by James Raven
He pushed at the door with his fingertips and it opened a few more inches.
‘Hello,’ he called out. ‘Is anyone here?’
No response. No sound from within. He felt a knot tighten in his throat. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it in his blood.
He stood on the threshold and shone the torch into the small, square hallway. Polished wood floor. Small occasional table with an empty vase on top. A flight of stairs.
In the silence he could hear his own breathing, shallow and quick. He felt his heart pounding beneath his shirt.
‘Is anyone here?’ he called again.
When he got no answer a cold chill slid over him. Did it mean the house was empty or was there someone inside lurking in the dark? It was all a bit odd. No vehicles outside. No lights on inside. And yet the door was open.
He stepped inside and called out again. He heard nothing back but the taut, static hum of silence.
He located the light switch and snapped it on. Waited a few seconds to see what would happen and nothing did.
There were three closed doors ahead of him and he went to the one on the far left. It gave access to the living room. As he stepped inside and switched on the overhead light, his whole body stiffened, as though he’d been nudged with a cattle prod.
The room had been ransacked. It was a total mess. The floor was littered with broken picture frames, books, plants and cushions from two small sofas. He spotted a smashed-up handset from a cordless phone and a large pot plant on its side, soil and water pooled on the carpet around it.
But not everything had been trashed. An expensive-looking flat-screen TV was still on its stand and below it a Sky digital box. There was also a cabinet against one wall and on top of it, a collection of bottles containing various spirits.
Temple stepped back into the hallway and tried another door. This one led to the kitchen and there was more carnage. Drawers and cupboards had been pulled open and their contents emptied on the floor.
As Temple surveyed the damage he took a long, deep breath and expelled it. Then he moved back into the hallway and opened the third door. A small study with a desk, a couple of tall metal filing cabinets and a floor to ceiling bookcase across one wall. Most of the books were on the floor along with the files from the cabinets. On the desk there were cables running from a wall socket and a printing machine. But the computer or laptop they’d been attached to was missing.
Temple shook his head and clenched his bottom lip between his teeth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so much vandalism inflicted on a property. He would call it in and get a forensic team out here as quickly as possible. Hopefully the vandal or vandals had left behind a fingerprint or DNA trace.
But as he was reaching in his pocket for his phone he heard something. The sound had come from above. A creaking floorboard. Quite loud and quite distinctive.
He realized he wasn’t alone in the house and froze.
There was someone upstairs.
10
Temple took out his phone, only to find that he didn’t have a signal. It didn’t surprise him. Large areas of the forest were in so-called mobile dark spots and out of range of the relay towers.
He cursed because it left him facing the dilemma of what to do now that he couldn’t summon back-up. If he went outside, the chances were he still wouldn’t receive a signal and if he went further afield, the intruder would make a run for it.
He decided to front it out in the hope that he was dealing with an opportunistic burglar who’d be too scared to resist when confronted by the police.
‘I know you’re up there,’ Temple called out. ‘I’m a detective with Hampshire police and I suggest you come down right now. More police officers will be here any minute.’
Nothing. The silence screamed in his ears, and he felt a flash of heat in his chest.
He decided he needed something he could use to defend himself, just in case the intruder was armed. He stepped back into the kitchen and eyed a selection of knives scattered across the floor. He was tempted, but he picked up a wooden rolling pin instead because he didn’t want to risk inflicting a serious or fatal stab wound during a tussle.
Then he moved back into the hallway and cautiously ascended the stairs. Every nerve in his body was vibrating and he felt his chest contract like a fist.
Halfway up the stairs, he paused to call out again and this time he was sure he heard movement above him. But no one appeared and this only served to quicken his pulse.
At the top of the stairs he switched on the landing light. There were three doors, all half-open. It suddenly occurred to him that he was taking a huge risk. He had no idea who or what he was about to confront. He was strongly tempted to go back downstairs and out to his car. But the reckless streak that had all too often clouded his judgement urged him on.
He held the rolling pin in front of him as he moved towards the door to his left. It was a bathroom and as he peered inside, he saw that it was empty.
He backed up along the landing to another half-open doorway. Through it he could see the bottom end of a bed.
He placed a hand against the door and gently pushed at it as he stepped forwards. But suddenly there was a heavy thud and the door swung back against him with tremendous force, hurling him face-down on to the landing carpet. He heard footfalls behind him, but before he could react he took a brutal kick to the ribs. As he cried out, a second blow struck him on the right side of his face. The pain was explosive and water filled his eyes. But he managed to roll up against the wall and brace himself for another blow.
And that’s when he saw his attacker, staring down at him through the slits of a black balaclava. The build and posture told him it was a man, an impression reinforced by the tight polo sweater and jeans. But that was about all Temple could take in before the guy let loose another vicious kick.
This time he was ready and raised both arms to protect his face. The guy’s shoe struck the open palm of his right hand and he was able to push against it, causing the guy to lose his balance. Temple scrambled to his feet and hurled himself at the guy. He pushed him across the landing and they both went crashing down the stairs like a pair of grappling stuntmen.
