by S M Hardy
‘Drop the gun, Cummings, or your bitch is history.’
I cocked the shotgun. ‘And your brains will be splattered all over this clearing.’
The flesh below his right eye twitched, a nervous tic and a very useful indicator of an opponent’s state of mind in moments of stress. At any other time I would have tried pushing his buttons to get a reaction. The knife pointing towards Emma’s heart was a good enough reason not to do it.
One of his sidekicks appeared beside him and leant in to whisper in his ear. His nostrils flared and an expression of irritation crossed his face. ‘Go – now,’ he shouted at his followers and, after a moment of confusion, two of them hauled the man I had stabbed onto his feet between them and another two helped the guy with the shattered leg. They and the others all hurried off in different directions disappearing into the forest.
Oliver glared at me. ‘This isn’t over,’ he said, lifting the hand with the knife and resting it below Emma’s right eye. ‘And if you want to see your wife alive and well ever again’ – his eyes shifted to Laura – ‘it would be better if you make sure this little bitch never leaves your sight.’
He began to edge backwards, pulling Emma along with him, a henchman at his side, a rifle pointed towards my chest. Emma’s lips moved mouthing the words ‘I love you’.
‘I’ll be coming for you,’ I said, and she smiled. Oliver, the egotistical prick, thought I was speaking to him. Emma knew differently and she was the one who mattered.
I kept the gun aimed at his head, just in case the opportunity arose. Wishful thinking on my part, I suppose. He disappeared into the trees and was gone. His sidekick stood there a moment or two longer, the rifle now pointed at my head, giving his leader additional time to get away. I could see by the curl of his full lips that he was smirking at me, daring me to try to shoot him. At one time I probably would, but Oliver had Emma. I lowered my gun and, with a derisive laugh, he stepped back into the undergrowth and disappeared.
Laura was instantly on her knees beside Dan and then, in the distance, I heard the sound of sirens. I dropped the gun and knelt beside her.
Detective Inspector Brogan drove Laura and a groggy Dan back to the house. I went on horseback, passing the Land Rover, still parked across the track, with two policemen standing guard. I hoped I’d come across one of Oliver’s henchmen on the ride back. It wasn’t to be, which was probably as well. I had quite possibly killed one man. A plea of self-defence would likely get me away with it. If I killed a second man, it was doubtful it would.
By the time I’d finished putting Jericho to bed and returned to the house, Laura had changed into jeans and a T-shirt and was sitting in the living room with a white-faced Dan. Brogan sat opposite them and Peters had taken the adjacent armchair and was scribbling away in his notebook.
‘Shouldn’t you be in hospital?’ I asked Dan as I walked in.
‘I’m fine.’
‘You don’t look it.’
Laura stared at me. ‘How about you? They told us you were dead.’
‘They’re going to wish I was,’ I said, glaring at Brogan. ‘They have my wife. What are you doing about it?’
‘We have men and cars combing the area,’ he said. ‘Can you tell me what happened? Laura has no recollection until she came to in the back of Walters’ Land Rover.’
I didn’t sit. I wouldn’t be able to stay still. I began to pace. ‘There was something in the chicken dish we had for dinner. It was too sweet for my taste, so I didn’t eat more than a mouthful.’
‘I wondered how you weren’t affected,’ Laura said.
‘So the servants were in on it?’
I know my expression turned mean. ‘Up to their armpits,’ I said. ‘The stable hand shot me with a rifle.’
Peters looked up from his notebook. Pencil poised mid-air. ‘Shot you?’ his expression doubtful.
‘Yes,’ I snapped. ‘Shot me. I’m black and blue underneath my shirt.’
He scowled at me. ‘How come you aren’t dead, then?’
I pulled open my jacket to show them the holster. ‘I was carrying a very large knife. Fortunately for me the bullet hit it.’
‘You were carrying a concealed weapon?’ Peters said.
