Stephen swore quietly. “I’ll call them.”
I nodded and let him manage dealing with the university as I thought it over again. It was possible that Will was going by after people who he thought had wronged him, because incidents like what happened with Emma likely weren’t on any official record. But that worried me too, because the list of possible victims would be much longer if he was targeting anyone who’d ever angered him.
Stephen got off the phone. “The uni’s going to put out a general warning to teachers, plus the dean’s gonna forward a list of teachers who were involved with Will’s expulsion.”
I nodded. “Good.”
We spent the remainder of the afternoon talking to a range of people who weren’t sure why the police were calling them to ask whether there’d been any dead animals left outside their doors recently. They probably thought I was nutty. It was tiring, saying the same thing over and over, and trying to pick my way carefully along the narrow line between scaring them too much, and putting them in danger by not scaring them enough. I had to play it by ear, seeing how concerned each person sounded on the phone.
I had a headache by the time we’d worked through the list of teachers who’d been involved with Will, either by teaching him or by having a hand in his dismissal from the uni.
“He sounds like a right piece of work,” Stephen said, once we’d heard why exactly he was expelled, since the incident with Taylor hadn’t been the deciding factor.
“A violent, manipulative piece of work,” I agreed.
There had been a number of different incidents that had added up, including an attack on another student, threatening teachers, creeping out his flatmates, and stalking students online.
The day had left me feeling worn out both emotionally and intellectually, and I was glad when it hit five o’clock. Since we’d warned everyone as best we could, and Taylor was about as safe as she could be right now, there was no reason to hang about any longer.
“Going running?” Stephen asked.
I glanced out at the weather, which was wet again. “Aye. Need to get my brain to shut off somehow.”
“I find a beer and a good rom-com works for me.”
I chuckled. “That’s too mundane for me, Huxley.”
“Oh ‘course,” he laughed. “You can’t be darkly brooding while watching Bridget Jones’s Diary and eating ice cream. Running in the dark and wet, however, is perfect for it.” I snorted and rolled my eyes at him.
We got into a light squabble over rom-coms as we packed up, splitting up as I headed off to get changed and Stephen left to go home.
I set off running without any clear idea of where I wanted to go exactly. Usually, I headed in the general direction of home and took as many detours as it took to wear me out, including a couple of slopes if I could fit them in. It all felt substandard after my moorland run, and I decided that I needed something to look forward to. I should sign up to another race, especially since the organised races got scarcer the deeper into winter we went, so I ought to make the most of the ones available.
I found my feet taking me in the direction of the university, which wasn’t really surprising considering how much of my focus had been based around it recently, and how many times I’d driven over that way. I reached the flat expanse of grass over the road from Market Square, where the student shops were. There were students on the path, even in the dark and wet, coming back from the library. Usually, there’d be students heading to and from campus, I thought, but that was still shut down for now. They’d moved classes online as much as possible. I knew the dean was eager to open up again, since it hardly looked good for the uni to be closed up for long, even though it was for student safety.
Glancing side to side, I jogged across the road and onto the campus, running down the winding paths and getting myself briefly lost. Slowing down, I had to ask a student which way Halifax was, and followed his instructions.
I don’t know exactly why I wanted to go over there, except that Taylor had mentioned her run-in with Will at dusk earlier this year, and the investigation had taken us away from Halifax college for a while. I was curious, I suppose, to see what it looked like in the dark and when it was quieter.
It wasn’t as abandoned as I’d imagined, though, as students came and went, going to the laundry and the small Nisa next to reception. I paused by one of the bike sheds to catch my breath, looking around to get my bearings.
There wasn’t enough space to run properly, and I wanted to give my legs a proper stretching out before I headed back. My mind jumped back to looking out of Abby’s window, and I remembered the sports fields behind Halifax. That’d do, I thought.
Heading back the way I’d come, I found a gate onto the fields and slipped through. It was dark back here. Only the faint lights from the windows of the Halifax student housing blocks off to the left cast a faint glow over the field. The grass was waterlogged, and damp seeped through my trainers into my socks as I ran across it and down towards a kids’ playground in the corner.
My breathing rushing in and out of my lungs was the only sound for a long moment, the light breeze rustling through the dry autumn leaves of the trees lining the edge by the fence. I walked idly over to the playground, the surface firm but spongy under my feet.
A crunch of gravel caught my attention, and I lifted my head, listening closely. I couldn’t see anyone around, but the sound had come from the space past the end of the field. Curious, I jogged over, my wet trainers making little noise on the sodden grass.
There was a gate here, in between the high hedges, and I looked over it as I found the latch. There was what looked like a small, circular car park beyond the gate, and for no other reason than that I was on edge, I froze when I heard the crunch of more footsteps and watched silently.
A man crossed the car park, heading towards the only car still left there, and I narrowed my eyes at him, wishing that there was more light. The man was tall and broad, bigger than I was for certain, and my stomach twisted. Surely not, I thought, as I kept watching.
The man reached his car and popped open the boot, the car’s insides lighting up as he did so, but I was at the wrong angle to see his face. There was a crinkle of plastic, and then he pulled back, holding a plastic shopping bag in one hand that sagged with something heavy inside it.
