by Penny Grubb
‘… must have had a car down there,’ she heard one of them say.
‘Yeah, well, we can …’ The voice disappeared, in the clanking of the fence panel being pulled aside.
Annie waited until she heard the car start up and pull away, the purr of its engine now marred by the rattle of something loose from its incursions into the wall and the iron sheeting. She forced herself to her feet, taking a shaky step forward to prise open a gap in the fence panel and tried to get a clear view of the car as it disappeared down the street, but it was gone.
She brushed herself down as well as she could and clambered back out on to the road. It felt horribly exposed on the street where they’d tried to run her down but it was the last place they’d expect her to be. Grimacing against a sharp pain that jarred her left leg on every footfall, she broke into a jog to get out of the narrow alley of buildings.
Maybe she should call Scott. She thought about his warning and about Jean who had herself been warned off by one of Scott’s colleagues. And what would she say? She’d seen nothing of the car or the people in it. She needed to know what was going on and Scott wasn’t the person to tell her. She needed to get to Barbara.
Barbara might not like her, but she’d provide the means to clean her up, and must surely now tell her the full story.
In half an hour, she was at Barbara’s front door, knocking loudly.
The door swung open and Annie faced a man she recognized as Barbara’s son.
‘Hello, I’m Annie. We met once a few years ago. I’m here to see Barbara. She’s expecting me. I called her a couple of …’
She felt her smile fade with her words. Even before the man spoke, Annie read his expression.
‘You haven’t heard,’ he said.
In a sudden rush, fluid gushed from Annie’s nose and she looked down to see blood, bright red, splash on to her jacket. She scrabbled in her pocket for a tissue and clamped it to her nose as his words came at her in fragments.
‘… in hospital … on her way to the shops … hit and run.’
CHAPTER 4
Annie ran cold water into the small sink and dunked her T-shirt, though the blood was dried in now. Leaving it to soak, she laid her jacket on the makeshift counter and sponged it down with a wet flannel.
Outside, dusk crept to the edges of the lorry park. Jean Greenhough’s car had disappeared over the rise, leaving Annie alone at the racecourse with access to a tiny bedroom and primitive facilities.
Jean had been horrified to see her; every exposed stretch of skin criss-crossed with scratches from the brambles, her forearm red raw from the rough tarmac, and dried blood down her front. Her arm ached and a multicoloured bruise spread out from above her elbow.
Within half an hour of leaving Barbara’s house, Annie had a call from Pat, telling her about Barbara’s accident; that she must stay on; the firm needed her.
She hadn’t let on she already knew, but asked after Barbara’s injuries – serious but not life threatening – then said no, she was on her way out of the city. Again, she wasn’t sure why she lied to Pat, but knew she needed the space to get her head together.
Jean Greenhough had offered her an out of the way place to stay that no one need know about, but before getting in touch with her, Annie had taken a circuitous route back to the Thompsons’ office, watching the road, the office doorway and the pedestrian traffic, before nerving herself to walk across and get in her car.
The men who’d chased her had seen her leave the office on foot. No reason they should know where her car was parked or which it was. Even if they had access to official records, they wouldn’t find her name attached to it. No one who worked for Pieternel was that easy to trace.
In case of tracking devices, she headed for the Clive Sullivan Way and the route west out of the city, stopping at a roadside garage to fill up and check the car over. Once as sure as she could be that it hadn’t been tampered with, she changed direction, rang Jean Greenhough and arranged to meet.
Now, here she was in the block that housed the grooms who stayed overnight when there were visiting racehorses in the adjoining stables. She was the only one, human or equine, in residence tonight. Her phone rang as she was rubbing at the material of her T shirt. The screen showed the Thompsons’ office number. Annie felt a rush of anger, not at Pat but at whoever had manoeuvred her into this position, and let the call ring through to voicemail.
Pat’s voice was impatient but distracted, flitting from topic to topic. ‘You’ve forgotten the damned keys … Ring me when you get this … Barbara’s out of action for weeks … Vince paying for you anyway … Your blasted copper badgering me …’ A heavy sigh, then a snapped, ‘I don’t see why you can’t just stay on,’ and the crash of the phone being slammed back into its rest.
Annie looked out across the lorry park, its edges now blurring into the fading light. She stretched her hands out in front of her, seeing the tremble in her fingers matching the shakiness she felt inside.
But there was one thing she was clear on. If someone was prepared to go to these lengths to force her out, then she was here to stay. She would find out what was going on, how it linked back to events in London and just who was pulling the strings.
As she curled up on a thin plank of a bed in a room that was little bigger than a cell, her mind skipped across her options. Who could tell her what she needed to know? Barbara … Pat … Scott … the mysterious Lance Mailers?
As sleep enveloped her, she wondered if she was right to trust Jean, a woman she’d met only twice.
