Blood Bought

by Robin Roughley

  'Wait,' he said as his eyes continued to peer out at the house.

  Suzanne snapped her head around. 'Lasser, we need to get in there and…'

  He placed a finger to his lips and Suzanne fell silent.

  Then he hit the horn, the sound braying out into the night.

  'Lasser, is that you?' Medea asked, her voice still crammed with fear.

  Lifting his hand from the horn the noise stopped. 'We're here, Med, just stay exactly where you are.'

  'But…'

  'We need to make sure the bastard's not waiting for us to get out the car,' he explained.

  Suzanne looked closely at him, she could see the battle raging in his eyes and she knew that if he had been here alone then he would have been out of the car in an instant.

  The fact was he was concerned about her, unsure what to do.

  'Lasser, Medea needs our help, we can't just leave her in there with the baby.'

  He glanced at her before pushing the door open and stepping out, his body tense ready to spring into violence should the need arise.

  Suzanne waited and then he looked quickly into the car.

  'Come on, but stay close to me,' he said as she climbed out and headed around the car.

  Pulling the keys from the ignition, he left the headlights on and took hold of Suzanne's elbow and walked towards the house, caught in the twin beams of light.

  Reaching the front door, he released her arm and suddenly rushed forwards, slamming his foot into the timber.

  'What are you doing!?' Suzanne demanded.

  He tried again, this time the door crashed inwards and Lasser stormed into the hallway before cutting right into the huge lounge.

  His eyes flicked around the room – missing nothing – and then he headed for the stairs with Suzanne right behind him, her breathing rapid and shallow, the fear crawling over her skin.

  Reaching the top, he paused, his hands locked into fists. 'Med, where are you?' he shouted.

  When the bathroom door opened, he breathed out a thin sigh of relief, she had the baby in her arms, her cheeks wet with tears, her eyes haunted as the small dog dashed around her feet.

  Lasser felt Suzanne brush past him and he snatched at her sleeve.

  'You lock yourselves in, ring Alan and tell him everything that's happened.'

  'But what about you?' she asked.

  'I'm going to take a look around, but I need to know you are all safe before I do.'

  Looking into his eyes, she could see the anger was still there but now it was mixed with heartache and she nodded before moving away from him.

  Lasser watched as she walked into the bathroom and then Medea looked at him as Suzanne explained what was happening.

  As the door closed he tried to give Medea a reassuring smile but gave up as he realised he would never manage to pull it off.

  56

  Stokes drove down the narrow lane, his eyes flicking nervously at the wing mirror. Rounding the corner, he turned on the headlights before pressing down on the gas pedal, the engine rattled, the squealing wipers trying to get rid of the rain that fell from the cloud-filled darkness. He had been so close to getting the bitch and yet she'd had the sense to use her phone to call for help. When the threat had come blasting through the door, Stokes had felt the old twist of fear in his guts as he recognised the owner of the voice.

  'Lasser,' he spat the word out and with it came the hatred.

  According to Medea's old next-door neighbour she now lived with some writer and yet Lasser had been the one she had called.

  The bend shot out of the darkness, he drew in a sharp, panicked breath and hit the brakes, the car slid slightly but he managed to make it around in one piece, his arse twitching in fear.

  The road straightened out, but the fear remained as he realised that Lasser could very well have put in a call for help. Suddenly, he pictured a convoy of police cars all heading out to the barn conversion. He knew that roads leading to the house were limited and if they came this way then no doubt they would pull the solitary car over and question him about what he was doing in the middle of nowhere late at night. While one copper interrogated him the other would run a check on his registration, and even if they let him go he knew that eventually Lasser would learn about the car they had pulled over and he would come calling at his house and then…

  'Fucking bastard!' he thumped the steering wheel as he realised that the danger was still evident.

  He tried to lift his gaze to see if there were any headlights bearing down from the darkened horizon, but the road started to twist and turn again, blocking his view.