I’d been keeping quiet, barely breathing, but the man went suddenly still and looked up, scanning the car park. I held myself motionless, telling myself that I was in the shadows and, if I didn’t move, there was no reason that he’d be able to see me.
The way he’d become so wary further persuaded me that he was doing something he shouldn’t, and something instinctual told me not to announce my presence and start asking questions.
The man turned away, shutting his boot, and starting to walk off to the left, where I saw that there was a path that led back towards the Halifax courts. Fumbling in my pocket, I pulled out my phone and winced at the brightness of the screen. I was glad I’d been on my way back from work, since I didn’t usually carry my phone when I was running.
I turned my screen brightness down as far as it would go and then hurried to send a message to Stephen, glancing up repeatedly to keep an eye on the bloke who was just about to leave the car park. I could just about make out the car’s number plate in the dim light, and I stuck that in the text message.
Then the man was out of sight, and I jammed my phone back in my pocket, reluctant to lose him. Maybe I was paranoid, and this man had nothing to do with our investigations, in which case I’d come out of it feeling like a pillock, but it wouldn’t do any harm. Leaving this man to roam about the campus unchecked, if he was involved in the case, could lead to serious harm. Following him was probably risky and stupid, but letting him get away… well, I didn’t want to imagine what the consequences might be.
I tried to ease the gate open quietly, but the blasted thing creaked loudly even though I only opened it half-way. I squeezed myself through the opening and crept a
round the outside of the car park, keeping to the grassy verge and avoiding the noisy gravel.
I couldn’t see the tall man anymore, and the path leading back towards Halifax was as dark and forbidding as a railway tunnel, seeming to swallow up any ambient light. My heart was hammering as hard as it had been when I was running as I moved carefully forwards towards the path, straining my eyes in the darkness. My night vision had been completely thrown off from using my phone. I couldn’t make out much of anything apart from the distant lights of Halifax further ahead.
I came to a halt, listening hard. It seemed almost too quiet, and I was rigid with tension, thinking that maybe this wasn’t one of my best ideas. This had begun to feel less like me watching the man, and more like he was watching me.
I took a step back towards the car park, and my jaw clenched with tension. I wasn’t in my police gear, so I wasn’t even carrying handcuffs, let alone any of the defensive tools they gave us.
Stupid, stupid, I thought, taking another step backwards. The leaves rustled noisily beneath me, and I cringed. I wanted more than anything to turn on my phone torch, but I didn’t dare. I hoped that the bloke had walked down the path quicker than I’d expected and that was why I couldn’t see or hear hide nor hair of him now, but my gut was telling me to be afraid; that he’d heard the gate being opened and was watching me now.
I was weighing up whether my best bet would be turning and running for it, or turning on my torch and announcing who I was when there was a sudden noise along with movement off to my left.
I turned towards it, instinctively raising my arms above my head as some huge shape seemed to come down on me from above, and then I was on the ground. A vicious kick to my stomach knocked the wind right out of me, and I couldn’t seem to move or react to defend myself.
The man’s dark silhouette lurched forwards as he aimed a kick at my head, which I barely avoided by curling up in a tight ball. The guy’s boot didn’t pass me by entirely, but struck me viciously hard on the shoulder, startling a yell out of me.
But my senses were returning, the back of my skull throbbing badly enough that I realised I’d been hit on the head, and I weakly grabbed at the man’s knee, trying to stop him kicking me again.
“Get off,” he snapped gruffly. My grab had thrown him off-balance, and he tried to pull back. I released him abruptly, leaving him staggering, before trying to roll to my feet.
The movement sent a wave of sickening dizziness through me, and I very nearly fell over again. He came at me and grabbed me by the shoulders of my running jacket, trying to throw me to the ground. Slow though my reactions were, I jabbed my hand up into the small space between us so that the hard tips of my fingers caught him right in the throat.
He coughed hard and shoved me back. My balance was completely off, and I tumbled to the ground with a groan, my elbow and back hitting hard stones.
There was a sudden flash of white lights up ahead, closer to Halifax, and I blinked dizzily, half-blinded. I saw, through my teary vision, my assailant throwing up his hand to protect his eyes.
“Hey!” I heard a voice call out, higher than the man who’d attacked me, but still male.
The guy bolted, and I twisted around to watch him go. I wished I could get up and follow, but my eyesight was still tilting from side to side. I didn’t think that I’d get ten yards if I tried to get up now.
As he ran away, I saw him crouch briefly to grab something white off the ground and, when it crinkled audibly, realised that it was the plastic bag I’d seen him take out of the car.
The lights turned out to belong not to the police, like I’d foolishly hoped, but a small group of students. I could hardly send them chasing after a rugby-player sized bloke who’d almost knocked me out.
“Hey! Are you okay?” one of them said. Their torches were blinding.
“Can y’ put th’ lights down?” I managed to say, my throat achingly dry.
“Sorry.” They did as I asked, one of them coming over to crouch at my side.
“Do you need an ambulance?” a female voice asked gently, sounding concerned.
I groaned as I sat up fully, reaching behind my head and wincing at the pain there. My hand came back sticky with blood.