I gave him a cold stare. ‘Yes, and just you try and make something of it and we might have to have a conversation about Miss Simmons’ protection, or lack of it.’
‘We found a lot of blood in the clearing – whose was it?’ Brogan interrupted, sensing his sergeant might be about to become embroiled in an argument he wouldn’t be able to win.
‘Funnily enough I didn’t ask his name, but he was about to harm my wife. I couldn’t let it happen.’
He gave a grunt. ‘Did you recognise anyone? Miss Simmons and Mr Crouchley said they were wearing masks.’
I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was taking too long. I needed to be out there looking for Emma and trying to get her away from those lunatics. ‘Mr and Mrs Walters were with the stable hand who shot me. I don’t know his name.’ I glanced at Dan. ‘It was the lad you said was a bit slack – it appears you were wrong about him.’ He didn’t react. ‘Dan? The stable hand – what’s his name?’
He blinked. ‘Sebastien,’ Dan said, his voice a dull monotone. ‘Sebastien Berkley.’
I frowned and crouched down to look at his face. I put my fingers beneath his chin and tilted his head. ‘You need to get him to hospital,’ I said. ‘He could be concussed.’
‘So, you’re a doctor now,’ Peters sneered.
I stood and turned on him. ‘Phone a fucking ambulance, you moron, before you end up needing medical attention too.’
‘I’m OK,’ Dan mumbled.
Brogan got to his feet and grabbed my arm. ‘Take it easy,’ he said. ‘We’re not the bad guys.’
‘You have a mole,’ I told him, still glaring at Peters. ‘They knew you were coming before we heard the sirens. And whose idea was that anyway? Talk about a giveaway.’
‘That was a mistake.’ His eyes flashed in Peters’ direction, before his attention returned to me. ‘A mole? Impossible.’
‘Someone phoned them, the men in masks,’ Laura piped up. ‘I saw one of them answer their mobile and then they whispered something to …’ She looked at me, her eyes huge. ‘Was he my grandfather? You called him Oliver.’
‘Oliver Pomeroy?’ Brogan asked.
‘It couldn’t have been,’ Peters said. ‘He’s dead.’
I was getting mighty pissed off with his snide comments. ‘And so will you be if you don’t phone for an ambulance.’
‘Do it,’ Brogan said.
‘But—’
‘Now.’
The sergeant’s face fell into a disgruntled glower, but he got to his feet and strode out of the room, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went.
‘I’d watch him if I were you,’ I said.
‘He’s a good officer,’ Brogan said.
‘You have a mole and I don’t like him.’
Brogan ignored my comment and turned to Laura. ‘What’s this about Oliver Pomeroy?’
She shook her head, her expression thoroughly miserable. ‘You’ll have to ask Jed.’
Giving the impression I was the last person he wanted to talk to, he turned his attention back to me. ‘Oliver Pomeroy is dead.’
‘I’m afraid not. I think you’ll find the body you have belongs to his brother Edward.’
‘You think Oliver Pomeroy killed his own brother?’
‘It’s beginning to look that way.’
‘But why?’
‘You’d have to ask him, but from what Simon said when we last saw him, he believed Edward might have killed Oliver’s first wife, Constance. It wasn’t long after she died that Edward was put away. Knowing what I know now it makes sense. It was Oliver who brought Edward home. It was Oliver who changed his will only days before he allegedly died. It was Oliver who in his will insisted Laura move in before the month’s end.’
Brogan jerked his head towar
ds the chair he’d recently vacated. I scowled at him, then thought ‘What the hell?’ and flopped down in the armchair opposite Dan and Laura. He took the matching chair. I was beginning to really worry about Dan. His usually tanned complexion was the colour of rancid milk and his eyes were sagging shut. ‘Where’s the ambulance?’ I said.
‘Peters has called for one.’
‘He better have. Laura’ – I noticed she was clinging onto Dan’s hand – ‘talk to him. Don’t let him drift off.’
