The diagnosis for Fiona was taking a lot longer. Her breathing had become shallow again, and although conscious, Hunter could see she wasn’t all there. What was more worrying was seeing how anxious she had become. Laid back on a couch, she had become agitated, her legs thrashing at the sheet covering her. Beth was holding her hand, trying to calm her, telling her to take deep breaths.
Doctor Grayson trotted out of the room, but was only gone a few minutes. He wheeled in some equipment on a trolley. “Fiona, I’m going to check out your heart on this ECG machine,” he said, pushing the trolley up against her bed and plugging it in. “It’s nothing to worry about. It just shows me how your heart is working.” He started sticking discs to her chest.
Hunter knew this was going to take some time and so slipped out of the centre to join Budgie, who was just finishing a call on his mobile.
Turning to Hunter, he said, “My Deputy is at your cottage with one of our Specials. They’re just having a good look around the place to see if they can see anything. See if any evidence has been left behind. It’s going to be difficult because of the darkness, but they’re giving it a go. Now, are you sure you didn’t see the person who hit you?”
Hunter shook his head. “No, it was too dark. They blindsided me. I don’t even know what I was hit with. All I remember is hearing a noise outside and opening the door and then whack.” He took in a deep breath. “I don’t think it was Billy, though.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I think if it had been Billy who’d attacked me, I wouldn’t just have a cut above my eye, and he would have attacked my dad as well, while I was unconscious.” Hunter told Budgie about the phone call, the video message Billy had sent hours earlier, and the discovery of the strangled cat. Then he told him about the straggly-haired man he’d seen at the Bel Air Inn and the barman at The Stocks.
“I know the manager of The Stocks. I’ll check out the barman myself tomorrow. And the Bel Air has got a good CCTV system, which covers the courtyard, so we should be in luck. I’ll give them a call first thing, and if you feel okay we’ll pay it a visit and have a scan through yesterday’s footage, and you can point out the guy you saw. I’ll see if he’s one of our residents. If not, I’ll get his picture printed off and circulate it to my team. It shouldn’t take us long to trace him if he’s staying on the island. And for now, I’ve organised for extra locks to be fitted on your doors and windows. One of the Specials runs the DIY shop on the island. He’ll have it done in a couple of hours. It’ll not stop anyone from getting in who’s determined, but it will give you time to react. And you’ll just happen to find a couple of baseball bats waiting for you when you get back. If anyone asks, they’ve been left there for your lads to play with — know what I mean?”
Eyeing the mischievous smile spreading across Budgie’s mouth, Hunter nodded. The more he was getting to know Budgie, the more he was admiring him. This was coppering straight out Barry Newstead’s book.
“And now, I’m going to get over to your cottage and see if anything’s been found. I’ll hang on there until you get back.”
Hunter nodded again. “Thanks Budgie. I really appreciate this. I’m going to see how my mum is doing. As soon as I know she’s okay, I’ll join you.”
When Hunter returned back inside the centre, Fiona was sitting up, the rosiness returned to her complexion. Beth and Jock were still at her bedside. There was no sign of Doctor Grayson.
“Where’s the doctor?” Hunter asked.
“In the back,” Beth replied. “He’s just putting the ECG machine away.”
“Is she okay?” He looked to Beth.
Beth brushed loose white hair away from Fiona’s face. “Doc says it was a panic attack and nothing to do with her heart. No lasting damage. She’s just got to take it easy for a day or two —” Beth turned to Hunter’s mother, squeezing her hand — “haven’t you, Fiona?”
Hunter switched his attention to his mum. “You gave me quite a scare there, Mum.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sitting in the back of Doctor Grayson’s trailer, Hunter reflected on the events of the past few hours. Everything seemed so surreal, and yet the most surreal event of all was happening right now — the doctor giving them a lift back to the cottage in a trailer towed by a tractor. If things weren’t so serious, he’d be laughing at the spectacle of it all. He was sure that in several weeks, when he shared the experience with his colleagues back at work, it would produce more than a few chuckles.