They got separated halfway down, but it was Temple who came off worse, landing on his back with one leg twisted painfully beneath him. The other guy recovered more quickly and kicked out frantically before Temple could right himself.
The heel of the man’s shoe slammed against the detective’s crotch with what felt like the force of a jack-hammer. Temple was battered and bruised and his senses were on fire. He tried desperately to haul himself up, but a gloved hand grabbed the back of his neck and rammed his head against the wall.
The blow rendered him helpless and his body went limp. As he hit the floor again, his vision grew dark and he felt himself slipping towards unconsciousness.
But he clung on long enough to hear his attacker walk up the stairs and come back down again seconds later. Then he managed to force his eyes open as the guy walked past him to the front door. He was still wearing the balaclava, but now he was carrying a black rucksack over one shoulder. He paused at the door to look back and Temple tried to say something, but couldn’t form the words. The man then walked out and Temple groaned as the darkness consumed him.
11
Temple knew he was awake because of the pain. It throbbed with a savage intensity, and not just inside his head. He could feel it in his chest, his shoulders, his stomach, his limbs. Even his face hurt as he struggled to open his eyes.
He was still lying on the floor in Grant Mason’s hallway. His attacker had left the front door open and the cold air was creeping in.
As Temple heaved himself up to a sitting position, he was struck by a wave of dizziness, the likes of which he had never experienced. His heart was hammering, blood pumping round his body. For a moment he thought he was going to pass out again. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. Thankfully, the feeling pass
ed after a few seconds.
Then he cursed himself for having been so stupid. He should never have ventured up the stairs knowing there was someone up there. It had been impulsive and unprofessional. He’d walked into a trap and he was lucky not to be more seriously injured.
Not that he could be sure what damage had been done. He might well have concussion and a couple of broken ribs.
Jesus.
He checked his watch. Eight thirty. He’d only been unconscious for a few minutes. He checked his phone. Still no bars showing.
He pulled himself up from the floor and shuffled across the hallway and out the front door. The frigid air helped to clear his head and he drew it deep into his lungs.
He was relieved to see that his car was still there. No sign of the man in the balaclava, though. He was long gone.
Temple tried his mobile again, but he was still out of range. He got in the car, started the engine, did a U-turn in front of the house. Then he drove back along the track while holding his phone in front of him.
At the end of the track he finally got a signal. He stopped the car and called 999. Told the operator who he was and what had happened.
‘And make sure you alert my team,’ he said before hanging up.
Thirty minutes later, the cavalry started to converge on Grant Mason’s house. Three patrol cars, an ambulance and a fast-response vehicle with armed officers. The night was suddenly a riot of flashing lights and police radio chatter.
Temple was checked by a paramedic as officers swarmed over the property and ventured into the surrounding woodland with torches.
He had a lump the size of a walnut on his head and a nasty bruise on his right cheek just below the eye. Nothing appeared to be broken, but he was advised to go to hospital just to be sure. He said he would, but not right away, so he was given pain-killers and a cold compress for his head.
DS Vaughan was the first of his team to arrive on the scene. He looked tired and dishevelled, and explained that he’d only just got home when he received the call. DC Marsh drew up in her car a few minutes later, looking more worried than tired.
Rather than repeat himself, Temple got everyone together in front of the house to tell them what had happened and why he was here. Vaughan’s reaction was typically blunt. He called his boss a bloody idiot for confronting the intruder by himself.
‘You don’t have to tell me that,’ Temple said. ‘I should have known better.’
Temple was told that patrols were driving around the area stopping cars, and teams on foot were searching the nearby village of East Boldre. A helicopter had been summoned and would soon be doing a night-vision sweep of the surrounding countryside.
‘There were no cars here when I arrived,’ Temple said. ‘So the intruder must have fled through the woods or along the track. He either had a vehicle parked nearby or he lives in the village.’
He described the guy as best he could and said they were unlikely to find his prints because he’d been wearing gloves.
‘I was still conscious when he walked out,’ he said. ‘He was carrying a rucksack. My guess is it contained Grant Mason’s laptop which is missing from his office desk. I have no idea what else might have been in there.’
‘So on the face of it, we’re dealing with a straightforward burglary that went wrong,’ Vaughan said. ‘The perp got disturbed and panicked. He resorted to violence in his bid to get away, even though you identified yourself as a police officer.’
Temple bit his lip. ‘Either that or he was looking for something specific. And we have to consider the possibility that the break-in is connected in some way to what Mason said to his PA.’
‘Does she really have no clue as to why he wanted her to burn this place down?’ Vaughan said.
‘None whatsoever. She was shocked. And she didn’t get a chance to ask him about it when they got to the hospital.’
‘So how do you want us to play it, guv, assuming we don’t catch the guy tonight?’
