I winced in sympathy. I may not much like the man, but I’d never wish him harm, and I knew what a pain it was to get a sports injury.
“I’m sorry to hear it,” I said genuinely.
“Do you need a hand with anything?” Stephen asked, guessing that was why she was here.
“You guys have been working that big case, right?” I remembered.
“Yeah, exactly, he really couldn’t have picked a worse time,” she said, with an ironic twist of her mouth.
“No doubt he’ll be back in tomorrow, knowing him,” I said, but Greene was already shaking her head.
“Tomorrow will be too late. That’s the favour I’ve got to ask you. We’ve been planning this operation for weeks now, and it has to be today. We’ve already put it off by a few hours because of this, and it’ll be tight.”
“What do you need us to do?” I said.
The policing strategies planning would wait, and this couldn’t, so Greene pulled up a seat, and she gave us the run-down of the case. I’d heard bits and pieces around the station about what they’d been working on, so I knew it was drug-related. Still, the scale of what they’d been planning surprised me, and I could see why Greene and Sedgwick wanted another pair of hands, especially since Stephen and I had been out on operations like this before. There’d be a number of less experienced officers there, from both Hewford and Leeds, by the sound of it, and Stephen and I were more than happy to accompany them.
“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Greene said, looking visibly relieved by our agreement.
We had less than an hour before everyone was set to leave near midday, so Greene headed off to do her last-minute preparations. Stephen and I wrapped up what we’d been working on before brushing up on the details of Sedgwick and Greene’s case, looking over the reports.
“This’ll be a big success if they pull it off.”
“If we pull it off,” Stephen corrected before giving me a cheeky grin. “We’re part of it now, so we can claim some credit, right?”
I laughed. “Sedgwick would love that.”
“I’m sure he’ll be the first to mutter about it being your fault if it goes wrong,” Stephen added. I groaned, knowing that it was probably true.
“I really don’t know what the bloke’s got against me.”
“Maybe the fact that you’ve snagged being a DCI even though you’re ten years younger than him?”
“And far more good-looking, don’t forget that bit,” I joked.
Stephen pulled a face at me. “I don’t know about that, mate, but Sam puts up with you, anyway.”
“Aye, that she does,” I said, my wide grin settling into something softer. “And I’m damn glad that she does.”
“Did you guys get to chat much last night?” he asked.
“Oh, look, time to go.” I tapped my watch and stood up, grabbing my thick jacket. I’d no doubt need it if we were going to be standing outside in the January cold for any length of time.
“Fine, you can tell me in the car,” Stephen said hopefully.
“Crikey, Steph,” I grumbled as we headed down the stairs at a jog, “you’re worse than a nosy aunt about my love life, I swear.”
“I’m just rooting for you. Plus, I’ve got to have updates to give Annie when she asks. She’s invested in you two!” He grinned at me.
“She should watch Love Island or something instead. It’d be far more entertaining for her,” I said.
“I’ve told her that, but she says their antics drive her up the wall. You and Sam are much more sensible,” he laughed.
“Aye, and much more boring.” I shook my head at him.
I was smiling, but there was a slight edge to the warmth that came when I was thinking about Sam because it still felt like there was an axe hanging over the two us, descending lower every time we couldn’t manage to catch up or when one of us was tired and ended our chat early.
Stephen clapped my shoulder as we reached the police car we were using. They got rotated around, so we never left personal things inside or made a tip of it, but Hewford was small enough that we could snag the same car most days.
“Don’t worry about Sam, okay?” Stephen said as we climbed inside, him in the driver’s seat.
“I’m not worried about her. She’s capable and knows what she wants,” I said.
He gave me a pointed look as he started the car up, adjusting the mirrors and the seat. He was slightly shorter than I was, though where I was lean with the classic runner’s build, he was stocky and broad-shouldered like the rugby player he was.
“You know what I meant,” he said, driving us out of the car park and getting us on the road. “You and Sam are solid. If there are problems between you two, you’ll fix it, I know it.”
“How do you know?” I said, slightly sharply.
I was getting tired of this conversation, not least because these worries had been going on inside my head too much recently.
“Because I’ve seen you two together. It’s gross, man. You’re so in love.” I opened my mouth to tell him that we were beyond done with him giving me advice on my love life, but he held up a hand to ward me off. “Alright, alright, I won’t act like your mum anymore. Get our destination plugged into the SatNav, will you?”
“Sure thing, boss,” I said sarcastically, ignoring how his comment about being like my mum had made my stomach twist slightly. I’d become good at not thinking about that over the years.
“How involved do you think we’ll have to get in this?” he asked a while later as we were heading up the main road out of the city.
“I’m not sure, really. We’ll have to keep an ear to the ground and see what Greene wants.”
“And I’m sure Sedgwick will be on the radio. He won’t want to sit this out, broken ankle or not,” Stephen said wryly.
“Aye, too right.”
The drugs seizure that was to take place was happening way out in the hills, and I was looking forward to seeing the moors again. As beautiful as York was, and it could be stunning, I missed the striking wildness of the fells, especially when the gorse and the heather cast their great swathes of colour across the rough terrain in the summertime. This time of year, the landscape would be washed out and bleaker, but there was a certain beauty in that too.