Dropping them off at the cottage gate, the doctor told them he’d see them at the centre tomorrow for a check-up and then bid them good morning. Turning his tractor around, he trundled back up the lane.
Although there was no sign of life outside the cottage, all the downstairs lights were on inside, and Hunter led the way up the path to the door, turning the handle slowly, calling out, “Hello,” as he pushed it open. Suddenly, he was on edge.
Inside the cottage, Budgie was waiting for them, sitting in an armchair holding an empty mug. He had a startled look on his face, and Hunter guessed from the tired look in the cop’s eyes that they had just woken him from a doze.
Pushing himself up straight, stretching out his back, Budgie said, “I made myself a brew while I was waiting. I hope you don’t mind?”
Hunter held up a hand and shook his head.
“I’ve sent my Deputy and Special off home. They’ve had a good hunt round, but they’ve not found anything evidence-wise. It’s not helped by how dark it is, so they’re going to return around lunchtime and put in a good search. You can help if you want. It would be much appreciated, or I can ask for some support from CID across on Guernsey?”
“To be honest, Budgie, I don’t know if they’d be able to do any more than what’s already been done.”
“That’s a reassuring comment coming from a detective.”
“I mean it, Budgie. They couldn’t do any more.”
“Well, I’ll be putting in a report to the duty Inspector across on Guernsey tomorrow, and I’ll see what response I get. And as for now, I’m done here. I’m going to disappear and leave you all in peace. After the night you’ve just had, I’m guessing all you all want is to get your heads down. When you get up and sorted, give me a call, and we’ll go to the Bel Air and go through the CCTV. You can point out the man who you think was watching you. I’m going to speak with the manager of The Stocks Hotel later this morning about the barman.”
“Thanks, Budgie, that’s much appreciated.”
The Constable glanced at his watch as he made for the door. “Ten past four. It’s a long time since I’ve been up at this time. I haven’t dealt with anything like this before. You’ll be the talk of the island tomorrow.”
“And there I was hoping to keep a low profile.”
Budgie forced a laugh. “Not anymore, I’m afraid, but that might not be a bad thing. Everyone will be on alert now.” Setting down his cup, he headed for the door, waiting for a second before pulling it open, as if unsure what he would be facing. It was still pitch-black outside, and he stood on the doorstep scouring the garden. After a few more seconds, he turned and skipped his gaze around. “Right, I’ll catch up with you all later,” he said, stepping into the night and closing the door after him.
Hunter turned the key in the lock and set the two newly fitted deadbolts, eyeing the craftsmanship. Budgie had done them proud. The professional manner in which the island cop had handled his attack made him mentally check himself to go that extra mile in future when a similar situation arose back on his own turf. He turned, switching his gaze between Fiona, Jock and Beth. They looked weary, and yet none of them were making any moves to go to bed.
“I don’t know about you, but I could do with a drink after that,” Hunter said.
They simply nodded their heads. Fiona pulled out a chair from the dining table and dropped down onto it, dispensing a weight-of-the-world sigh. Jock placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and flashed Hunter a guilt-ridden, apologetic
look. Hunter thought for a moment that his dad was going to burst into tears, and feeling embarrassed, he averted his eyes. For several seconds, a heavy silence descended. He didn’t like to see his dad like this. He had never felt such a sense of powerlessness before. Normally, he would have a situation like this under control, and the fact that he didn’t worried him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Hunter looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, running a hand over his unshaven jaw, while brushing his teeth. Dark rings rimmed his eyes. Not surprising. He hadn’t slept, despite the two generous slugs of whisky he’d downed as a nightcap. Every slight noise, both inside and outside the cottage, had jerked him alert. He’d got up twice and looked out of the window, even when he wasn’t sure if he had heard anything or not. Now he felt drained, and his head was a twisted mess. He couldn’t wait to catch up with Budgie and view the CCTV footage from the Bel Air. Hopefully, the cop would be able to identify the man he thought was watching him and resolve at least one of his problems.
