but she walked straight past him. The expression on her face told him that she was away with the fairies, as his nan would have said.
Angie reached the rockface and placed her hands flat against the cold stone, her head bowed. After what seemed like an eternity to Tipper, but was probably no more than ten minutes, she raised her head slowly and looked at him.
“There’s a cross.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
Hands clamped over her open mouth muffling the scream, Chelly leaned towards the edge of The Ridge and looked down. She jerked her head back, there was nothing to see, it was too dark. She knew the faint glow of light she could see would be the fire station, it was brighter than the other lights which told her the location of the village. She bellowed Henry’s name, and listened for a response. As she expected, all she heard was the wind whistling through the trees. Jumping back into the trough she put her hands on her knees and emptied the contents of her stomach.
What if he was alive?
A little calmer now, she listened again for his call for help. Nothing.
“Shit.” The first sob escaped.
Climbing onto the other side of the walkway, she began her descent. Skidding along on her backside, cursing the trees, and anything else that got in the way, it took her only minutes to reach the road. By the time she got there, she was sobbing, her hands were bloodied and her backside bruised.
She looked for her car, it wasn’t there. Her hand hit her pocket. She still had the keys, so where was the bloody car? She wiped the snot from her nose onto the sleeve of her jacket and screamed at the God she didn’t believe in. As the last of the air left her lungs and she dragged more in, she realised it would be further along the road. They hadn’t gone up to The Ridge at this point. As she ran back up the road to her car, she muttered to herself.
“Hang on, Henry. I’ll have to drive round. I won’t be long. I won’t be long.”
The boots were hindering her progress, she took them off and ran with one in each hand, her stick tucked under her arm. On reaching the car, she slung the boots and stick onto the passenger seat. Then breaking every motoring law she knew, she drove round towards the village, the old quarry, and Henry.
Abandoning her car by the fire station, she grabbed a torch and headed into the quarry using the stick to stop her stumbling over the uneven surface. Her eyes followed the weak beam from the torch as she swung it erratically back and forth in search of Henry. Her eyes saw the snow drifting down, but it didn’t register. All she wanted to do was find Henry. She gave a shout as something scurried to her left, and swung the torch towards the noise. Two eyes blinked and were gone. She guessed it was a fox.
After fifteen minutes or so, the torch in her outstretched hand hit something and she screamed, jumping away from the obstacle and ending up falling hard onto the rock and rubble beneath her feet. A pain shot up her spine and she screamed. Holding back the tears, she aimed the torch at whoever or whatever she had bumped into, squinting as she moved the beam slowly from left to right. She’d reached the rockface.
Pushing herself to her feet, and ignoring the pain that seemed to encompass her whole body, Chelly turned back to the village. The large floodlights which lit the red roller doors of the fire station were off to her right. She’d
wandered off course. Now she had a landmark, she knew which way to go. If she kept the station to her left and the rockface to her right, she’d find him. Collecting her stick, which had been thrown to one side as she fell, she set off again.
It was only a matter of minutes before she caught sight of his foot in the torchlight. Halting, she closed her eyes and drew in a breath. Her mouth opened but no sound was emitted. Opening it to try again, her stomach flipped and she retched up was left in her stomach.
Henry lay face down, his right leg at an angle to his body that shouldn’t be possible. His left arm was trapped under his torso, and his right hand looked as though it was on back to front. She couldn’t see his face, but an angry gash across the back of his head showed the white of his skull, but there was no blood. Where was the blood? Had he died before the injury was caused? Had his heart not had the ability to pump it through the opened veins? Why didn’t she know this? She should know. She took a step closer to his foot and holding her breath she tapped it with her oversized boot. There was no response from Henry.
Making a fist she thumped her forehead. Torch still in hand, its light flashed up the rockface. Of course Henry didn’t respond. Look at him.
LOOK AT HIM!
Her eyes lowered with the beam, and she watched the snow start to settle on him. Lowering her chin to her chest, she allowed the tears to return, silently apologising. When she looked up the animal eyes from earlier blinked at her again, and she threw the torch towards them. It clattered on the rocks.
“Don’t you touch him, you bastard,” she hissed. “Don’t you damage him.” Coughing a laugh through her tears, she wondered if more damage was possible. The torch had settled between two fist-sized rocks and illuminated the side of Henry’s body. There was only one thing she could do to help him now, and that was to protect him from whatever creature owned those eyes.
Using the seat of the stick as a shovel, she scooped up a small load and threw it over Henry. It took over half an hour to cover his body enough that she was satisfied he was safe. Retrieving the torch, she shone it around the mound to check the job was good enough.