She swallowed and swivelled around on the couch to half-face him. ‘Dan,’ she said, touching his cheek. ‘Dan, wake up. You have to stay awake.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Dan? Dan, can you hear me?’
‘Brogan, he needs medical attention – now.’
The policeman heaved himself out of the chair. ‘I’ll go and check Peters has made the call.’
As soon as he’d left the room, I went to crouch down in front of Dan again. I rested my palm on his forehead and it was clammy to the touch.
His eyes flickered open. ‘I’m OK – really.’
The door opened and Brogan came hurrying back in with a young policewoman in tow.
‘Can you deal with him until the paramedics arrive?’
She gave a nod and Brogan gestured with his head that I go with him. ‘WPC Sanders used to be a paramedic before she joined the force,’ he said, leading me from the room.
‘Where’s Peters?’
He glanced around the hallway and drew me into a corner. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘He’s gone. Sanders saw him walk straight out the front door after leaving us.’
‘Did he make the call?’
Brogan’s lips pressed together in a thin line. ‘He was on the phone, but she didn’t think it was to the ambulance service. I phoned them, so they are on their way.’
‘If something happens to Dan …’
He grimaced. ‘I know. It’s down to me.’
I glowered at him. ‘I need to find my wife.’
‘We’re doing all we can.’
‘Are you? If your mate Peters has anything to do with it, probably nothing is being done at all.’
He stared at me for the count of three during which I could see the realisation dawn that I could possibly be right about his right-hand man.
‘How long has he been your sergeant?’ I asked.
‘Three months,’ he said automatically, his mind still churning it over. ‘He was new. Transferred in. Oh shit.’ He ran a hand over his face. ‘You think …?’
‘All I know is he came and spoke to Laura and you didn’t know a thing about it, someone alerted Oliver and his people to you lot being on your way and as soon as you were in the vicinity sirens and blue flashing lights announced your arrival.’ I paused, remembering. ‘Also, someone has been a little free and easy with police files.’
Brogan frowned at me. ‘Files that were in Simon Pomeroy’s possession?’ and his sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on me.
He was right. Simon could quite easily organise a mole within the police force, I would imagine. But why would he? And again I wondered what he’d been thinking when he’d asked me to get involved.
‘I think Simon Pomeroy might have been playing a game,’ Brogan said, reflecting my thoughts exactly. ‘Perhaps he invited you here because he thought you and your wife would provide him with some kind of alibi.’
Except this wasn’t why he invited me to Kingsmead; he’d invited me because he wanted me to find out the truth. I couldn’t tell Brogan this, he would never believe me and someone in the local police force was dirty, but who? I didn’t like Peters, he was an arrogant prick and he had disappeared, but I still had niggling doubts about Brogan. He had been sleeping with the enemy and if Simon had been having him followed it was for a reason.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
We were interrupted by the ambulance arriving to take Dan away. Laura insisted on going with him and I hoped this wasn’t a mistake, though better she was in a hospital full of people than at Kingsmead. Also, as guilty as it made me feel, I’d rather she was out of my hair. I couldn’t protect her and search for Emma.
Brogan had his back to me and was on his mobile when I returned from seeing Laura and Dan off in the ambulance. He was talking quickly and in a low voice. It was almost as though he sensed me entering the room, as he glanced over his shoulder and, upon seeing me, said a curt goodbye and pocketed his phone.
‘I hope you’ve sent a few officers to the hospital,’ I said.
He gave me a frosty look. ‘Believe it or not, my men have better things to do than babysit Miss Simmons and her boyfriend.’
‘He’s not her boyfriend,’ I snapped.
I was rewarded by a snort of laughter. ‘Yeah, right. She was clinging onto his hand like she was.’
I ignored him, mainly because, although I hated to admit it, he was probably right about the two of them. ‘Someone has just made an attempt on her life.’
His shoulders slumped and he ran a hand through his unruly mop of hair. ‘I’ve sent two men to the hospital – satisfied?’