“Need to- need to call my partner,” I mumbled, patting my pocket until I found my phone, but I was struggling to operate it, my vision swimming. I glared at it in annoyance.
“Uh, I think we should get you some medical help, ‘kay?” one of the students said.
I hissed a breath through my teeth and tried to think through the throbbing in my head.
“I-I’m DCI Mitchell,” I forced out. “That guy- the man who just ran off. I need to call my partner, tell him to go after him.”
In the light of my phone screen, I could see the face of the young woman still crouched at my brow. I thrust my phone at her and told her my lock screen password.
“Find ‘Huxley’ in the contacts,” I told her tightly. The pain radiating through my head was making me want to curl into a ball, and I had to fight to focus. “Call him. Speakerphone.”
“Okay, okay,” she said quietly. An indeterminate amount of time later, I heard my phone ringing. It took painfully long for Stephen to pick up.
“Yeah, Mitchell?” His voice came out of the phone sounding tinny. His tone was concerned, but also distracted. “What’s wrong?”
“Got attacked,” I managed, cutting my sentences into short chunks. “Think it was Will. Check y’r texts. Send a team af’r the car. Got it?” I could hear myself slurring like I was drunk but couldn’t make it stop.
“What?” Stephen said, and I grimaced, preparing myself to have to repeat it all again, but Stephen got himself together quickly. “Send a team after the car, right, okay? Are you hurt? Where are you?”
“At t’ campus.”
I couldn’t find the words for much more, and as Stephen kept talking, the student beside me took over answering him. I wasn’t aware of too much more after that, only brief flashes of clarity as the students helped me limp towards Halifax reception and, though I think I resisted, called an ambulance for my still bleeding head.
The paramedics wouldn’t listen to my protestations that I just needed to sleep it off and loaded me inside. I slipped into a foggy state of awareness again, and I didn’t properly come to until I was in the hospital, reclining on a hard bed with a doctor leaning over me. Tiredness and pain ganged up on me after that, and as soon as the doctor confirmed that I was okay to pass out, I closed my eyes and let it all fade away.
Seventeen
The smell of coffee woke me up, and I blinked, confused by the bright whiteness surrounding me.
“I knew that’d wake him up,” Stephen said smugly.
I turned my head, wondering why the hell Stephen was in my flat, but the movement jarred something, and the agonising pain radiating from the back of my skull put a stop to any thoughts. I groaned, my hand coming up to my head, instinctively trying to protect the wounded area.
“Easy, Darren, it’s okay, it’s okay,” someone else said, a woman’s voice.
I kept my head still and the pain, though still awful, became bearable and I opened my eyes again.
“What the hell?” I muttered.
Taylor was on my left, frowning. She took my hand and gently squeezed it. Stephen was on my right, and I looked to him for an explanation, even as the memories were beginning to return. My run, following that huge guy through the dark car park, the fight in the undergrowth, and getting found by a bunch of students.
“Did we get him?” I said, my dry throat turning my words into a creak.
Taylor brought a cup of water up to my mouth as Stephen said, “They did, yeah. You just focus on getting better, you idiot.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Idiot? Bit harsh.” My eyes were already closing again. Every tiny movement, even talking, hurt my head and passing out again didn’t sound like a bad idea.
“You got hit on the head with a rock. Almost cracked your
skull open.”
“Eh, I’ll live,” I protested.
Taylor gave a huff of surprised laughter. “Yeah, you will,” she agreed. “Rest up now, okay?”
I forced my eyes back open and found that Stephen was getting up. “You going back to work?”
He turned around, looking faintly guilty. “Yeah. We’ve got to get something out of him.”
I grimaced. “Who’s it? Is it Will?” The man I’d followed had been so tall and broad that I would’ve bet fifty quid on it being Will, but I’d never actually seen his face.
To my vindication, Stephen nodded. “Yeah, mate, it was Will. I’ll fill you in properly when you’re better, alright?”
“How long’s that gonna take?” I grumbled. It if wasn’t for the waves of pain that made it almost impossible to think or talk, I’d already have got up and headed for the station. It seemed so unfair that I couldn’t be there, when the bloke who did this to me was getting questioned. I deserved it, dammit.
“The doctors are monitoring you, mate. I don’t know for sure. You took a serious hit to the head, it’s not something to be taken lightly.”
“Yeah, alright, dad.”
Stephen snorted, and my eyes had drifted closed again, but I could perfectly picture his expression. If he said anything else before he left, I didn’t hear it as I fell back into a deep sleep, Taylor’s hand still holding mine.
When I came to again, I felt considerably more lucid. Neither Taylor nor Stephen was there. I tentatively tried moving my head, relieved when the pain was more of a dull ache than blinding stabs. I shifted onto my side to pick up the cup of water on the side table and drank it down greedily, feeling like my mouth had turned into a desert. Probably the blood I’d lost, I thought.
Groaning quietly, I eased myself up to a seated position and carefully lifted a hand to my throbbing head. The lump was about as bad as I could’ve imagined, and I grimaced when even the lightest touch over the top of the bandage left me feeling slightly sick.
DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thrillers: Book 1-3 Page 43
