DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thrillers: Book 1-3

by Oliver Davies

  She grinned when she finally spotted me and waved shyly. She looked incredibly pretty as she made her way towards me, with carefully done make-up highlighting her blue eyes and her dark hair flowing in gentle curls down her shoulders. She wore a little silvery dress that was totally in contrast to the fluffy cardigans she’d worn at her house, but I liked her in both of them. She had a jacket over her arm, which she draped over the chair opposite me before she came over to hug me.

  “Hi,” I smiled as she wrapped her arms around me, and I squeezed her back lightly. She reached up to kiss my cheek as we separated, and I felt heat rise in my face.

  “Hi, Darren,” she said warmly, meeting my eyes for another long moment before she turned to look at the bar. “Pretty busy night, hm?”

  “Sure is. I didn’t want to lose the table.”

  She nodded, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “Friday nights can be a little crazy. Is it okay or-?”

  I waved my hand. “It’s good, don’t worry.” I paused. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  She smiled, looking shy and delighted at the same time. “You’re not too bad yourself, Inspector Mitchell.”

  I groaned. “God, don’t call me that.” I laughed and, when I looked back to the bar, saw that the queue seemed to have shortened. “I’m dying to try these famous cocktails, what can I get you?”

  She plucked a menu from the table and picked out a passion fruit concoction, and I went to get us two of them. The night progressed smoothly after that as we took it in turns to buy the drinks, and the noise of the other customers ratcheted up around us. It was getting near to eleven when the clubs opened. People were beginning to leave while Taylor and I chatted easily over a bowl of chips to take the edge off the alcohol we’d had.

  I excused myself to head to the loo, which was busy, and it was a few minutes before I could get back to her. I wasn’t sure what exactly made me tense when I returned to the main room and saw a young man talking to Taylor. He wasn’t looming over her. While she didn’t look particularly uncomfortable, there was something about the interaction that set me on edge. He was a big lad, too, easily as tall as me and as wide across the shoulders as Stephen, and the atavistic part of my brain that automatically sized up potential threats told me that I’d struggle to take him in a fight.

  Not that I needed to, I reminded myself as I walked over. As much as a part of me wanted to sidle up alongside Taylor and put an arm protectively around her, I restrained myself and moved towards my seat opposite her.

  The younger man turned around as I approached, and there was a cold, dark look in his eyes, although they were as blue as Taylor’s. He was handsome enough, and he shot me a friendly smile. There was something about it that struck me as ingenuine and put me on edge. He held out his hand.

  But I shook his hand politely and turned to give Taylor a quizzical look, frowning slightly at her. I’d been wrong; she was uncomfortable. She was hiding it well, but her shoulders were stiff, and her left hand was clenched around the back of the chair.

  She gave me a tight smile. “Darren, this is Will,” she said, evenly. “One of my old students. He came over to say hi.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I lied, and he widened his easy-going grin.

  “Hi, man. Good to meet you too. Sorry for interrupting you two.” He winked at me, all charm. It unsettled me. “Didn’t mean to disturb your little,” he gestured between us and lifted his eyebrows, “date. Have a nice night, miss.” He nodded to Taylor and walked away, a certain swagger in his step suggesting the weight of him.

  Taylor sank back down into her chair. Her face had gone pale behind her make-up, and she was all but trembling.

  “Taylor?” I said quietly, leaning in slightly to be heard over the music. “Are you alright?”

  Silently, she shook her head, and she kept sending glances over towards the man, Will. He was with the loud group I’d noticed earlier, and they were just leaving. He turned as they were going to give Taylor a wave that looked entirely friendly on the surface, but I was close enough to Taylor to feel her shudder.

  “Taylor? Let’s go, okay?” I said gently. “I’ll take you home.”

  “In- in a minute,” she said. She was as shaky as she’d been when Stephen and I had first visited her about the dead fox being left on her porch. “When he’s gone,” she added, lower.

  I scanned her face, trying to read what had happened exactly, but I could see that she didn’t have it in her to talk right now and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it gently.