Finishing brushing his teeth, Hunter fixed his sight upon the Steri-Stripped cut above his eye, tapping the swollen area. He winced. Boy, that hurt. Right now, he wished he was in his father’s gym. He could just go several rounds with a sparring partner to punch out the anger and frustration overwhelming him. Putting aside his toothbrush, he recalled the sad look his father had given him only a few hours earlier. He felt like shedding a tear himself.
Downstairs, everyone was up. Beth was on her mobile, and Hunter could make out she was talking with her mum and dad, making arrangements to pick up Jonathan and Daniel. Fiona was making a hot drink and Jock was in the conservatory.
Hunter sidled up to his mum. “You okay?”
Fiona nodded meekly. “Aye, son. Are you?” She looked at the cut over his eye.
“Sure. In a couple of weeks, you’ll hardly notice anything.”
She handed him two mugs of tea. “Take one through to your da; he’s feeling sorry for himself. I’ll make us all some breakfast before we pick up the boys.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Course. Stop fussing. I had a panic attack, that’s all. You heard what the doctor said. Now away with you, and leave me be.”
Manufacturing a grin, Hunter patted her hand, picked up the two steaming mugs of tea, and ambled through the lounge and into the conservatory. His dad was on one of the sofas, looking out over the garden. Hunter handed him a mug.
Jock looked over. “Do you think we should leave?”
“Why?” Hunter countered.
“Because of what happened last night.”
“If you’re thinking that was Billy, you’re wrong. If it had been him, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation. That was someone else trying to scare us.”
“But it was still someone capable of doing us harm.”
Hunter studied his dad’s face for a few fleeting seconds before replying. “Look, I’m onto this.” He dropped his voice, glancing in the direction of Beth and Fiona before returning his gaze. “I didn’t mention this to you, because I didn’t want to worry anyone, but yesterday afternoon, when me and Beth were at the Bel Air, I think I saw a bloke watching me, and I’m going with Budgie later to look at the CCTV there and see if he knows who it is. If he knows him, Budgie and I are going to have words with him and see what he was up to. If he doesn’t know him, he’s going to plaster his face all over the island and track him down. Either way, it’ll be sorted. And as for Billy, my boss is onto it. If he tries to leave the UK, then he’ll be picked up at passport control. Things are covered, Dad. And think about this — where will we go if we do leave here? We can’t go home; Billy knows where we live. We’d be in far greater danger if we went back. No, we just sit tight until Billy is caught. Hopefully, it won’t be too long.”
Nodding, Jock broke away his eyes and sipped his drink.
As Hunter watched his dad looking back over the garden, in his thoughts, he re-ran the words he had just spoken. The voice of reason inside his head was attempting to qualify that what he had just said was the right thing, and yet another part of his conscience was saying that while he might be trying to convince his dad, his experience told him he certainly wasn’t convincing himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Hunter, Budgie, and Mick Woods were sat in the back room of the Bel Air Inn, hunkered over a monitor and CCTV player, the landlord whizzing through feed from the previous day.
“What time was it roughly?” Mick said, his eyes not moving from the screen.
Zipping across the screen was footage from eight different cameras, inside and outside the pub, and Hunter was having difficulty monitoring every section, though in the bottom left-hand corner he saw that they were just coming up to the 2 p.m. mark. “It’d have been between quarter past and half past two when we got here. I first noticed him about ten minutes after I’d sat down with the drinks.”
Thirty seconds later, Mick paused the footage and pointed at a segment of film in the top right-hand corner. “Well, that’s you and your wife just arriving.”
Hunter noted the time as 14:23. He had been spot-on with his timing.
The landlord let the footage run at its normal speed, and Hunter’s eyes darted from one portion of footage to another, following the recorded image of himself and Beth choosing a bench in the courtyard, then him buying their drinks and chatting with Mick, to the point where he handed Beth her cider and took his seat. At this stage, Hunter noted that the bench where he had seen the straggly-haired man seated was empty.
