Stephen straightened his shoulders. “You’re right. We’re doing it for her, and for her parents.”
“Exactly,” I said, proud of him for having the strength to work it through, and admiring of his selflessness. If I’d had a partner and kids at home, I wasn’t sure that I could be as brave as he could. “Let’s get this done, okay?”
He nodded. “We’ve got this.”
The drive over to the location, which involved a convoy of police vans driving one after the other, was tense. But it was tense with a sense of expectancy, and whilst there was fear too, I knew, there was a rigid determination in the eyes of every officer there.
I strapped myself into my bulletproof vest as we got closer and Stephen helped me tighten it up, before I returned the favour. The Leeds lot were much slicker at it than we were and it was evident that they’d done this sort of thing time after time. I couldn’t imagine how they managed it, knowing that they were risking their lives every time they went to work, but some people saw my job as too dangerous and I’d just gotten used to it. Perhaps after a while, you stopped being so sensitive to the danger.
I wasn’t used to it, though, and my heart was hammering as we got out of the vans. The vans had parked up at a dip in the landscape where we wouldn’t be visible from the kidnapper’s position. The sun had almost set as we’d be driving deeper into the Dales and it hovered above the horizon now like it was hanging onto the last of the light, reluctant to let it go.
The final preparations were made as the sun finally dropped away behind the hills, Gaskell moving hurriedly around as he ensured that everything was set up how we’d planned and everyone was aware of the plan.
“Mitchell?” he asked, coming to stand in front of me. His eyes were wide and focused with urgency. “You’re good?”
I gave an affirmative nod. My hand was resting on the hard, unfamiliar surface of the bulletproof vest strapped onto my chest. I fancied that I could feel the thudding of my heart through the thick material.
“I’m good,” I confirmed.
“We’ll get them,” Gaskell said, his brows folded into a determined frown. I hoped to hell that he was right, and that my previous misgivings had been nothing but anxiety.
The time came, and we made our move. Gaskell and I had decided the best strategy was to approach from the front, with only a minimum of officers securing the back. There was an area of marshy land behind the farm complex that meant if any of the gang ran out of the back, they wouldn’t get very far before they got bogged down in the wet earth.
The armed team moved first, leading the way forwards. The house was lit up in the upper two windows, but I couldn’t see anyone moving around. I looked over at Stephen as we all made our way carefully and quietly across the uneven ground. Gaskell and a few others had kept back, staying in touch by radio rather than being on the ground, but I couldn’t have let the team go ahead without me, not when it had information that I’d supplied and a plan I’d helped to craft.
Everything seemed quiet as we got close, too quiet.
They’ll be having a party, Wooding had told me. This wasn’t a place having a party; there was no movement, no music.
“Something’s wrong,” I hissed to Stephen.
He looked over at me sharply. The moon was partially hidden behind the clouds. I could barely make out Stephen’s face, but I could see the gleam of his eyes.
“What?” he whispered.
“Something’s wrong,” I insisted. I pulled out my radio, struggling for a second to unlatch it from my belt, and put it to my mouth, only for the first crack of a gun going off.
The flare had been from the house, not our side and I swore, lunging sideways to grab Stephen’s coat.
“Get down!” I yelled at him, yanking him towards the ground. I pressed the button on the radio. “There’s something wrong,” I spat out. “There’s no party. This is a set-up.”
Gaskell started to respond, but the deafening sound of more gunshots drowned him out, and I flinched. Between the explosive bangs, I could hear the shouts of the Leeds guys coordinating themselves, my own ringing ears, and Stephen’s uneven breathing where he was lying prone on my left.
Two sides of me warred briefly with each other, the self-protecting part of me wanting to burrow deeper into the ground, or retreat, whilst the part of me that had driven me into the police force loathed my staying hidden whilst the Leeds team risked their lives.
But they’d been very clear, when they’d been running through worse case scenarios, about how untrained officers like me would only get in the way if we barged into the middle of a firefight. We’d been brought along for added numbers to help deal with a large gang, if it turned out that there were a lot of them, but they were the ones who’d been brought in to deal with armed criminals. So Stephen and I, along with the rest of the York officers, stayed down as the armed unit did their job.
“They were forewarned,” Stephen said, his voice low, harsh, and clipped with tense anger. “They knew-”
“I know, Steph,” I said shortly. “We’ll work it out when this is over.”
My radio crackled in my hand, and I looked down at it, though I couldn’t really see it in the darkness. The voice of the head of the Leeds officers’ came through the speaker, telling them to back off. Gaskell came through a moment later, telling the York lot to do the same.
Stephen and I lifted ourselves up to our hands and knees and then into a low crouch. Gunshots were still ringing out, and my heart thumped in my chest as we made our way back towards the vans.
The radios crackled again, an almost inaudible shout coming through. It was exactly what we didn’t want to hear: “Officer down!”
Stephen cursed beside me, and I stopped, turning back towards the house, but I couldn’t make out much of anything. The vans, well out of range of the gang’s guns, had their headlights on and that was the brightest light in the area.