  “Did you drive over?” I asked. She nodded. “Parked nearby?” Another nod. “Okay, good.”

  The police-trained side of me weighed up the worst-case scenarios, and the worst one was that that guy was a threat to both her and me. I didn’t want to have to walk her home and it was good that she’d parked close by, in case she needed to grab anything from her car when we left. I didn’t think either of us were sober enough to drive, and I wasn’t risking anyone’s safety, or my police career, trying to. We could easily call for a taxi.

  We waited ten minutes or so, during which Taylor didn’t speak, nor touch the remains of her drink or the chips, and I just sat with her, my hand in hers. I felt her gradually calm down, the tension leaking out of her, and she yawned.

  I smiled. “Tired?”

  The adrenaline spike of seeing that man, Will, who she was clearly afraid of, had worn off and left her wanting to sleep, especially when combined with the alcohol.

  “Yeah,” she said, a little sheepishly. She was looking at me sideways, like she was waiting for me to grill her on what had happened, but I didn’t think she wanted to talk yet.

  “You okay to leave now?” I asked, keeping my tone as neutral as I could, not wanting to imply that I was impatient. If she needed to wait another half hour to feel comfortable, that’s what we’d do.

  But she nodded. “I’m good.”

  I squeezed her hand and then let go, standing up to get my jacket and shrug it on while she did the same. She stumbled a little as she stood up and I reached out a hand to steady her.

  “Darren?”

  I was pulling my jacket on while still holding her arm to support her and looked up when she said my name. “Aye?”

  She giggled. “I think I’m a little drunk.”

  I smiled back. “Just a bit,” I agreed. I was feeling the alcohol too, but I was a fair bit bigger than she was, and I’d eaten a lot of the chips. “Do you need anything from your car?”

  She frowned at me as she slightly clumsily pulled on her own jacket. “I mean- we’re going there now, aren’t we?”

  I pulled an apologetic face. “We’ve both drunk too much to drive. I’ll call a taxi.”

  Her face fell before she nodded. “Yeah, you’re right,” she sighed. She thought for a moment. “I think I have everything I need here.” She patted the pockets of her jacket.

  “House keys?” I checked. She fished them out and jangled them, and I smiled.

  The taxi would be five minutes, and we moved slowly towards the front of the emptying bar. It was quieter now than when we’d arrived, as all the youngsters had cleared out to go to the clubs, leaving only a few stragglers still drinking and chatting.

  I looked both ways down the dark street as we stood in the doorway, but I couldn’t see anyone who looked like Will, nobody even near his size.

  Taylor pressed up against me, and I looked down at her in surprise. She was shivering a little, and I lifted an arm, tucking her under it. She looked up at me with a warm, tipsy, smile and I impulsively kissed her on the forehead.

  I pulled back, only for her to press her lips to mine. I was still for a moment, wondering, for several reasons, whether this was a good idea before I relaxed into it, pulling her close.

  A car horn honked nearby, startling both of us. I laughed at myself when I realised that the taxi I’d ordered had pulled up without us noticing, and Taylor laughed quietly too.

  It’d started to drizzle and, g
lancing once more up and down the street, I walked her over to the car, opening the door for her. She slid inside, and I walked around the other side to climb in beside her.

  She was giving her temporary address to the driver as I clipped in my belt. As the car started up, Taylor’s hand crept across the space between us, her fingers finding mine. She leaned over to put her head on my shoulder, and I released a relaxed breath, squeezing her hand gently. There was something comforting about being close to someone else with no other expectations, and I welcomed the warmth of her.

  Taylor had pretty much nodded off by the time we pulled up outside her house. I nudged her gently, tucking the hair out of her face. She blinked owlishly and looked around, disoriented.

  “We’re at yours,” I told her. “You want me to walk you in?”

  She looked up at me with those big eyes. “You’re not staying over?”

