I swore silently and tried to think of a way out of this. There were only two people ahead of us in the line, and I needed to do something before we got to the front.
“Hey mate, I need the loo. Y’know where it is?” I asked Phil.
“There’s one inside. We’re nearly there.”
“Nah, I drank a load in the pub. I need to go,” I rambled, looking around urgently for a way out.
“Jeez, okay,” Phil said with a laugh. “Go behind the barn or something, then.” He waved his hand vaguely, and I gratefully headed off in that direction.
“Hey! Where’re you going?” one of the blokes called out.
Without stopping, I mumbled something out about needing to take a leak and hurried away, hoping that he wouldn’t be bothered to come after me. I heard Phil calling out to the security guy, telling him where I was going and making a joke of it.
Thank god, I thought. The adrenaline was making my skin feel like it was buzzing, and I took several deep breaths once I was out of sight. Anywhere that wasn’t directly lit by the dogfighter’s lights was pretty much pitch black, the sky so thick with clouds that the moon didn’t stand a chance.
I didn’t know if anyone was going to follow me if I took too long, so I hurried tugged the camera and microphone free from where they’d been taped on and then wasn’t sure what the hell to do with them. In the end, I resigned myself to having to lose them and buried them in the cold ground with my boot, not wanting to get dirt lodged in my nails and give myself away.
I hurried back over to Phil once I was sorted, and he rolled his eyes at me. But we got into the barn with no problems, and I released a pent-up breath of relief. That had been too close.
I mourned the loss of the microphone and camera as we went inside and got settled, because it meant I’d probably have to do this all again. But there had been no other option, and I resigned myself to it, determined to get as much information out of this as I could in the meantime. I scanned the attendees’ faces, making mental notes, as we waited for the first fight to start.
The barn itself was harshly lit with bright white bulbs hung up amongst the rafters, and I wondered what was powering them. A large battery, surely, because this bunch of tumbledown barns couldn’t be linked up to the National Grid. The noise inside was terrific, with the crowd yelling and laughing and talking loudly together in the confined space, the barking of dogs not too far away.
The energy in the barn was darkly electric, the crowd hyped up on the anticipation of violence and the thrill of doing something illicit. Phil’s pupils were wide enough that I almost wondered whether he was on something, but almost everyone here was like that, buzzing with excitement. The feeling was almost catching, at least until I remembered what exactly they were excited about, and then I just felt ill.
The first fight was a short and bloody affair, and Phil laughed afterwards. There was such a disconnect between the awful feeling in my gut as I watched the poor animals being dragged away and Phil’s easy laughter that for a too-long moment, I just stared at him.
“What? You didn’t think that was a proper bout, did you?” Phil said, seeming to take my silence for confusion rather than the horror it actually was. And it was good he couldn’t read me any better because the violence of the painfully brief fight had left me momentarily unable to keep my face as neutral as it should have been.
I recovered myself quickly, though, and forced a laugh. “Oh, it did seem to be over ruddy fast,” I said, playing up my status as a newbie as a misdirection. Phil seemed to accept it easily enough, laughing good naturedly at me and slapping my back.
He started explaining how the night would go ahead, and most of it, I already knew from my research, but I listened closely all the same. I continued looking around the barn as Phil talked, taking note of the faces of as many people as I could.
“And who are they?” I asked when Phil stopped to draw breath.
I’d noticed a number of younger people, mostly women, carrying drink trays around. They were wearing white blouses and short skirts that looked poor protection against the wintry chill, though it was much warmer inside the barn than outside. My first thought was that they belonged to some kind of catering company, but that was absurd.
Phil went tellingly silent for a moment after I’d asked the question, and my stomach rolled for a whole different reason. These people serving drinks stood out amongst the crowd of mostly middle-aged, hard-looking men, and that was because they didn’t belong to this world at all. I didn’t think that they were here by choice, and Phil’s hesitation only added to my suspicion. I’d told Stephen before that dogfighting was often a place for networking and led to even worse crimes, including drugs and human trafficking, but I’d honestly not even considered that I would see that in evidence tonight. In retrospect, I should have expected it. Nothing was too dirty or too awful for these people.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t watch them too much,” Phil said, leaning closer to my side to give me an answer. I resisted the urge to shove him away from me and forced myself still.
“Why not?”
“Someone might think you’re interested. Or you’ll piss off someone important by looking at them for too long.”
He gave me a wink, like he was letting me in on valuable information, and I supposed he was. I just wished that I still had the microphone attached so I could get the evidence we needed to end this and then get the hell away from these people. It was disturbing to think how close I’d come to going down the same path as Phil and how my life might’ve turned out differently if my dad hadn’t died and I hadn’t broken away for a completely new start. I couldn’t believe that I would ever have sought to come to a place like this by choice, but I hated the slight splinter of doubt that wormed its way in.
Spending years in this life would jade anyone, and being in the police had something of the same effect, leaving many hardened after all they’d seen. At least with the police, I knew every awful sight I’d seen, and all the violence I’d witnessed and studied served a decent purpose, which left far less of a strain on my conscience or soul than what Phil did.