I grunted a begrudging ‘Thank you,’ but I wasn’t so easily placated. ‘Any news on where Oliver and his people have all cluttered off to?’
‘I told you, I have men combing the countryside. They can’t get far.’
‘Then why haven’t they found any of them? They had two injured to slow them down.’ I glared at him. ‘They were slap bang in the middle of the estate – with nowhere to go.’
‘Maybe they had other vehicles parked somewhere.’
It made sense I supposed. ‘I’m going back out there,’ I said.
He shook his head, raising the palm of his hand and stepping in front of me. ‘No way. The forest is out of bounds for the time being. It’s a crime scene.’
‘They – have – my – wife!’ I said, only just stopping myself from grabbing him by the collar and shouting it in his face.
‘I think you need to calm down.’
I glowered at him and I could feel my face growing hot. ‘Don’t you dare tell me to calm down. Oliver fucking Pomeroy is as psycho as his brother and he has my wife. I need to find him.’
For a moment I thought I saw a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes. ‘I—’ He didn’t get to finish whatever it was he was about to say as a young PC came hurrying in, his breathing ragged like he’d been running and even in the warm light of the living room his complexion had a sickly hue to it.
‘Sir,’ he said, licking his very pale lips, and Brogan turned away from me with a sigh.
‘Constable?’
The PC glanced back into the hallway and, taking the hint, Brogan followed him outside. I watched them through the doorway. There was a hurried conversation during which Brogan glanced my way a couple of times. His face had creased into a deep frown by the time they had finished.
‘Good work,’ I heard him say and the constable strode off, his colour only slightly better than when he’d arrived, and my chest went tight. I’d seen the look before many times, usually when a young colleague had seen his first death, whether it had been by his own hands or another’s.
Brogan stood in the hallway, his hands rammed into his pockets and his eyes on me. I wasn’t sure I liked his expression, but it wasn’t one of a man about to give another devastating news, at least I didn’t think so. His stare was contemplative and I had the impression I was being assessed. Then it occurred to me that as much as I didn’t trust him, it was very possible he felt exactly the same way about me. After all, I was a friend of the Pomeroys.
He took his hands from his pockets and slowly walked back into the room. I tried to keep my expression neutral. It was hard when all I could think of was Emma and what might be happening to her. ‘We’ve found two bodies,’ he said.
The room gave a lurch and I sucked in breath, my chest tight and my heart feeling like it was slowing to a stop. I opened my mouth, trying to speak, to say her name, but th
e words wouldn’t come.
‘The two men you injured,’ he said, ‘they were obviously a hindrance.’
I breathed out and my heart began to beat again.
‘They’d both had their throats cut.’ His lips twisted in distaste.
‘Jesus.’ I sank down into one of the armchairs.
‘We’ve found how they made their escape. There’s another track on the far side of the woodland. Have you any idea where they might go?’
I tried to think. ‘Not that I know of. Simon has a place in Sussex, but as far as I’m aware Oliver has always lived here in Kingsmead.’
‘I suppose there’s no point me suggesting you go home or move into a hotel.’ I just stared at him. ‘I thought not. I’ll leave a couple of uniforms here and’ – he glanced at his watch – ‘I’ll be back in a few hours’ time. In the meantime, you should try and get some sleep.’
‘How do you expect me to sleep?’ I asked. ‘He’s had two of his own men killed because they were slowing him down. He’s not going to think twice about killing my wife if she does the same.’
‘He took her for a reason.’ His eyes narrowed and he stared into space before refocusing on my face. ‘So, we’ll have to assume he will try and contact you.’
‘He won’t have much luck,’ I said, my shoulders sagging. ‘My phone was in my breast pocket when I was shot. It’s a mangled mess.’
‘In which case he’ll probably try phoning you here.’
‘Are you mad? He’ll know the place is crawling with you lot.’
He shrugged. ‘Well, he’ll try and contact you somehow, otherwise what’s the point?’
