Dark Peak

by Adam J. Wright

  That last part was easy. Mitch had no desire to go back into the house and would be glad when Sunday arrived and he left it for the final time.

  6

  Battle

  The police arrived half an hour later but not in a patrol car. Instead, the vehicle that came rolling up the drive and crunching over the gravel was a green Range Rover. A man in a light brown trench coat and tweed hat got out of the driver’s side and came running over to the Jeep, his body stooped, one hand pressing his hat to his head is if he were exiting a helicopter. When he got to Mitch’s window, he made a winding signal with his free hand. Mitch was already opening the window. It buzzed down, letting in the rain.

  “I’m DCI Stewart Battle,” the man said, fishing his warrant card from the pocket of his coat and showing it to Mitch. “Are you the gentleman who reported the break-in?”

  “That’s right.” Mitch guessed the policeman to be in his late fifties. He had a weather-worn face and a bushy salt-and-pepper moustache.

  “Just wait here, sir,” Battle said. “DS Morgan and I will check the property and make sure it’s safe.” He turned to a dark-haired young woman who was getting out of the Range Rover and gestured for her to follow him into the house. She did so.

  When they’d both disappeared inside, Leigh asked, “Are they the police?”

  Mitch nodded. “I was expecting a uniformed officer but those two are detectives. A Detective Chief Inspector and Detective Sergeant.” It seemed like a waste of resources to send two detectives to check out a break-in. Maybe that was what happened when you were lord of the manor; the police pulled out all the stops.

  Battle appeared at the front door ten minutes later and waved that all was clear.

  When Mitch and Leigh joined the two detectives in the foyer, Battle gave them a short-lived smile. “All clear, sir. I’ll get a forensic officer out here to take fingerprints. There might be something useable on the door or perhaps upstairs where it looks like they spent the most time. Now, if you can tell us what’s been stolen, we can see about catching whoever did this.” He took out a small black notebook and flipped it open.

  “I have no idea what’s missing,” Mitch said. “We’ve only just arrived here.”

  Battle nodded slowly. “I see. Well, we can ask Mrs. Jenkins about that, I suppose.”

  “Mrs. Jenkins?” Mitch asked.

  “The housekeeper,” Battle said. “You are Mitchell Walker, correct? Son of Michael Walker?”

  Mitch nodded. “I am.”

  “Your father employed a housekeeper. Mrs. Lily Jenkins. She’ll be able to tell us if anything has gone missing. In the meantime, what I find interesting about this break-in is what the thieves didn’t take.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” Mitch told him.

  “Well, the television is still in the living room. The keys to your father’s Land Rover are hanging up by the back door but the vehicle is still in the garage. There’s even some cash lying around. What thief would leave cash behind?”

  “They must have taken something,” Mitch said. “Otherwise, why did they go to the trouble of breaking in?”

  Battle’s grey eyes looked at Leigh, then back at Mitch. “Mr. Walker, would you mind if DS Morgan took your daughter into the living room to watch television for a while?”

  “No, that’s fine.” Mitch turned to Leigh. “Is that okay with you?”

  Leigh nodded.

  The Detective Sergeant smiled at her and said, “My name’s Lorna. Shall we go and see if we can find anything good on the TV?”

  Leigh nodded again and followed her through the door that led to the living room. Mitch heard her telling the DS, “I’ve got a friend called Laura. Her name sounds like yours but I think Lorna is nicer.”

  Battle turned to Mitch. “If you could come with me upstairs, sir, there are some clues regarding the thieves’ motive for breaking in.” He went to the staircase and Mitch followed. They ascended to the next floor and Battle led Mitch along a long hallway to an open door. “We’ve checked the other rooms,” he said. “Most of them are empty. The thieves went through your father’s bedroom but there wasn’t much in there apart from a bedside table, a wardrobe, and a bed. It seems the room they were most interested in was this one, your father’s office.”

  The room contained a large polished mahogany desk, and an executive-type leather chair sat by the window. Bookshelves ran along one side of the office but the books had been scattered onto the floor, revealing a safe built into the wall. The safe door had been attacked with a drill and bore three small circular holes.

  “Total amateurs,” Battle said. “It isn’t exactly a top-notch safe but they still couldn’t get in, even with a drill and all the time in the world. Of course, by the time they drilled the third hole, they must have realised they were wasting their time anyway.” He pointed at the safe door. “Have a look in there.”

  Mitch went over to the safe and put his eye to one of the holes. The light coming in through the other two holes was enough to make out what was inside. Nothing. The safe was empty.

  “The usual method of drilling a safe is to make one hole and use a precision instrument to open the door,” Battle said. “Whoever did this had no idea what they were doing. Perhaps they drilled the other two holes just to see what was inside.” He chuckled. “I’d like to have seen their faces when they discovered it was empty.”

  “What do you think they were looking for?” Mitch asked.

  “I don’t know but it was something specific, something that they thought would be in this safe. And it must have been of more value to them than the things they ignored like the television, the Land Rover, and the cash. Not to mention the paintings on the walls that I’m sure would fetch a pretty penny.” He sighed. “This makes me wonder if we should reopen the investigation into your father’s death. At the time, we couldn’t find any evidence of foul play, but this”—he indicated the safe—“makes me think we might have missed something.”

