It ended up taking me half an hour of wheedling, explaining and arguing on the phone with Ross, but she did finally relent. I suspected she’d just got sick of talking to me, but she could always have refused and hung up point-blank, and she hadn’t.
“Fine, fine, do as you will. I wash my hands of it,” she grumbled.
“Thank you!” I exclaimed. Stephen had been listening in disbelief as I worked to get her to come round to the idea, and he shook his head now.
“Just don’t get shot. I’d never hear the end of it from Arabella,” she said flatly before hanging up.
It was strange to hear the Superintendent called by her first name, and I quirked an eyebrow at Stephen.
“Do you think they’re… y’know?”
“Bumping uglies?” Stephen filled in, looking amused.
I laughed. “Aye, but don’t ever say those words again.”
“No idea. I wouldn’t risk asking Rashford either. She’d probably turn you to ash on the spot.”
“Don’t worry. I had no intention of asking her that.”
Once we had Ross’s reluctant permission, I left Stephen to call Rashford as I got back on the phone. I rolled my eyes a couple of times as Stephen dropped mentions that the idea was mine and he’d been strong-armed into it.
“She agreed. Grudgingly,” he said when he got off the phone a few minutes later.
“She changed her mind once she heard that Ross approved, huh?” I said with a smile.
“Pretty much. And she also had some advice.”
“What’s that then?” I said curiously.
He huffed. “Don’t get shot. Really comforting and helpful.”
“Well, we’ll do our best,” I said, shaking my head. “Ross did say that they’d seen no activity in recent days on the cameras they set up, so we should be good. She said she’d been considering moving in soon, too.”
“So we’re the guinea pigs. Or should I say the canaries?”
“Don’t be moody. You know you can stay in the car if you really don’t fancy it, right? I’m not really pushing you into this. I just wanted to share the driving.”
“No, no, it’s fine. Just don’t go haring off without me if something does happen, right? Not all of us are marathon runners.”
“Dammit, and I was all set to leave you behind if the zombie apocalypse hit,” I said dryly, exasperated. “C’mon, Steph, really?”
He gave an uncomfortable laugh. “Sorry, mate. I know you wouldn’t, really.”
We settled into a comfortable quiet as I drove up the main road, the radio on in the background. It wasn’t too far to the farm that LACS had identified as a hot spot for the dogfighters. Though we were well outside of York, the scenery was pleasant enough to make me wish I’d brought my running kit.
We didn’t have the time to spare for that, as much as I would’ve liked to, so I focused on the job at hand. I was fully aware that the most likely result of all this would be zilch, and I was bracing myself for disappointment. The dogfighters had probably all moved out, as the LACS cameras suggested, and taken all the dogs and evidence with them. Of course, there was always a possibility that the criminals would still be there, holed up and waiting to strike if they were disturbed, even though I thought the likelihood of that happening was slim to none.
I took a breath of the cold, fresh air and settled myself. I was hoping to find something up there on the farm, but not anything more than Stephen and I could handle. Beyond that, we would just have to hope for the best and plan for the worst.
Twenty
We pulled on thick jumpers and coats that’d been stashed in the boot of the car to fight off the chill. We’d warm up once we got walking, and I was eager to get going before the rain came back since it’d lightened up for a while.
“I hope you don’t expect me to run up there,” Stephen said, gesturing up the path as we set off.
“I did tell you that we’d be walking. I’m already resigned to going at your pace, mate, so if that was your attempt to get out of this, it won’t work.”
“Darn it.”
Stephen and I had swapped seats halfway through the drive, giving me the chance to look up a map of the area online and plan out a route over to the farm. According to that, we could stick to a marked-out footpath in the beginning, and then we’d break away and head off towards the farm later on. Hopefully, then we could realistically claim that we’d strayed from the path only a little and got ourselves lost.