Annie woke to a spear of light through the small window, making her screw up her face and shade her eyes. The morning sun painted glistening edges to the view from the window and as she stretched the night out of her limbs, grimacing slightly at the ache from the battering she’d taken, her phone began to ring.
The Thompsons’ office again and early for Pat. It was just after ten. But Annie was ready to speak to her.
‘Hi Pat. You’re up and about early.’
‘Well, of course I am. Barbara’s laid up and there’s no one else to do her work. Didn’t you get my message? I need you back here. What are you playing at, running out on us? And I’ll tell you something else; someone’s been through the files. I can’t cope with this lot on my own …’
Annie felt amazed. She was certain she’d been careful when she went through the office files. Pat must have sharpened up considerably to have noticed.
She pulled in a breath ready to speak as soon as Pat’s rant subsided. Her first task for the day was to contact the hotel, to make sure they’d had their advance payment so she could keep the room on, but warn them she might be an absent guest. There was no evidence anyone had tracked her there, but she must be careful. After that, she and Pat had to have a frank talk. They could meet this evening.
‘So?’ Pat continued to badger her. ‘When will you be back? There’s chaos here. I don’t even know what Babs was working on.’
On the point of telling Pat that, yes, she would be back; in fact had never left, the comment stopped Annie. I don’t even know what Babs was working on. Pat and Barbara had always run the business together, albeit at loggerheads, but Barbara was now involved in something Pat knew nothing about – something that had brought Annie all this way. What and why?
A connection sparked. Her mind reran her last conversation with Barbara.
I need to know what’s going on; why I’m here. The real reason.
Annie had rung from the office phone. Barbara had been at home.
Someone had heard them. The office phone was the more likely to have been tapped, but it could have been either or both.
‘Uh … no,’ she told Pat. ‘I’m afraid I can’t come back. I’m sure you can get someone from an agency. I have to go now. I’ll post the keys.’
She clicked off the phone, knowing she must get to Pat face to face, but how and where? She needed her on her own, without alerting any hidden watchers. It wouldn’t be easy.
&nb
sp; Her phone rang.
‘Don’t you hang up on me,’ Pat shouted. ‘You’ve been paid. I know you have.’
Annie clicked the phone off, right off, and went through to the tiny bathroom to get herself ready to meet Jean who was due … she glanced at the clock … in less than an hour.
It was dark as Annie eased her car to the kerb. She looked around at the blank faces of the buildings on either side, a shiver running through her as the previous day’s events echoed off the brick walls. This wasn’t a great place to leave a car overnight, but she would have to risk it. Satisfied that no one was about, she clicked open the door and stepped into the night air.
She pulled her woollen cap down over her hair and ears and pulled up the zip on her dark jacket. Soft black trainers would deaden the sound of her footsteps once she was away from the light breeze that was the only sound on the street.
The car’s indicators flashed with the click of the door locks, causing Annie to flinch at the way the vehicle advertised its presence. She walked down the pavement, keeping to the shadow until she reached a narrow alleyway between the buildings where the darkness pooled as the walls towered over her. She trod carefully here, braced for hidden obstructions, until the alley took a ninety-degree turn and showed the gleam of a streetlight from the road at the far end.
Out from the narrow path, Annie took a quick look up and down the street and headed for the Thompsons’ office. She unlocked the outer door and went inside.
Upstairs, she looked with distaste at the uncarpeted floor and the worn cushions in the only armchair. Letting out a sigh, she thought that at least it would shine a better light on the stark grooms’ billet where she would have to spend the next few nights.
Pat had rung half a dozen times during the day. Annie had ignored the calls and the messages. Tomorrow, she would be here when Pat arrived and they could at last have a frank exchange away from hidden listeners.
Moonlight, semi-obscured by clouds, shone through the window that overlooked the back yards, but wasn’t enough to read by or do any useful searching, though she spent a minute or two looking through the recent paperwork on the desk, before leaving it and settling herself as comfortably as she could in the chair.
Drowsiness had just begun to catch hold when she found herself jerked awake.
Something … some sound had woken her.
She sat up, grasping the chair arms to pull herself silently to her feet.
They’d followed her after all. And she was trapped. She heard the click of the outer door closing downstairs. Whoever it was, they were inside the building. In a moment, she was across the room, easing the window open. There was no way out, but she had to hope they didn’t know that. She turned, strode softly to the office door and slipped out on to the landing.
She crept along the upstairs corridor before footfalls on the stairs froze her. She sank down into a crouch.
Peering out awkwardly, she caught the shadow of the intruder as he ascended. No choice but to wait and hope he fell for the open window. If he leant out to peer into the darkness below, she would have time to creep back down the stairs and away.