  With every second that passed, the fear multiplied as he realised he could be dashing towards disaster rather than escaping it.

  Glancing in the mirror again, his eyes sprang wide when he realised he was driving along the deserted road still wearing the mask.

  With a gasp of terror, he snatched it from his head, his face glistening with sweat, his skin bleached of colour.

  When the junction appeared, he came to a halt, the car juddering, tyres fighting for grip on the leaf-slick road. Glancing left and right, his heart thudding, he tried to decide which way to go. When he spotted the flicker of blue way over to the right he yelped, spun the wheel left, then reached down and flicked off the lights. Darkness swooped in, he leaned forward, desperately trying to see where he was going. When the small road appeared on the right he made a snap decision and turned down it, his hands locked on the steering wheel, his right foot pressed on the brake. He glanced in the mirror and gasped as he saw the red tail lights reflected on the dry-stone wall. Yanking on the handbrake, he lifted his foot saying a silent prayer in an effort to keep the fear at bay.

  Glancing to the right, the terror clambered through his mind as he saw the sky beyond the dry-stone wall illuminated with blue.

  'Please, no,' he feverishly whispered.

  When he heard the wail of the siren, his heart juddered.

  Then, miraculously, the sound and the light began to diminish, Adam Stokes let out an anguished stream of pent-up air from his punished lungs.

  He waited for five minutes, afraid to risk backing out of his hiding place in case another police car appeared out of the darkness.

  In the end, he knew he would have to move but it took more courage than he would ever have realised to back the car up.

  Balls tight with fear, he slid the gear lever into first and drove away, his body drenched with sweat, his mind clattering like the battered engine beneath the dented bonnet.

  57

  Bannister stood in the kitchen with Lasser, the large, white, rockery stone had cracked one of the tiles, and broken glass from the window lay scattered across the floor. Wind blew through the gap, the view beyond mottled with shadows, but for once the rain had stopped.

  'Even when you're suspended you can't stay out of trouble,' Bannister said with a heavy sigh.

  Lasser slipped his hands into his pockets in an effort to stop the need for a cigarette.

  'I take it you've checked the place out?'

  Lasser nodded. 'Yeah, but whoever it was is long gone.'

  'Animal,' the DCI hissed. 'I mean, what sort of prick would even consider attacking a woman let alone one with a baby?'

  Lasser didn't answer, instead he walked to the back door and turned the key, stepping outside into the wind and rain. Bannister watched him pull out the cigarettes and light one before vanishing from view.

  For a couple of seconds, he thought about following but then he turned and walked into the open-plan lounge.

  Suzanne was sitting on the sofa with a protective arm around Medea's shoulders.

  Bannister moved to the chair and sat down. 'You OK?'

  Medea looked up at him with shock-filled eyes, the baby fast asleep in her arms. 'Where's Lasser?'

  'Taking a look out the back,' he lied.

  Suzanne raised an eyebrow and Bannister gave a small shake of his head.

  'I know this is hard, Medea, but anyt
hing you can tell us about this man could prove vital.'

  Wiping the tears from her eyes, she sniffed back more tears before looking down at her daughter as if to make sure she was OK. 'I only caught a glimpse of him, he just sprang up at the back window and then the rock came crashing in and I ran.'

  Bannister nodded in understanding. 'Can you remember what he was wearing?'

  Medea closed her eyes and more tears were squeezed free. 'I couldn't see his face, he was wearing a ski mask, but I think he had on a dark sweatshirt and black combat pants…' her voice trailed off in despair as she failed to recall any more detail.

  'It's OK, Med, it's over now,' Suzanne said as she gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

  'Where's Patrick?' Bannister asked.

  Medea drew her shoulders in. 'He had to go to London this morning on business, he won't be back until tomorrow.'

  'Right, well you can't stay here tonight, you'll come back to our place,' Suzanne said.

  Medea looked at her and nodded in thanks.