Stephen didn’t love exercise like I did, but he still played rugby with his pals and ran around the pitch a fair bit on the weekends, so he kept up the pace pretty well as we climbed. We paused an hour or so later at a scenic spot to eat the lunch we’d grabbed at the service station, but the air was too cold to sit around for long. The heavens opened not long later, and Stephen grumbled under his breath as he plodded on, sending me a sideways look that I knew meant, ‘I could be in a nice, warm pub right now.’
“At least the rain will make the visibility worse. It’ll be harder for them to see us coming if there is actually anyone left on the farm.”
“You’re not making me feel better,” Stephen said flatly.
It wasn’t long afterwards that the farm came into sight, though we still had a short way to go before we would be close by.
“How’re we gonna explain this exactly?” Stephen asked as we were forced to clamber over a dry stone wall topped with barbed wire. Stephen had managed to rip the side of his jeans, putting him in a bad mood, and I expected I’d owe him at least a couple of beers at the pub after all this.
“Explain what?”
“Explain how we ‘accidentally’ stumbled on their farm after getting lost, except that you have to climb over a bunch of walls to get close.”
“Maybe you were desperate for the loo. I don’t know, mate. Hopefully, we won’t see anyone, okay?”
He blew out his cheeks, looking tired and exasperated, but he didn’t complain as I pushed on. It became increasingly obvious as we got nearer that the farm was in disrepair, and the dilapidated barns and outhouses looked one light gust away from caving in.
“We should just let them host the fights here,” Stephen muttered as we looked over the farm from a slight rise. “Those roofs will collapse any minute and, voila, problem solved. Squashed like bugs.”
I sent him an unimpressed look. “Crushing criminals is hardly in line with human rights, Steph. And what about all the dogs?”
He winced. “I wasn’t serious.”
“Aye, I know,” I sighed. “C’mon, let’s go closer.”
To my relief, there weren’t any more stone walls to be climbed as we headed towards the farm. Stephen and I kept silent as we got nearer, though I could hear nothing but the whistle of the wind and the patter of light drizzle on my raincoat. The place certainly looked deserted, though we’d only know for sure once we got closer.
“Stay here,” I told Stephen quietly when we reached a rusted metal gate, the last obstacle between the farm and us. “Whistle if you see anything.”
“You want me to play lookout?”
I gave him a firm look that asked him not to argue with me right now. He reluctantly nodded, and I stepped away, hopping over the rusting gate as quickly and quietly as I could manage. The hinges creaked as I jumped off it, and I grimaced, pausing to listen for any shouts of alarm or the bark of dogs, but there was nothing. I glanced back at Stephen before running lightly forwards, crossing the cracked concrete yard, weeds sprouting up from the cracks, to head for the nearest barn.
I was wary of what Stephen had said about the roofs of these buildings collapsing in and didn’t go inside, only sticking my head round the door. I hadn’t brought a torch with me, and regretfully, my phone wasn’t modern enough to have a light. The barn inside was dimly lit, and it was difficult to make much out. I couldn’t hear anything nor see any movement, but I was all too aware that someone could be crouched in the shadows, and I wouldn’t have been able to make them out.
>
Still, after pausing there for a good couple of minutes and hearing nothing, I had to move on. I checked the other barns in turn and found much the same, which was nothing of use. Several times when I thought I saw the outline of a person, I ventured forwards only to realise that it was some rusted piece of machinery or a mildewed stack of feed bags. I released a tight breath each time.
I scouted out the area as thoroughly as I could, glancing over at Stephen regularly to check that he was alright and that he hadn’t noticed anything amiss. I was close to heading back over to him and admitting defeat but decided to do a final look around the back of the most tumbledown barn. I stayed a good couple of meters away from its unsound walls, wary of falling tiles or stones, nudged off the roof by the light breeze that was blowing drizzle down my neck.
Behind the barn, the ground was oddly bare, without either the sparse moorland grass or any kind of hardy weeds. There didn’t even seem to be much in the way of rocks or carelessly tossed rubbish, as there was in many other areas of the farm, and I frowned down at it.