  I went still. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  She looked hurt. “Oh, sorry.” She unclipped her belt, and I reached across to take her hand.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I told her quietly, aware of the driver in the front. “But we’ve both drunk a bit, and you had a scare with that guy. I don’t want-”

  “Just… stay over, then?” she asked tentatively. “It’s only,” She paused, twisting her hands in her lap, “it’s my first night back at my place. I’ve been staying at my friend’s and…” She trailed off.

  “Forget it, nevermind,” she said hurriedly, getting out of the car

  She was nervous, I realised too slowly. The alcohol had made my head too muddy for my liking. “Taylor, hey, wait!” I opened the door to follow her, before pausing to stick my head back in the car. “Sorry about this, mate,” I said to the driver. “Can you just hang on a minute? I’ll tip well.”

  “No problem,” the driver nodded, and I thanked him.

  I closed the door and jogged through the rain towards Taylor, who was unlocking her door and shivering in the cold.

  “Taylor,” I said as I approached, not wanting to scare her.

  She turned around, looking faintly upset. “I didn’t mean to pressure you,” she said quietly, pushing her door open. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine, Darren.” She gave me a small smile. “Maybe we can get coffee another day, hm?”

  I reached forwards slowly, giving her enough time to pull away, and cupped her face in my hands. “Taylor,” I said, “I don’t mind staying over at all. I just didn’t think that anything more was a good idea.”

  She ducked her head, her face flushed. “Okay, then,” she said and smiled.

  I grinned back. “Okay. Let me go pay the taxi.”

  “Oh, of course.” Taylor patted her pocket and pulled out her purse.

  I waved a hand. “I’ve got it.”

  Taylor fixed me with a firm look, looking more like herself when she did so, less uncertain and worried. “Please, Darren. I want to pay half.”

  I paused a moment before nodding. I’d have happily covered it, but it was clearly important to her that she pay her fair share. I took the tenner she pulled out and went to grab my jacket from the taxi and pay the driver, giving him a big tip on top for patiently waiting for us to sort ourselves out, and for driving us around at this time of night.

  He drove off, and Taylor and I went inside, both of us damp and shivering now. She moved efficiently around the kitchen, putting the kettle on and disappearing upstairs only to reappear wearing her pyjamas, with a thick blanket and a man’s shirt, both for me.

  “It’s my brother’s,” she said, offering it. “You look a bit… soggy.”

  I laughed and accepted the t-shirt. She made us cups of tea while I changed, though I saw her send a couple of sly looks in my direction.

  I offered to sleep on the couch, but she insisted her bed was big enough. We ended up sitting atop the covers in her pleasant bedroom, both wrapped in blankets and sipping cups of tea. It was possibly the tamest end to a date I’d had since I was a teenager, but I found myself relaxed and at ease. The night hadn’t exactly gone as I’d planned, or hoped, but it hadn’t ended half-badly.

  But Taylor didn’t seem as chilled out as I was, and there was a worried little crease between her brows. I reached out to put a hand on her knee and gave her a concerned look when she lifted her head.

  “Are you alright? Feeling sick?”

  She shook her head, wrapping her hands around her tea mug. “No,” she said quietly.

  She looked past me, out the dark window. We hadn’t drawn the curtains yet, and the orange glow of streetlights was visible out in the darkness. The sky was full of clouds, and the moon wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but the city brightness left enough light to see the outlines of the nearby buildings.

  “That guy,” I guessed, keeping my voice gentle. I didn’t want to make her feel like she had to talk about it if she didn’t want to. “In the Turtle Bay?”

  She nodded, looking down at her half-finished mug of tea. She took hers milky, with one sugar, I’d noted.

  “He was an old student,” she said, which was what she’d introduced him as in the bar.

  “Taylor, you don’t have to-”

  “I know,” she said. “I want to tell you.” I nodded, waiting for her to speak again, which she did after a moment. “It was right when I started lecturing at the uni, a couple of years ago. I was more nervous then, less able to stand up for myself.” She swallowed, and I rubbed her hand.