  'Have you seen anyone hanging about the place?' Bannister enquired.

  'No. The house is well off the beaten track, so you can go days without seeing anyone and even then, it's normally only a tractor going by.'

  'Right, like Suzanne said you and the baby can stay at ours tonight and we'll get that window and front door sorted for you.'

  Medea managed to drag up a tearful smile. 'Is it OK to bring T?'

  Bannister smiled as he looked at the dog asleep by her side. 'Of course it is.'

  'Right, we'll start packing,' Suzanne said as she pushed to her feet.

  'Is it OK if I have a word with Lasser before we go?' Medea asked.

  Bannister ran a hand across his short hair. 'Like I said, he's out the back but knowing him he could be half a field away looking for the bugger.'

  'I promise not to go wandering off, but I need to see him.'

  Bannister opened his mouth but before he could say anything Medea handed the baby to him.

  'That's fine, Med, we'll wait here for you,' Suzanne said with a smile as Bannister looked flustered.

  Standing up, Medea walked across the room just as headlights flared at the front window. Turning, Bannister watched Odette climb from the car, her hair blowing in the wind. Half a minute later she walked into the room, her face etched with concern.

  'How's Medea?' she asked, sliding the zip down on her jacket, her eyes wide as she saw the DCI with the baby in his arms.

  Bannister flicked a nod over his shoulder. 'She's out back looking for Lasser.'

  Odette glanced towards the kitchen before sliding her hair behind her ear. 'Is she OK?'

  'Well, she's shook up that's for sure so she's going to stay at our house till tomorrow. Patrick's in London and it's not safe here.'

  Odette nodded and smiled at Suzanne.

  'Any luck catching the guy?' she asked.

  'Looks like the bugger's long gone,' Bannister replied with a dark scowl as he tentatively rocked Ella back and forth in his arms.

  Odette slipped her hands into her pockets. 'It sounds as if she was lucky.'

  'Lucky?' Suzanne asked with a frown.

  Odette sighed. 'That came out wrong but we all know things could have been a lot worse.'

  The three of them fell silent, each conjuring images that made their blood run cold.

  58

  Lasser stood under the skeletal wind-blown branches of the plum tree; with dark eyes straining to peer out into the night he took another pull on the cigarette, the smoke instantly shredded by the wind.

  Flicking the stump to the ground, he watched as the sparks flared briefly before being extinguished by the sodden grass.

  'You'll catch a cold out here.'

  He turned to find Medea standing three feet away, dressed in a long waterproof jacket, her dark hair hidden beneath the hood.

  'You OK?' he asked.

  She stepped forward hesitantly, and he saw all the fear and distress in her eyes.

  When she was a foot away he opened his arms and she collapsed into him, crying, her face buried against his chest.

  The wind blew her familiar scent into his face making him remember the yearning that he had carried with him for so long after they had separated.

  'I'm sorry,' her voice came out in a cracked groan of anguish.

  'You have nothing to be sorry for, I'm just glad you rang, and we could get here before…'

  He felt her ease away slightly and then she looked up at him, her dark eyes still shining with tears.

  'I'm sorry for everything, for leaving you the way I did and for not telling you about Patrick or the fact I was pregnant and…'

  Reaching down, he brushed the tears from her cheeks with his fingertips. 'Look, Med, I don't blame you in the slightest, I never have, I'm happy for you, happy you have Ella, who is beautiful just like her mother.'

  'But…'

  'I was the one at fault, I let the job take over as usual and you had every right to expect more from me. I mean, I was hardly ever home, and you were left to sit in an empty house and that's not what you signed up for. The main thing now is that you're happy. I will admit for a while I wanted to throttle Patrick, but the truth is he's a good guy, and you two have a great life ahead of you.'

  Medea kept her eyes locked on his, her heart aching at the loss, Lasser was right Patrick did make her happy and the fact that they now had a baby daughter was thrilling, but somewhere deep down she knew she would always love the man who stood before her.