I heard a sharp, high whistle that was stronger than just the wind rushing past my ears and looked up. Stephen wasn’t quite in my line of sight from here, and I had to step around the barn’s wall to catch sight of him. He waved at me with some urgency, beckoning me back towards him. I swore under my breath, hesitating for a second as I made my mind up.
I needed to take a second look at that soil, which had seemed so out of place, and I could only hope that whatever threat Stephen had spotted was still some way off. I could already imagine the tongue lashing he would give me after this for not cutting and running immediately, but now that we’d made this trip and painstakingly persuaded Rashford and Ross to let us do it, I didn’t want it to have been wasted time.
Looking over the soil with renewed urgency, I saw a disturbed patch a little further along and hurried over towards it. Stephen let out another high-pitched whistle, and I dropped to my knees in front of the soil in a rush. Without thinking too hard about it, I dug my hands in the cold, wet dirt and started digging. It was far too easy, the soil fresh and loose in a way that made me certain it had been recently dug up and turned over. I tossed aside clods of earth and kept going as the wet soaked into my knees, and I heard a third, long and frantic, whistle from Stephen.
I repeatedly swore under my breath but couldn’t make myself leave, not yet. I heard the telltale rumble of a vehicle approaching steadily and dug harder, feeling one of my nails crack painfully as I clawed at stones, throwing the soil aside in a hurry. My hands felt numb, and I could hear my own breath loud in my ears as I plugged away, the car or van getting louder and closer all the time.
“What the hell are you doing?” a voice hissed behind me.
I almost pulled my neck out of alignment with how fast I spun around, my heart rate instantly skyrocketing, only to sag with relief when it was only Stephen. He looked furious, and I knew why but I didn’t have the time to hash it out with him.
“If you’re staying, help me with this,” I ordered under my breath as I went back to frantically digging with my throbbing hands.
“We need to go,” he told me shortly, the repressed anger clear in his voice.
My hands were so cold and bloodless that it took me a precious second to realise that I was no longer clawing at soil but rough cloth. I sent Stephen a pointed look as I grabbed onto the fraying material as best as I could and sat back on my haunches as I tugged at it. My frozen hands struggled to grip the cloth, and Stephen nudged me aside after a tense moment.
“Go and keep watch,” he said quietly with an undertone of steel.
I hesitated long enough to be sure that he was going to pull up the cloth and find out what the hell had been buried there, like I wanted, before I ducked away, running silently along the barn wall.
The noise of an engine shut off just as I reached the edge of the falling-down barn, and I froze, barely breathing as I poked my head around the side. I could see about half of the concrete yard from where I was, and I sucked in a breath when I saw the Land Rover parked up there. Three guys were getting out, slamming the car doors behind them, and I would’ve bet on them being no one we wanted to run into.
I flinched when I heard the loud clink of stone hitting stone behind me and twisted round to see that Stephen had frozen, his eyes wide. He had pulled a bulky bundle of cloth out of the hole and had his phone out. Even from here, I could see the red stain that’d leaked through the sackcloth, and I swallowed down bile.
I couldn’t afford to dwell on wondering what exactly had been buried there and turned hastily back towards the yard, warily sticking my head around the wall. Two of the blokes who’d climbed out of the car didn’t seem to have heard anything but the third, the driver, stood facing my direction. He was frowning, and for a terrifying second, I thought he’d spotted me. I kept very still, reminding myself that the human eye was far better at spotting movement than it was at picking out stationary objects, and eventually, the guy looked away.
“Let’s go,” Stephen’s low voice murmured close behind me.
I’d been so focused on the men in the car that I hadn’t even heard him approach, and I startled so badly that I almost fell forwards, right out into the open. Stephen grabbed my shoulder at the last moment, tugging me back, and I fell hard onto my right hip, suppressing a yelp of pain.
“Sorry,” Stephen said. “C’mon. We’ve got to go, Mitch.”
“I know, I know,” I said, wincing at the sting in my hip, which was now throbbing in tandem with my frozen hands.