  Mitch realised he had no idea how his father had died. At first, when John Mercer had rung him, he hadn’t wanted to know, but now the detective’s words were piquing his interest. “There was an investigation into my father’s death? Was that because he died in suspicious circumstances?”

  “We didn’t think so at the time,” Battle said. He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You do know how he died, don’t you?”

  Mitch shook his head.

  Without answering, Battle left the room and walked back along the hallway and down the stairs. Mitch followed.

  When they were both standing in the foyer, Battle pointed up at the landing they had just descended from. “Your father fell down the stairs from the landing. We’re not sure if he wandered out from his bedroom during the night and tripped or if he was going up to bed and lost his footing. The housekeeper found him the following morning.” He pointed at the Persian rug. “If I were you, I wouldn’t move that rug, at least not while your daughter is around. The clean-up crew did the best they could but these old wooden floors tend to soak up liquid and there was a bit of blood.”

  “Understood,” Mitch said.

  Battle hesitated for a moment as if he were deciding whether to say something or not. At last, he said, “While we’re on the subject of hidden things, Mr. Walker, if you come across anything unusual, will you let me know?” He took a business card from his pocket and handed it to Mitch.

  Mitch frowned, confused. “What do you mean by unusual?”

  Battle shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure, to be honest. Look, I’ll be straight with you. Over the years, there have been a number of disappearances in this area. A couple of times, your father’s name came up as a person of interest. I’m not saying he had anything to do with the crimes we were investigating but, because of who he was and who he knew on the force, some leads weren’t looked into as deeply as they might have been otherwise. Those crimes were never solved.”

  “Disappearances?” Mitch said, “You mean like Sarah’s
disappearance? You think my father was involved somehow?”

  Battle held up his hands. “I’m talking about a number of crimes, some of which occurred before you or your sister were born.” He sighed. “I was only a young copper at the time and when I was told to leave something alone, I did so without question. But those kind of cases, the ones that go unsolved, tend to stick with you. You think about what might have been missed.”

  Mitch didn’t know what to think. Battle might be clutching at straws, trying to rectify some mistake from his past, or attempting to solve a case that got away, but without more information, Mitch couldn’t help the detective. And even though he’d hardly known his father, he wasn’t ready to accept that the man might have been a killer or a kidnapper or whatever it was that Battle was insinuating.

  “I can see you’re conflicted,” Battle said. “Forget I said anything. I’ll just get my DS and head back to the station.”

  “Fine,” Mitch said, sensing that some sort of barrier had descended between him and the detective.

  “DS Morgan, we’re leaving,” Battle shouted toward the living room door.

  Lorna Morgan appeared with Leigh close behind her. “I hope you enjoy your weekend,” she said to Leigh before following her boss to the front door.

  Before he stepped over the threshold and into the rain, Battle turned to Mitch. “We’ll probably never know what the thieves expected to find in that safe, Mr. Walker, but if you do find out, please call me. I don’t like unsolved mysteries.” He strode across the gravel and climbed into the Range Rover, DS Morgan in tow.

  Mitch watched them drive away and then turned to Leigh. She gave him a thin smile but he could see a worried look in her eyes.

  What the hell had he been thinking by bringing her here for the weekend? He should have taken her hiking somewhere closer to home, not brought her here, where the house had been violated and the blood stained the floor.

  “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Let’s find a nice hotel.”

  She brightened immediately and the fact that she would have stayed here without complaint even though she obviously hated the idea broke Mitch’s heart. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Very sure.”

  “Okay.” She was out the front door before Mitch had a chance to take the keys out of his pocket.

  As he was locking the door, he noticed the safe deposit box key on the ring. Battle had said they’d probably never know what the thieves had been looking for in the safe but maybe this key held the answer. Maybe Michael Walker had moved whatever items were in the safe to the box at the bank. If they were so valuable that someone was willing to break into the house to get them, it made sense.

  He got in the Jeep, where Leigh was waiting, playing a game on her iPad, not looking at the house. Feeling another pang of guilt that he’d brought her here, Mitch started the engine and followed the gravel path around the lawn to the track that led through the trees back to the main road.

  When they were on the track, he glanced at the house in the rear-view mirror. It sat silently in the storm, its unlit windows watching him leave like dark eyes.

  7

  Storm

  When Elly arrived at her Peak District accommodation, the sight of it was almost enough to douse the flames of frustration that had been burning inside her since leaving Birmingham. She’d left her house almost three hours ago, after eating a light lunch that consisted of a microwaved lasagne and a couple of pre-packaged green leaves that could hardly be called a salad.

  After wolfing down half of it and chucking the rest in the bin, she’d tossed her suitcase into the boot of her old Mini and set off north on the M6 Motorway. She’d found herself stuck in dawdling traffic almost immediately because there were miles of roadworks. Too late, she realised that the SatNav was guiding her onto the M6 Toll Road and she’d had to pay five pounds to continue her journey.