  Lasser looked over her shoulder to see Odette framed in the kitchen doorway, she raised a hand in acknowledgement before turning and disappearing from sight.

  Medea stepped away from him and his arms fell to his sides.

  'We're staying at Suzanne's place tonight and I think she wants to head home, so I'd better go and pack and get Ella and T ready,' she explained.

  'Good idea.'

  She smiled sadly. 'Thanks for everything, Lasser,' she said, turning away and walking back towards the house.

  He watched her go with a heavy heart and yet the acute sense of loss was no longer there.

  Taking a deep breath, he lit another cigarette.

  59

  Yawning, Lasser stretched under the duvet, wincing at the bruising on his body; he eased the cover back and tentatively swung his legs round and sat on the edge of the bed.

  It had gone two o'clock by the time Odette had dropped him at home and he had fallen into bed feeling drained.

  But now, the smell of cooking bacon wafted under the bedroom door and he felt his stomach rumble in anticipation. Reaching over, he lifted his phone from the bedside cabinet and tapped the screen, his face falling when he saw there were no missed calls or texts, then suddenly he remembered that he was suspended, out of the loop, obsolete.

  Rubbing at his bristled chin he lifted out some sweatpants and T-shirt from the wardrobe and went to the bathroom for a quick wash before heading downstairs, the phone in his back pocket.

  Karen was just in the process of slicing the bacon sandwiches in two, she looked up and smiled before holding the plate out.

  'I put brown sauce on, I know you like it.'

  Lasser smiled, clutching the plate he took a bite and sat down at the table.

  For once the rain had stopped, though the bush in the back garden was still being blown about by the wind.

  'It must have been late when you got in.'

  Lasser nodded and swallowed the food, 'It was,' he agreed, licking a blob of brown sauce from his finger.

  'Well, at least they can't drag you out at all hours for once.'

  'Every cloud has a silver lining,' Lasser said and took another bite.

  Karen leaned back against the sink, coffee cup in hand. 'Even when I lived on the streets I tried to look on the bright side of things.'

  'Is there a bright side to living rough?' he asked with genuine interest.

  She looked at him over the rim of the cup. 'Most of the time it was hell,
but you soon learned the places and people to avoid.'

  'The dickheads?'

  'Yeah, I knew a guy and we kind of stuck together, but it turned out he was a twisted sod.'

  Lasser paused with the sandwich halfway to his mouth. 'How do you mean?'

  Karen placed the cup on the worktop and folded her arms. 'I knew him before things went bad for me, he used to be a decent guy, but he ended up living rough and he changed.'

  'You thought you could trust him?'

  'I suppose I just wanted to feel safe, it turned out he was possessive but spineless with it.'

  'Spineless?'

  She looked at the floor for a moment, her hair swinging down from her shoulders. 'When you live on the street – especially if you're a female – then you try and find someone who will help to keep you safe. I thought John was that guy, oh he talked the talk, but the truth was he would always back off if there was any risk of him getting a good hiding.'

  'That must have been hard for you?'

  She sighed heavily, her eyes suddenly full of remembered pain. 'If another guy confronted him then he would clam up while they pushed him around, but as soon as they were gone he'd take his frustrations out on me.'

  Lasser placed the remains of the sandwich on the plate, his appetite vanishing. 'He used you as a punch bag because of his inadequacies?'

  This time she nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

  'What happened to the guy?'

  'Oh, he's still out there somewhere, but the booze got him – big time – and in the end he would spend days completely out of it. The last time I saw him he didn't even know who I was.'

  Easing back in the chair, Lasser pulled out the cigarettes and lit one before sliding the ashtray nearer.

  'Well, at least you're out of it now.'

  'Thanks to you.'

  Lasser tapped the ash and shrugged. 'We help one another.'

  When his phone rang, he lifted it from his back pocket and checked the number, Karen saw a cautious look flit into his eyes as he tapped the screen.