I dragged myself up, and we crept away from the yard, heading towards the farm’s boundary as we tried to get away without being seen.
“Get down,” I hissed, grabbing the back of Stephen’s jacket and tugging him down to a crouch.
There was a gap between the buildings up ahead, and I’d just seen movement. The guys who’d arrived were taking a look around the farm much like I’d been doing only minutes ago. We let them pass before hurrying forwards again, my heart in my throat and my back tingling, half-expecting a scattershot of shotgun pellets to slam into me at any moment.
But, breathless and unsteady on our legs, we made it over the first fence and then over the barbed wire stone wall without hearing any shouts or shotguns being fired.
“Did we make it?” Stephen gasped, looking pale despite how hard he was breathing.
I looked over the wall, back towards the farm, and couldn’t see anyone around. Hopefully, we’d managed to slip away unseen, with the fact that no one had come after us being positive. I couldn’t imagine that blokes like that, if they were dogfighters like I strongly suspected, would let us go without a chase if they’d found us snooping around.
“Did you cover your tracks?” I asked him quietly. I’d been focused on the threat and hadn’t even glanced to see what Stephen had done with what we’d found.
“Yeah, but in a rush. If they look hard, they’ll notice.”
“Let’s hope they don’t bother,” I said with a nod.
“To be on the safe side, how about we get going?” he said, already moving away.
I wanted to put some distance between them and us as much as he did, and we walked in a tense silence back to the car, keeping the pace up all the way. Stephen looked done in by the time we got back on the public footpath, and I realised, probably rather belatedly, that Stephen was built entirely different from me.
Whilst I had been fully aware of the danger and consequences of getting found, I was hyped up on adrenaline right now, and there was less of a sense of fear in my system than the lingering thrill of the rush. Stephen, on the other hand, had clearly been scared out of his mind about being discovered and looked ready to be sick. I felt a rush of gratitude towards him for not only coming with me but for standing his ground and doing what needed to be done, even though every part of him had probably been shouting at him to get out of there. He was a bigger man than me in that regard.
“Thanks, Steph,
” I said quietly once we got back to the car.
Stephen had jabbed at the car key as soon as we got in sight of the car and opened up the boot, sitting heavily down inside.
“You’re an idiot, a reckless, stupid idiot,” he said flatly, looking too tired to summon any sort of anger.
I released a breath and started pulling off my walking boots without replying. This was the response from him I’d predicted, but now wasn’t the time for an argument.
“I’ll drive,” I said, once we’d both changed our muddy shoes and climbed into the front seats.
“Probably a good idea,” Stephen muttered before yawning widely.
He fell asleep less than five minutes later after we’d barely got on the road, and I cast an amused look in his direction. I was still buzzing slightly from the adrenaline, but he’d clearly crashed hard. He didn’t stir even as I put my phone on speaker and let Rashford know that we were safe and on our way. I told her that we’d found something and Stephen had taken photos but that we’d fill her in on the full details when we got back to Hewford. I had to say that because I didn’t actually know what exactly we’d found. I could take an educated guess, of course, but I didn’t know for sure and wouldn’t until Stephen told me. I was admittedly tempted to wake him up and get him to show me his phone, but I was reluctant to disturb him, and I’d find out soon enough.
I stopped at a service station, and Stephen stirred then, blinking groggily at me.
“Are we there?”
“No, I just needed the loo. You want me to grab you a coffee inside?”
“Big latte, please, and something full of fat and sugar to wake me up.”
I smiled at that. “Understood, cap’n.”
I headed into the services and emerged a few minutes later with enough snacks to keep us going. I’d picked Stephen up a chunky pasty and a flapjack, figuring that he probably needed something substantial to eat after all the walking we’d done, the aftermath of adrenaline and exercise leaving him drained. I got myself a croissant and a cup of scalding coffee, not feeling too hungry yet though I was sure it’d hit me soon. Predictably, Stephen devoured his food and was done before I was.
Moving Target (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 6) Page 23