The fixation on violence here tonight served no purpose except supposedly to entertain, feeding bloodlust and making money for those gambling on the outcomes. Perhaps if I’d lived the same life as Phil, a fight like this wouldn’t faze me. But as sickened as I was, I didn’t wish to be unaffected by this violence. It was true that I couldn’t afford to be too emotional to get the job done, but I also firmly believed that a cop with no compassion and no heart had no right to be in the police. If I ever got to the point where I no longer felt a pulse of sadness and horror when viewing a crime scene or watching violence on a CCTV camera, then I’d know it was time to leave.
The fights went on, and my stomach rolled. The videos I’d viewed at the station had prepared me fairly well for what to expect, but there was still a visceral awfulness to seeing it in person, with the stench of blood thick in the air and the dogs’ pained yelps loud enough to make me wince.
I escaped to the back of the barn, a walled-off, foul-smelling area which had been designated as the loos, and once I was away from prying eyes, I pulled out my notebook. Trying to ignore the foul smell, I scrawled notes on the faces I’d seen, noting any particular tattoos, scars or distinguishing features as well as any names I’d heard Phil mention. I wrote down what he’d said about the young people serving drinks as close to verbatim as I could remember. I kept it as short and brief as possible, only wanting to make enough notes to jog my memory when I was back at Hewford and writing up a full report.
I couldn’t hide for too long without Phil wondering where I’d gone, so I shoved my notebook inside my sock and headed back over. I had the notepad in my jean pocket when I’d arrived because there’d been nothing in it then and no reason for it to raise suspicion, but if it was found now with what I’d written inside it, I’d be in serious trouble. I didn’t think they’d do full-body searches on the way out, though, so I took
the risk and hoped it wouldn’t backfire on me.
Phil handed me a sweating beer can when I rejoined him and his two employees, though they’d congregated together with several other blokes. I was introduced to them and fixed a friendly expression on my face as I shook hands, repeating their names inside my head so that I wouldn’t forget. They all seemed so normal as we chatted that I doubted I would’ve thought there was anything off about them at all if I’d met them in the bar or on the street. It was only when the conversation turned back to the fights that I was reminded how very much colder these men were compared to me.
Pretending to be enjoying myself amidst the bloody violence was exhausting, and it took all of my patience and energy to keep my expression neutral and my conversation light and engaged when all I wanted to do was get as far away from here as I could. I fixed my gaze on the dogs to keep myself focused. Phil would hopefully think that I was riveted by the fights, never guessing that I was swearing a silent pact to the dogs to get them out of here. It felt like a betrayal to look away whilst they were tearing each other apart, knowing no better, so I didn’t.
I kept an eye out throughout for Brian’s missing dog since I’d looked at a picture of the animal before I left home and had the image firmly set in my mind. I saw several dogs with brindle fur that looked similar, but none exactly matched Brian’s dog, and I was more relieved than I could say. If Fido had been put in the ring in front of me, there would have been nothing I could have done without breaking my cover, and I couldn’t do that for one dog as much as I might want to. Better that Fido remained missing for the time being.
The fights finally came to an end, and I collapsed into Phil’s car, feeling dead on my feet. I’d intended to try to get more information out of Phil on the drive home and recap the night with him, so I didn’t forget or misremember anything, but it didn’t work out how I’d wanted. As soon as Phil cranked up the heating and set off towards York, my eyes felt like they were weighed down with lead. I leaned against the car window, and despite it being a terrible idea to let myself be so vulnerable in such a precarious situation, I fell immediately asleep.
A hand shook my shoulder an indeterminate amount of time later, and I startled awake. My first thought was regret that I’d dropped off, followed by relief that I seemed to be fine and nothing bad had happened while I was out.
“The adrenaline caught up with you, huh?” Phil said, grinning at me. The car was stationary, and Phil and I were alone. The other two must have already been dropped off home.
“Guess it did,” I agreed, a touch sheepish.
“It’s the rush of it. You crash afterwards when it’s all over. You’ll get used to it after a few more fights,” he told me sagely.
“Aye, sorry. Didn’t mean to.”
He took my awkwardness for embarrassment and laughed, patting me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Dee. I conked out for like, twelve hours straight after my first fight. Made me late to a job interview,” he chuckled. “Good thing I have my own business now, aye?”
“For sure,” I said distractedly. “Where abouts are we? At yours?”
“Nah, at the pub where you dropped your car, mate, remember?”
Damn, my head was so fuzzy I wasn’t thinking straight. I’d only had one can of beer, but the adrenaline drop and tiredness were enough to leave me feeling drunk.
“Right, of course,” I said, forcing a laugh and shaking my head at myself. “Thanks for the lift, Phil.”
“You okay to drive?” he asked, peering at me. As naff as I felt, I was nowhere near the alcohol limit, and I was itching to be out of his company, so I waved him off.
“I’m good, seriously. See you soon, yeah?” I said before bidding him a hasty goodbye as I climbed out of the car.
I double-checked that I had everything on me and hadn’t left anything in his car before I gave him a wave through the window and walked away. The night air was effective in waking me up, and I took several deep breaths, keeping myself together as I headed towards my car, waiting until I was safely inside and out of Phil’s sight before I collapsed.