‘We start by sealing the property off until morning,’ Temple said. ‘At first light I want a forensic team brought in to carry out a thorough search. Once the place is tidied up I’ll get Hilary Dyer to come over. Hopefully, she can help us determine what’s missing. Meanwhile, the office can check out Mason’s email and bank accounts. See if anything interesting comes up. And we need to canvas everyone in the village to see if anyone saw a guy with a rucksack.’
‘So is this officially our case, boss?’ Marsh asked.
‘It is for now, but we’ll see how it pans out.’
Temple suddenly felt dizzy and a wave of nausea washed over him. It was time he went to the hospital. But he had to be persuaded not to drive himself there. The paramedic insisted he went by ambulance so Marsh said she’d arrange for his car to be taken to his house.
On the way to the hospital he called Angel. She was understandably shocked to hear about the attack. He assured her that it was nothing serious and that he’d be home as soon as he’d been checked over.
He spent two hours at the hospital. They ran a bunch of checks and did x-rays and a CT scan. It turned out his ribs were still intact and the blows to his head had not caused any serious damage.
He got home at almost one in the morning and Angel was waiting up for him. She fell into his arms as soon as he walked through the door and he could feel her shaking beneath her dressing gown.
‘Are you all right?’ she said. ‘God, I’ve been worried sick.’
He put her mind at ease regarding his condition. Then he poured himself a much needed whisky and closed his eyes as it burned a track down the back of his throat.
Angel sat next to him on the sofa and he told her everything that had happened in more detail. She looked tired and anxious. Her short brown hair was still wet from a shower and the whites of her eyes were shiny and moist in the lamplight.
‘I can’t believe you didn’t call for back-up,’ she said. ‘What you did was crazy.’
He was taken aback by the harsh tone of her voice.
‘There was no mobile signal. I couldn’t …’
‘Then you should have left the house,’ she cut in. ‘What if the guy had been armed with a knife or a gun? You might have been killed.’
‘OK, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I made the wrong call. We’ve all done it.’
A brief flash of anger in her eyes and the muscles in her neck tightened.
‘You just don’t get it do you, Jeff?’ she said, her voice becoming high-pitched. ‘You’re no longer by yourself. You’re with me and that means what you do and say will impact on my life. You can’t take unnecessary risks anymore.’
Tears filled her eyes and she started to blink rapidly.
‘Calm down, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘It was a mistake. I get that. But there’s no need to go overboard. I’m going to be fine.’
She clenched her jaw and her spine went rigid.
‘You were just lucky,’ she shouted at him. ‘Don’t you see that? You might not be here now if the blows to your head had been any harder.’
She started to cry and when he reached out to her, she brushed his hand away.
He didn’t know what to say. He was confused because Angel didn’t usually allow herself to be overcome by emotion. Maybe she’d had a bad day and what had happened had been the last straw.
‘Listen, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘I do understand where you’re coming from and in future I promise to be more careful and more responsible. But be honest with me now. Is something else bothering you? You said earlier that you wanted to talk to me. Has it got anything to do with that?’
She took her hands away from her face and regained control of her sobbing. Then she lifted her head and stared at him, her swollen eyes shining with unshed tears.
‘I didn’t mean for it to happen, Jeff,’ she said. ‘It’s just that – I slipped up.’
His jaw dropped and he felt a flare of unease.
‘What are you talking about?’ he said.
She took a
deep, shaky breath and let the air hiss out between her teeth.
‘I’m nine weeks pregnant, Jeff,’ she said. ‘The doctor confirmed it today.’
Neither of them went to bed. They stayed awake talking as the new day broke over Southampton.
Temple was reeling from the shock of what he’d been told, which compounded the relentless pain in his head. A baby had never been part of the plan. Angel had always maintained that she didn’t want children, preferring instead to concentrate on her career. It was a decision that Temple had been happy to go along with. He had a daughter and at forty-eight he wasn’t keen to embark on another stint of fatherhood.
In hindsight, he should have had a vasectomy and not relied on Angel to always remember to take the pill. She said there’d been a couple of times just before the crash when she forgot. And now she was pregnant and telling him that she was sorry.
He told her not to be and that if she wanted to keep the baby then that was fine with him. But of course it wasn’t really. The future they’d mapped out for themselves did not include children. They were going to have fun, be selfish, spoil each other rotten. But a baby would change things and have a profound impact on their relationship. He was almost fifty and he just couldn’t imagine being a father at an age when most men are grandfathers.
Angel was just as worried and confused. She said as much. But he could tell from the look in her eyes that she was also excited at the prospect. And that was only natural, despite what she’d said about her career coming first.
Temple struggled to process the news. His head was muddy, as though he was trying to think through treacle.
‘Look, I’ll take the day off,’ he said. ‘We can both get some sleep and then we can talk about it some more when we’re not so tired.’
‘You shouldn’t be going to work anyway in your condition,’ Angel said. ‘You need to rest.’
‘Well, let me call the office and then we can go back to bed for a while. How does that sound?’
She smiled at him. ‘Very sensible.’
But Temple’s phone buzzed just as he got up to make the call. It was DS Vaughan who had been at Grant Mason’s house with the forensic team since the crack of dawn.