Mick again speeded up the film, freezing the image less than a minute later and arrowing his finger at one of the sectors at the top of the screen. “This your guy?”
“That’s him,” Hunter replied, leaning in to get a close-up view of the man who he had been convinced had been watching Beth and himself. At the point where he had freeze-framed the image, the stranger had his chin tucked into his chest, looking down, but he recognised him from his hairstyle. He saw that the man was wearing a black, padded, weather-proof jacket, jeans and hiking boots.
Mick returned to playing the film at normal speed, and all three sets of eyes followed the straggly-haired man coming into the pub, ordering a pint of lager, and then moving outside and taking up the seat at the bench where Hunter had noticed him.
Hunter was now leaning in closer, gripped by the presence of the stranger seemingly hunched over his drink and focused only on that. The resolution of the footage was crisp and clear. Perfect. “Do you know him?” he asked, turning to Budgie.
Budgie shook his head. “He’s definitely not one of the residents. I’ve never seen him before.”
Mick responded, “Yesterday was the first time I’ve seen him as well. I just thought he’d come for drink before he got the ferry back to Guernsey. He only had the one lager and never came back into the pub. I assumed he had gone down to the harbour.”
Hunter continued watching the fragment of CCTV showing the stranger. Most of the time the man had his head down, sipping occasionally at his lager. A couple of times he lifted his head, and although you couldn’t tell on screen, Hunter knew the man’s gaze was aimed in his and Beth’s direction. On the third occasion he lifted his head, Hunter said, “Freeze it there.”
The landlord did as he was asked, and the three of them centred on the man staring across the courtyard.
“Can you zoom in on that frame?”
Mick clicked on one of the buttons and the section with the recording of the straggly-haired stranger took up the entire screen. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the image. The man’s face was in profile, and Hunter got his first clear glimpse of him. He couldn’t make out the colour of his eyes because they were in shadow, but he concentrated on the pinched features, long thin nose and his sharp jawline peppered with several days’ worth of stubble. He reminded Hunter of someone who used drugs. He had seen so many of similar appearance from his Drug Squad days, and yet he didn’t have that vacant look of a druggie. He seemed so muc
h more alert, as if he was using his appearance as cover to fool. Hunter held that thought.
“Definitely don’t know him. And never seen him before,” announced Budgie. He took out his mobile and snapped a shot of the frozen image. Checking that the photo was good, he showed it to Hunter. “I’ll send this to all my Specials, and I’ll email it to all our hotels and B&B places, and the food-store. As you know, there’s a lot of people on the island at the moment because of the festival, but I’d say he’s the kind of guy who would stand out, wouldn’t you? If he’s staying here, I’ll soon find out.”
Hunter thanked him and said, “On another note, did you manage to speak with the manager of The Stocks?”
“I rang him just before I came here. Told me that the young man’s name was Ian McDonald. He’s twenty-one and comes from Musselburgh near Edinburgh.”
“He told me that’s where he was from when I chatted with him last night,” interjected Hunter.
“The manager took Ian on five weeks ago, and he has no credentials as such, because he was hired just to do bar work. But, he says, Ian’s a good worker and has given them no cause for concern. I’ve done a check on the details I’ve been given, and nothing comes back on the young man. The manager says he’s staying in staff accommodation, so he’s going to keep an eye on him for us.”
Hunter acknowledged this with a nod.
Detective Superintendent Dawn Leggate was at her desk, scrolling through her emails, when her BlackBerry rang, making her jump. That’ll be Hunter, she thought to herself, picking it up. He hadn’t checked in yesterday when he should have done. I’ll give him a flea in his ear. But when she viewed the screen, she saw it wasn’t Hunter, it was Detective Sergeant John Reed. She answered.
Hunted: A psychotic killer is out for revenge... (THE DS HUNTER KERR INVESTIGATIONS Book 6) Page 12