I muttered out a stream of swears as I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and tried to quell the nausea in my stomach. My skin was itchy and too-tight, and though I was mostly exhausted, struggling to keep my eyes open, I also felt a shaky agitation that made me want to go running. I shook my head against the impulse and forced my head into gear, doing up my seatbelt and setting off towards my lonely little apartment.
My ache for Sam was worse than ever as I arrived in the pitch dark flat, the heating off and all the curtains open. I would’ve done a lot to be able to just wrap my arms around my absent girlfriend and hold her, if only for a few minutes, but I resigned myself to the impossibility of that wish. But only for now, I reminded myself. The thought of her returning to York soon helped, and I stumbled through, brushing my teeth and getting changed before collapsing into bed.
I was most of the way asleep when I remembered that I was supposed to text people to let them know I was okay. I groaned as I levered myself up, picking up my phone. The bright screen made me wince, but I managed to type out a short message to Sam, Stephen and Rashford before I let the phone drop beside my pillow, falling asleep in moments.
Twenty-Four
A noisy buzzing from the front door intercom woke me the next morning. It took me several seconds too long to even realise what the noise was, and by the time I’d grudgingly rolled over and started to pull myself out of bed, my phone was ringing.
I had to search around in my duvet to dig it out, accepting the call without looking at the screen. My eyes were barely open and sticky with sleep, and my voice came out as a croak when I answered the phone.
“D- Darren speaking,” I mumbled. I’d almost said ‘DCI Darren Mitchell’ before realising that Phil could’ve been the one calling me.
“Hey, love, I’m outside,” Sam said warmly.
I blinked. I reflexively smiled to hear her voice, and that widened into a sleepy grin when I realised what she’d said.
“Outside?” I repeated.
“Yeah, I’m outside your apartment, sleepyhead,” she teased lightly.
“Oh, Christ! Seriously?” I mumbled, getting out of bed so quickly that I almost fell over my own feet.
Without bothering to put anything over my pyjamas, I hurried over to the door and pattered down the stairs to wrench open the front door. Despite what Sam had said, and knowing full well that she wouldn’t be so cruel as to joke about it, I was still shocked to see her standing right there in front of me.
It was lightly drizzling, and she had her bright red umbrella up, the handle resting on her shoulder. She wore that blue raincoat she liked so much and a pair of smart boots I didn’t recognise. Her hair was windswept, stray flyaways moving in the breeze, and her cheeks flushed with the cold, and she’d never looked more beautiful.
I should’ve grinned and pulled her close to kiss her, to wrap my arms around her and tell her how much I missed her. Instead, my eyes filled with tears, and I pressed a hand to my face in humiliation.
“Oh hell, sorry.” I dragged an arm over my face, but the tears kept coming. I hated how Sam’s smile dipped into concern, though the loving compassion there warmed me right through.
“Hey, no need for sorry,” she said gently, putting her brolly down so that she could hug me close.
She was nearly as tall as me, but she tucked her head against my shoulder, and I held her tight, pressing my face to her hair and breathing her in with a feeling of overwhelming love and relief.
“I missed you so much,” I managed to tell her once I’d finally got myself under control. She must have been tired from her trip, but she held me tightly, right there on the apartment doorstep, for as long as I needed.
“Missed you too,” she said, giving me a warm smile before she pecked me on the lips and took me by the hand.
We headed up the stairs to my apartment together. Dazed and almost overwhelmed with happine
ss, I was more than happy to let her lead the way.
Later that afternoon, we curled up together on the couch with cups of hot chocolate. I’d been planning to have coffee as usual, but Sam had insisted on something more special and spent ten minutes making a hot chocolate that was full of cinnamon, rich sweetness and nutmeg.
“You spoil me.” I sighed, relaxing back on the sofa with a sigh.
“You deserve it,” she said, rubbing a hand over my knee. “You want to talk about last night?”
I rested my head on the back of the couch, curling my finger around my warm cup. The scent of chocolatey spice was comforting, as was the weight of Sam’s legs tangled up with mine.
“It was awful,” I said finally.
I fell quiet, thinking of everything that’d happened the previous night and all the violence I’d seen. The sound of Phil’s laugh after that first bout stuck in my head, and it took Sam reaching out a hand to me to make me release my death-grip on my mug.
“Let’s not talk about it yet, okay?” I said, half-pleading with her to understand. “I just want to enjoy the day with you.”
She accepted it easily, squeezing my hand before letting go. “Okay, love. What do you want to do?”
I glanced over at the window and grimaced at the rain outside. It’d only got heavier since this morning, and whilst I didn’t mind a bit of wet weather, I knew Sam preferred to enjoy the outdoors when it was warm and dry.
“Would it be unforgivably unromantic to say the gym?” I asked, slightly sheepishly, before adding quickly, “Or we could do the museum and art gall-”
Sam laughed quietly, putting her fingers over my mouth to shut me up.
“The gym sounds good. I could do with a proper stretch after that drive down, and it’s so much more fun with you.”
Moving Target (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 6) Page 27