“Just as long as I can have lunch in a nice, country pub after it’s all over, I’ll be happy.”
“Aye, you can have your roast dinner, and I’ll go for a good run.”
“Roast on a Monday? Nah, mate, I was more thinking of a good, filling steak pie. You’re missing out, anyway.”
I just shook my head with a slight smile. Stephen would get his fill of happiness from his meal, and I’d get the same pleasure from taking a good, long romp across the hills. My only regret was that Sam wouldn’t be here to share it with me, but I couldn’t afford to dwell on that right now.
Instead, I spent the rest of the journey checking over the plan of action and the details of the case so that we’d be fully prepared. We were there as back-up, mostly, to make up the numbers if things went sideways, but I was aware that our rank was higher than most of the other officers there, and that carried a certain weight of responsibility.
In the end, Greene and Sedgwick pulled the operation off with perfect smoothness. They’d made sure to plan for every possibility, and it’d all been well under control. Though the value of the drugs they seized was significant, the actual number of people they were arresting was fairly small, which made for a relatively easy clean-up. Stephen and I weren’t much required to help after all, but the trip gave us a break from the office, and it was always better to be safe than sorry.
“Be careful up there, will you?” Stephen said as I was heading off.
We were standing outside The Ewe and Lamb pub, me in my running gear and Stephen still bundled up in his thick coat. There was a thick curl of woody smoke coming from the pub’s chimney. I knew there’d be a roaring fire and, judging by the reviews, some good food inside. I almost wa
nted to join him, but the moors stretching off in the distance were too tempting to ignore.
“Aye, I’m always careful,” I said, unsurprised when he rolled his eyes.
“You’re not. You’re reckless as hell,” he grumbled. “Just no broken ankle, okay? I’m not climbing those ruddy hills to fetch you down.”
I grinned. “I got it. So if I fall down a cliff, I’m on my own.”
“That’s the long and short of it,” he said, while both of us knew that if I injured myself, he’d be the first up there.
“Enjoy your dinner.” I gave him a pat on the shoulder and set off up the winding country road, leaving him to his steak pie and warm fire.
I’d plotted my route out on a map before we came, and it turned out to be just as I hoped, with a steep, hard climb at the start up to the ridge and then a long run on the flat at the top. The wind was fierce and gusting, blowing my hair in my face and making my jacket flap and tug at me like the hands of impatient children. I grinned, running forwards into the wild weather and enjoying the heck out of every minute.
I paused at the highest point, admiring the stone cairn that’d been built up by many hands before looking out at the view beyond. The sky had clouded over somewhat, but the visibility was still good. I shaded my eyes and could just about pick out The Ewe and Lamb, which seemed a fair distance away now, down on the lower slopes. I couldn’t spot the remote farm where the drugs seizure had taken place because it was over a hill and out of my line of sight, but otherwise, I could see for miles.
The damp, cold scent of rain was in the air when I set off again, continuing on the gritty path. I had a compass with me as well as my phone because I knew from experience that the weather could change within minutes up here. When the mists fell, they were quick and complete, sometimes leaving barely a couple of meters of visibility. And in those conditions, a compass and a map were my safest bet for not stumbling off a hidden crag or running into a bog.
But the weather stayed fair for now, with just the icy, January wind and the occasional speckle of rain to contend with, and I set a good pace along the remainder of the ridge. The lashing of the wind and my running had left my cheeks numb and lips chapped, letting me know that if I’d been standing still or walking slowly, I would’ve been feeling the wintry chill within a minute. As it was, my hands and nose were feeling the cold even through my gloves, and I looked forward to cupping my fingers around the heat vents in the car when I got back.
Soon enough, I’d be heading back down towards the pub and the valley below, and I already wished that I could have longer up here, despite the bitter edge to the air. There was something about the thrill and the rush of being on this rough, untouched ground that gave me the feeling that I could run forever.
Pausing at the top of the path that would lead me down, I looked out at the view one last time. Dark clouds gathered over to the East, and I reckoned it’d be a close call whether I could get back to the pub before they reached me.
On the moors themselves, there were scant signs of life bar a scattering of farms, which hunkered down close to the heathland. Most of those were for the sheep that popped up amongst the heather every now and again and which had probably been passed down the generations.
I set off again shortly after, catching the sound of dogs barking in the flurries of wind as I ran. The path became slippery, the grit thin on the ground in the steeper portions, and I paid attention to where I was putting my feet. Like Stephen had said, I really didn’t want to turn over on my ankle.
Further down, the barking of the dogs came again, louder this time, and I kept an eye out for where it was coming from. It could be a couple of farmers’ dogs, I thought absently as my breath came in short pants. Usually, though, they kept border collies or the like, and their bark was a higher yip than the ones I could hear. Plus, it sounded like there were more than a couple of dogs, quite a few more.
My curiosity made me draw to a halt, glancing around the landscape for a source of the noise. Now that I was lower down, I couldn’t see as far into the distance, but I didn’t need to. There was a farm not too far away that was nearly level with me, and after a moment of close listening, I was sure that the dogs’ barking came from there. It passed through my mind to think of the disappearances of pet dogs we’d been having in York, but I dismissed the idea as being too outlandish.