  “He- he was a bully, really,” she said, her voice a touch harder, though her eyes looked wet. “He was rude to the other students, to me, but he passed it off by laughing. You saw how- how charming he can be. But his work wasn’t good, and when I gave the class their marked essays back, he was always fuming afterwards.” She took a sip of tea, her hand shaking slightly. “It worried me a bit, to be honest, but I didn’t say anything to the other staff, or anyone, because I thought, well I thought I was overreacting. Every teacher has difficult students, right? Now, I’d have the confidence to say something, but I didn’t back then.”

  I nodded to show I was listening. This guy sounded like a manipulative piece of work, and I disliked him more every minute.

  “His work didn’t improve, and I gave him marks that were an honest reflection of that. I’d offered to help him with it and told him where he could get essay writing tips, but he’d ignored me.” She sounded slightly defensive. “And then, maybe half-way through the second term, in the spring, he waited for me after class.”

  I tensed rigid, feeling faintly sick myself.

  “I thought he was going to hit me,” Taylor said in a small voice. “He was spitting mad, waving the paper in my face. And he’s- he’s just so big, isn’t he? And he was even more built up then. I was, I was really scared.”

  I gave in to my urge to comfort her and pulled her into a hug which she leaned into.

  “He shoved me,” she said after a moment. “But that was it, in the end. He tore the paper up, shouted at me some more, and walked away. I-I had a panic attack and had to take some time out of work. I told one of the senior staff what had happened, though, and Will got suspended. Then he attacked another student, I can’t remember the circumstances exactly, and he was expelled. I was relieved.” She sighed, going limp against me. I could smell the tea on her breath, and her hair was soft where she was resting against my neck.

  “I’m so sorry that happened.” There wasn't much else to say.

  She nodded, which I could feel against my shoulder. “Thanks. And thanks for listening.”

  “Of course.” We sat quietly for a while more, finishing our tea. Taylor was clearly falling asleep, and I took her empty mug from her lax fingers and gently lay her down.

  She stirred a little and blinked up at me. I turned away to put the mugs on the bedside table and then helped Taylor under the bed covers. Hesitating for a minute, I wondered whether sleeping on the sofa downstairs would be better, but Taylor patted the bed beside her, so I climbed in next
to her.

  She cuddled up close, and I held her tight, hoping that I’d be able to protect her from whoever had left that poor fox, and from people like Will, who liked throwing their weight around and didn’t give a damn about how it hurt others. I was still turning it over in my head when I fell asleep with Taylor in my arms.

  Twelve

  The light was too bright when I woke up, and I squinted, blinking rapidly. Someone was saying my name, but it felt like my ears were full of cotton wool. Maybe I’d drunk more than I’d thought.

  It came back to me that I was in Taylor’s bed when I saw the unfamiliar bedspread, and then Taylor’s face looking down at me. I tried for a smile, still half-awake, but she didn’t return it.

  “Darren!” she said, some sort of urgency in her tone.

  Beginning to wake up properly, I pushed myself up to a seated position and rubbed my head with a groan, with Taylor looking at me intently. I studied her face for a minute, wondering why she looked so unhappy.

  I scrubbed a hand through my bedhead. “I can leave?” I offered, feeling slightly hurt that she’d kick me out so soon, but more than willing to go if she wanted me gone.

  “No, no, Darren,” she started, chewing her lip. Scared, I realised belatedly. She wasn’t annoyed but upset. “There’s been another one... some birds.”

  “What?” I snapped, too loudly, and she pulled back slightly. I hurried to get out of bed. “Christ.” She nodded, and my stomach sank. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as my bare feet hit the cool floorboards, and I pulled myself upright. “Where?”

  “Doorstep again.”

  I swore quietly and instinctively patted my hip for my phone, but I was only wearing boxers, and my phone was in my jeans downstairs.

  “I need to call my partner, Stephen,” I told her as I headed downstairs, but my feet took me towards the front door first. “Have you moved it?” I turned around to ask as I was unlocking the door. Taylor shook her head. I got the slightly sticky lock undone and gritted my teeth to see the four dead birds on the doorstep. Small ones this time, and all lined up in a row with their wings spread out unnaturally.