  After exiting the toll road, she’d been stuck in queuing traffic again thanks to more roadworks. And the whole time, her car was being pounded by the bloody incessant rain. The spray made it difficult to see the road ahead and she’d spent most of the time wiping the inside of the windscreen with tissues because the Mini had a condensation problem.

  When she’d finally left all that behind and hit the winding country roads, the SatNav had fallen off the windscreen and onto the passenger seat because of the condensation. Elly had stuck it back onto the glass but almost crashed into a hedge in the process.

  Her entire journey had been fraught with frustration but as she arrived at the place she’d be staying for the next two weeks, she told herself it had all been worth it.

  She’d expected Wollstonecraft Publishing to find a hotel for her to stay in, but instead, they’d rented a holiday cottage. It even had a name: Windrider Cottage. Situated on a hill overlooking the moors and totally isolated, it was exactly what Elly needed right now, somewhere to escape from the rest of the world for a while. There was a pub a few miles back down the road so she’d have somewhere to go if she felt like human interaction, but apart from that, she was going to be alone with her thoughts for the next fortnight.

  The cottage was quaint, built of white-painted stone with a neat little garden at the front behind a low iron fence. Elly parked the Mini on a paved area next to the gate and rushed through to the cottage’s front door, trying to reach the porch before the rain could soak her. There was a metal key safe on the wall and she punched in the combination she’d been given in an email from the cottage’s owner. After opening the safe and grabbing the shiny silver key inside, she unlocked the door and stepped into her new-found refuge from the outside world.

  The first thing she noticed was that the place smelled fresh. That was always a plus. A door on the left opened into the living room, which had a stone fireplace, TV, and a plush-looking sofa and easy chair. On the opposite side of the entrance hallway, there was a dining room equipped with a table and four seats as well as a bookcase filled with paperback novels and board games. A set of narrow steps led up to the bedrooms.

  Elly walked past these rooms to the rear of the cottage where the kitchen was situated. It was a modest size but more than big enough for her, and the view from the large window over the sink took her breath away.

  There was a small, unremarkable, lawn but the cottage didn’t need anything fancy back there because beyond the lawn, the hill sloped away and offered a stunning view of the moors and peaks. Elly was a city girl through and through, having lived in places like Manchester, London, and Birmingham all her life, but at that moment, she wanted to go outside despite the rain and view the scenery without a barrier of rain-smeared glass separating her from the landscape. She wanted to be a part of it.

  To hell with it, she thought and went to the back door. The key was hanging on a hook on the wall. Elly took it and opened the door, stepping out into the pouring rain. She walked across the lawn, sliding on the wet grass because her trainers had no tread on their soles, until she reached the slope of the hill. She stood there, drinking in the view.

  If anyone had asked her what a moor would look like from the top of a hill, she’d have said it would look dull, coloured brown and dark green with nothing to break up the visual monotony. But the moor that stretched out before her now was anything but dull. As well a mixture of emerald green and coffee brown grass, there were mauve-coloured patches of fern and dark shadows beneath lone trees that seemed to be standing in a roiling sea as the wind blew the tops of the long grasses this way and that. Pools of real water scintillated beneath the thick storm clouds, reflecting various shades of the grey and blue sky.

  Clouds and mist obscured the peaks of the hills, shrouding them in mystery. Elly wanted to climb up into the haze and hide within it as if it were a protective cloak.

  She’d never felt a part of anything as strongly as she felt a part of the wild landscape before her. The rain lashed against her face, stinging her, but she welcomed it, imagining that it was washing away her features
in the same way that it had eroded and shaped the tall hills.

  Her phone rang, bringing her out of the spell the landscape had cast on her. Elly cursed, feeling suddenly cold as she realised the rain had soaked through her T-shirt and jeans. Heading back inside, she pulled the phone out of her pocket and saw the word MUM on the screen. She hadn’t told her mum about the trip to Derbyshire but had no doubt that Jen had told her everything.

  She almost regretted calling her sister last night and telling her of her plans to visit the Peak District because now her mum would be calling to find out more details. There was nothing she liked more than talking to Elly about her life so she could tut in disappointment or simply say, “Well if that’s what you think is best, dear,” in a way that said it wasn’t what she thought was best. Not at all.

  Jen was spared their mother’s disappointment, of course. She could do no wrong because she had a husband and two kids and as far as their mum was concerned, that was what a woman should aspire to. Elly didn’t begrudge her sister because she’d rather live life her own way, even if it meant she had to put up with disapproving comments every now and again.

  She answered the phone. “Hi, Mum.”

  “Elly, can you hear me? Jen tells me the publishers are sending you to Derbyshire on some fool’s errand. What’s it all about, dear? Perhaps you shouldn’t go.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Elly said, “I’m already there.”

  “Oh dear.” Her mother sounded as if she’d just learned of the death of her closest friend.

  It’s fine, Mum.” Elly brushed her wet hair away from her face and walked through the cottage to the front door. She went out to the car and, with the phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, retrieved her suitcase from the boot. “And what do you mean by fool’s errand?” she said as she re-entered the cottage and placed the suitcase on the dining room table.