“Darren!” Stephen snapped, reaching out to grab my arm. “We can’t do anything! Come on. We can’t stay here.”
I let him tow me back towards the vans, feeling hollowed out with worry for the officer who’d been shot. Gaskell had briefed the nearest hospital about what we were doing tonight, and one of their ambulances would already be screaming its way over here, its siren wailing. I could only hope that it would be fast enough.
Back at the vans, I pulled away from Stephen and jogged towards Gaskell.
“What’s happening?” I demanded.
He was on the radio and glanced at me before continuing what he was saying, to the ambulance crew, I guessed. Once he was done, he turned to me, his face crumpled in exhaustion and worry. “One officer down, another with a graze,” he told me grimly. “We didn’t expect this kind of kick-back. We think they’ve got five guns on the property.”
I swore quietly. Officers were coming towards us in ones and twos. The woman who’d been grazed by a bullet was already at the van, leaning against it as a first aider put pressure on her arm. Her face was grey with shock. Looking at her made me think how lucky she was that the bullet hadn’t hit her thirty centimetres to the left.
The other officer hadn’t returned yet, but Gaskell tersely informed me that he was being carried over and he’d be with us soon.
“Shot in the shoulder,” Stephen said as he came over from talking to a couple of Leeds officers. “Hit an artery.”
I pressed a hand to my face and took a shaky breath. I told myself that this had been a joint decision, and everybody here had been aware of the risks, but it didn’t make it easier to bear.
To my relief, it wasn’t long before the ambulance came blazing up the road, its lights on but the siren off. I watched, feeling vaguely sickly, as the Leeds officer was loaded onboard and the ambulance took off back towards the hospital.
Stephen reached over to squeeze my shoulder. “They’ll do everything they can.”
“I know,” I said, and hoped that that would be enough.
The house had gone silent
as we sorted out our wounded and gathered ourselves. The Leeds officers were still on alert and had reloaded their weapons, positioning themselves in front of the rest of us. Considering what they’d just seen happen to two of their colleagues, I was in awe of their bravery.
Gaskell had talked to the Leeds team leader, and now he started giving instructions. Non-essential personnel were to return to their stations for debriefing, whilst a core team would remain here to watch the house overnight, rotating in shifts.
“You two,” Gaskell said, approaching us. “Head off home. You’ll be needed to do shifts here tomorrow, most likely, so get some sleep, understood?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good lad.” He patted my shoulder in an uncharacteristic show of fondness before he moved away again.
We clambered up into the van that was bound for York. Stephen and I sat side by side in silence. The whole van was quiet with exhaustion that wasn’t physical, and it wasn’t until we’d made at least half of the journey that people began to talk quietly.
I roused myself sluggishly. “Help me with this?”
Stephen turned in his seat to help me out of the body armour, and then I pulled off the velcro straps of his.
“That feels better,” he said, rubbing his side. “Like wearing a corset, that thing.”
Perhaps because I was overtired and overwrought, a laugh bubbled out of me. “You’d know all about that,” I said.
Stephen looked at me with an expression of surprise, either at what I’d said or the fact that I was even attempting to joke. I wasn’t sure where it had come from either, other than the relief of the ordeal being over.
“I’ll have you know, I’d look amazing,” Stephen responded finally.
I smiled, shaking my head. “Sure, I bet you did Rocky Horror in your uni’s Drama Soc, too, didn’t you?”
He returned my tired smile. “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. I’d never hear the end of it.”
“True,” I said. Settled back in my seat, the van’s heaters pumping out warmth, and the darkness outside, I felt my eyelids begin to droop as the adrenaline rush wore off. The guilt was still there, as was the worry for the injured officers, but I was too tired to think it through and instead slid into an uneasy sleep.
Stephen gently prodded me awake as the van was pulling up in Hewford’s car park, and I took a deep breath as I blinked myself back to awareness.
“You alright?” I said to Stephen.
“Ready for bed,” he said. The van doors were opened up, and we climbed out. “You’re not planning to run home, are you?” Stephen asked abruptly. “That’d be nuts. I’ll give you a-”
I huffed. “Nah, I’m not an idiot. I brought my car with me this morning.”
“Good,” Stephen said. “I’ll… see you tomorrow, then.”
I nodded. “Guess so. Get some sleep, Huxley.”
“An army couldn’t stop me,” he said lightly as he ambled off towards his car, his shoulders sloped with weariness.
As I made my own way home, my thoughts turned over and over in my head as I tried to process the evening’s events. One thought was most prominent of all.
Ellie Wooding was a traitor, and she’d gotten two police officers shot. I wouldn’t let her get away with what she’d done.
Twenty
The news came in the next morning that whilst the more severely wounded officer was still in the hospital, he was stable and expected to do well.
“Thank god for that,” Stephen said, as he and I left the meeting room where Gaskell had broken the news.
“Aye,” I agreed.
“What now, then?” Stephen asked. He looked ready and raring to go, where I still needed another coffee or two to wake up properly.
“We need to think seriously about Mrs Wooding not being on our side,” I said, once we were back at our desks. Stephen sat down, and I stayed standing, leaning against my desk. “That maybe she’s not been on our side from the beginning.”