Still, I hesitated. The path I was on led in the opposite direction to the farm, back towards the pub and the small village lower down. Most likely, the dogs were a pack of hunting hounds getting hyped up for a chase, though I couldn’t hear the other noises that’d usually accompany a hunt; the clack of the horses’ hooves and their whinnies.
But the farm wasn’t far out of my way, and it looked like fairly easy terrain, so my curiosity won out, and I set off in that direction. There wasn’t a direct path, so I had to pick my way through the bracken that thrived here on the slightly lower slopes and reminded myself to check for ticks when I got back to the car.
I drew closer to the farm, staying slightly higher up, and ventured round the back. Stephen would be waiting for me back at the pub, I knew, and we still had work to get on with today, but I dearly wanted to satisfy my nosiness.
I got my answer a moment later when the door to one of the barns opened up, and a big bloke walked out. I stilled at the sight of movement, watching with a frown as he hauled a dog along behind him on a lead. It had a squared-off head and cropped ears and tail, its grey body made stocky with muscle. Staffordshire bull terrier, I reckoned, though I wasn’t any sort of expert, and I wondered whether it was legal.
The man latched the barn door behind him and strode off, pulling the dog behind him. My idle curiosity had turned into something sharper and more professional because what little I’d seen so far didn’t suggest an innocent explanation.
Glancing around to check that there was no one else about, I descended the short slope at the back of the farm. There was a mean-looking wire fence around the property, but it was in ill repair, and sections were peeling back, allowing me to carefully pull myself though. My heart was beating harder than when I’d been running, and I knew that what I was doing was dangerous. The thought of Stephen’s instruction not to get into any trouble made me pause briefly before I pushed on. I was set on finding out what was in that barn, and it would be pure stupidity to hang around in the open for too long if something dodgy was going on here. Right now, I was only a civilian, and I didn’t have my radio on nor any backup waiting for me, yet that wasn’t enough to make me walk away.
The barn the man had emerged from, dragging the dog with him, wasn’t locked but only latched, and I opened it hurriedly. The dogs were still barking, though less now, which covered the noise of the metal rattling. They’d been so loud before, I realised, because that bloke had been in there with them and probably had to struggle to get that reluctant-looking dog onto a leash.
It was dim inside the barn, and the smell hit me first, with the sickening stench of animals left in their own muck thick enough to make me gag. My eyes adjusted, and I could make out rows of pens, with movement in each of them. The one nearest me was easiest to see with the light from the open door illuminating the pen, revealing a blocky dog with puppies clustered around her, dark eyes watching me closely.
I swore under my breath and fumbled for my phone, glancing over my shoulder back out at the yard. It still seemed empty, so I got my camera app open and struggled to get a picture in the murky lighting.
In a break between the dogs’ yapping, I heard something behind me. It couldn’t have been anything more than the scuff of boots on the cracked concrete or the harsh exhale of someone out of breath, but the back of my neck prickled, and I spun around.
The man from earlier, now without the dog, was striding in my direction. I tensed rigidly, trapped in the inevitability. My instincts were telling me to freeze or hide, while my brain wanted me to make a run for it before he looked up from his boots and noticed me.
The
decision got made for me, as his gaze came up a second later. His bearded face twisted into a mask of outrage when he saw me, and he jerked forwards towards me.
“Oi!” he yelled.
I ran.
Three
With my legs already feeling heavy from the hard running I’d done so far, I really had to push myself to go as fast as I could. Adrenaline was flooding in, giving me an extra burst, but the ground underfoot required me to watch where I was going and not just run hell for leather like I wanted to.
I hadn’t heard any footsteps coming after me as I dashed away from the farm, sliding through the hole in the fence and hissing as a stray bit of wire cut my hand and caught on my coat. I tugged it free with a ripping sound and took off again, skidding and panting my way back towards the path I’d deviated from.
As I reached a small mound, I risked twisting around to look over my shoulder. An explosive shot rang out, echoing off the hills, and I dropped to the ground instinctively, submerging myself in the thigh-high bracken. The plants weren’t prickly, but their creeping fronds itched at my neck and arms and made goosebumps rise where they touched my bare skin.
Now they’re shooting at me, I thought as I kept myself hidden before telling myself to focus on how the heck I was getting out of here. When no more shots came immediately, I lifted my head and saw that the bloke who’d levelled the rifle at me had a couple of others standing with him now. I wasn’t far enough away that I couldn’t see him wave his arm in my direction, directing the two newcomers to come after me.
I swore, none too quietly, and shoved myself off the ground. I tried to keep low but gave it up after fifty meters and instead relied on speed to get me out of range of that gun. Another shot sounded, and I ducked instinctively as I carried on running. The speed I was moving at, the distance, and the uneven ground would all make me a difficult shot, though my running coat was a royal blue that stood out against the darker colours of the sky and the moors. At least it wasn’t a bright red or yellow, I thought grimly, as I pushed tiredly forwards.
Moving Target (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 6) Page 3