Stephen frowned, nodding silently. “That would change things.”
“I’m concerned about Lawrence, too,” I added. “He’s unprotected, and we don’t know what his mother wants, exactly.”
Stephen rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Well, what does she have to gain? If she was a player in all this, and not a pawn.”
It only took me a moment to come up with a possible answer. “Money.”
Stephen grimaced. “What is it with people and greed?” he muttered.
“We’ll need to get access to the family’s will to check that theory,” I said. “How about I get a coffee to kick my head into gear, and you get started on that?”
Stephen rolled his eyes at me. “Yeah, yeah, you go and have your love affair with your morning coffee while I do the real work. I swear, you’d marry that stuff if you could.”
I grinned. “Jealous of some coffee? That’s sad, Steph,” I teased, walking off before he could reply.
My mood sobered as soon as I was alone, but I couldn’t do anything to fix what had gone wrong last night. The only thing I could do was to make sure it didn’t happen again, and to find a new angle to come at this problem from. For all we knew, Lydia could still be in that house, and we were no closer to finding her as things stood.
Gaskell was standing by our desks, talking to Stephen, when I returned with a large mug of my usual black coffee.
“News?” I asked him, partly eager and partly nervous, depending on what news he might have.
“Not especially,” he said. “The watch at the farm switched over this morning. There’s been minimal movement so far. They seem to have bunked down for the time being.”
I sighed. “That gives us time, I suppose, sir.”
Gaskell nodded. “Keep me updated with your plans.” He looked at me, before hesitating. I was surprised to see Gaskell pausing over his words and waited to see what he’d say. “I should’ve listened to you better,” he said finally. “You said that something was off and I dismissed you. Wooding’s information was clearly bad.” His lips twitched on Ellie Wooding’s name, and I understood the sentiment.
“It’s alright, sir,” I said awkwardly. “We were working with what we had, and it seemed like a sensible risk.”
“It did,” he agreed, “but it didn’t turn out well.” He gave me a final nod before heading back towards his office.
“I’ve never seen him apologise before,” Stephen said, sounding as taken aback as I felt.
“He didn’t really need to,” I said. “It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have known the future.”
“No, but he’ll still bear some of the guilt.”
As would I, I thought, but just made a noise of acknowledgement in my throat. “It is what it is. We can only go forwards from here.”
Stephen gave me a small smile. “You really do get more positive after having your coffee.” He nodded towards my mug. “Drink up. I need optimistic Mitchell today.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I pretended to grumble. But I did swallow another glug of hot coffee, savouring the warmth and bitterness. “Let’s get to work, Mr Happy.”
Stephen had gotten waylaid by Gaskell turning up, so he hadn’t made much progress with tracking down the Woodings’ wills yet.
“We don’t know which solicitor they’re registered with,” Stephen said.
“I know.” I chewed on my fingernail, thinking, and then snapped my fingers. “I know who would know that information,” I said as the thought came to me.
Stephen raised his eyebrows as I pulled out my phone. “Who?”
“The housekeeper. Rebecca.”
Stephen grinned. “Of course.”
I gave her a call, and she answered promptly. As I’d expected, she knew exactly which solicitors the Woodings had dealt with, and, given a minute, she tracked down their contact details for us.
“Thank you, Rebecca,” I said warmly, before a new thought occurred to me and I dropped my voice into a more serious tone, “Th
ere’s also some news I have to give you.”
“Oh?” Rebecca said, her voice steady, but I could hear the tension in it, regardless.
“If Mrs Wooding comes to the estate, she’s not to be trusted,” I told her seriously. “She caused two officers to get injured. If she turns up at the house, you need to call the police.”
There was a long pause. “I see. Thank you for warning us.”
I pressed my lips together. Rebecca had served the Woodings for a long time, it was only natural that she’d feel some loyalty towards them, but we couldn’t afford it in this case.
“She gave us false information on purpose,” I insisted. “One officer is in the hospital with a bullet wound. She’s dangerous, Rebecca.”
“I understand,” she said quietly.
That was all I could do. “Alright. Thank you for your help.”
Stephen sent me a look after I’d come off the phone. “She didn’t believe you?”
I pulled a face. “I don’t know. If she did, she didn’t want to.”
“Do you want me to call the aunt?”
My shoulders slumped at the prospect of having to call Alicia and tell her what her sister had done.
“That’d be great,” I said. I pulled up her contact number and handed my phone to Stephen.
While Stephen navigated that difficult conversation, his voice remaining calm and steady throughout, I looked into the solicitor that Rebecca had given us the details of. They were evidently an upmarket company, with their website and social media consistently tailored towards the wealthy.
Stephen finished on the phone, handing it back to me.
“Okay?” I asked him.
He grimaced. “Mostly. She was less shocked than I might’ve thought.”
I hummed. “She and her sister didn’t seem the closest.”
“She was more concerned about Lawrence,” Stephen said. “Wanting to know when more officers would be out looking for him, and what we were doing to look for him.”
I winced. “What did you tell her?”
The Stolen Children Page 19