She saw the silhouette of a dark clad figure rise up the staircase and head for the office door. Barely a creak of a floorboard gave away his presence. Thank heavens she hadn’t been sound asleep.
She sensed rather than heard surprise at the unlocked door, and then watched the intruder head straight for the open window to look out.
At once she eased herself along the landing to the head of the stairs, one eye on the figure with its back to her leaning out to look into the night. The dim light of the moon outlined his shape and, at the point of turning on to the stairway to slip silently down, Annie stopped, smothering a gasp of surprise.
She stared intently through the open office door.
Then she stepped inside, deliberately clattering her shoes on the wooden floor. The figure before her spun round with a gasp.
She clicked on the light and said, ‘Scott? What the hell are you doing?’
CHAPTER 5
There was satisfaction in catching Scott out; an affirmation that she was better at this stuff than he, despite his official status and warrant card. After an initial prickly exchange, where they each demanded to know what the other was doing and neither provided answers, they agreed it would be best to turn out the light and keep quiet in case anyone should report a burglary in progress. Annie suggested she make coffee for them both and Scott accepted with an ungracious, ‘I hope you make a better cup than Pat Thompson.’
Annie shot him a glance, seeing his gaze run over the scratches that criss-crossed her arms and wondered if he’d clocked how recent they were, but said nothing as she made for the back office and clicked on the kettle. A better cup than Pat Thompson? When had Pat ever made coffee for Scott? In her mind, she ran through Pat’s earlier message. Your copper badgering me … So Scott had been here earlier in the day and that was when he’d helped himself to the spare office key.
‘You asked Pat to make coffee to get her out of the room, didn’t you?’ she asked as she passed him his cup. ‘You went through her files.’
‘Just the ones out on the desk,’ he said with a shrug that acknowledged the futility of denying anything since she’d caught him breaking and entering. Annie thought about the full-scale search she’d undertaken, every drawer, desk and cabinet and not a trace left. He’d done one desktop and left a mess. But then the searches he specialized in were carried out under the auspices of a magistrate’s warrant, with no need for stealth.
Settled with a drink in his hand, the pale moonlight showing his outline but not his features, Scott said, ‘You told me you were leaving.’
‘I did, but I came back,’ she lied, trying to analyse his expression. How much did he know? ‘Barbara’s had an accident. Pat phoned me.’
‘Huh! Some accident.’
‘What do you mean?’ She peered at him through the gloom. ‘Wasn’t it an accident?’
He shrugged. ‘I did try to warn you to leave the job alone.’
‘But what job? I don’t know what’s going on.’
It was his turn to stare at her across the dark office as though trying to work out if she were speaking the truth. ‘Honestly, Scott, I haven’t a clue. They brought me here for …’ It seemed a bad idea to tell him anything, even about the pony camp. ‘… because they were short-staffed, but I didn’t get to know what jobs I was supposed to take on. I was on my way to see Barbara when she …’ She gave a huff of exasperation and burst out, ‘Why Barbara? Nothing goes on in this place that Pat doesn’t know about. Barbara never works on her own.’
‘Why did Sleeman bring in either of them?’ Scott muttered.
Annie bit back her questions. He wasn’t ready to confide in her. The intimacy they’d once shared was long gone. Whoever was behind this, it was someone who had deliberately brought Annie into the mix, and that wasn’t Vince Sleeman. She glanced at Scott as he raised his cup to drain the last of his coffee. They both wanted answers and he thought Pat could provide them. Even if Pat knew nothing, as Annie suspected, it would be instructive to hear Scott’s questions. She wondered if she could persuade him to stay till morning. Putting her feet up on to a box of paper, trying to ease the dull ache in her leg, she said, ‘So what have you been getting up to these last few years?’ She tried for a light tone.
He turned to look at her, surprised, and gave a shrug.
‘Go on,’ she prompted. ‘I’m interested. I’d say you’re married with a couple of kids. A house in … hmm, let me guess … Beverley. You always liked Beverley better than Hull.’
For a moment, she didn’t think he would play the game, but then he said, ‘Closer to Wetherby. Twin boys.’
Not far from Jean Greenhough’s stamping ground, she thought. ‘That’s quite a commute for you.’
He laughed. ‘You haven’t changed. Anyone else would ask about the boys, how old, what they’re called. For you it’s the commute.’
He laughed and they chatted desultorily for a while. She saw Scott’s gaze wander about the room and once or twice he shifted in his chair as though about to stand up. Each time, she was ready with another question, until eventually he blew out a breath and nodded towards the PCs on the desks. ‘Do you know your way around their filing system?’
‘Yes. What are you after?’
A pause. ‘Would you get me access and just let me look?’ The first vestige of light had begun to define his features. He’d taken a key so he could come back at night to search the place. This wasn’t the Scott she’d known. What had happened to change him so fundamentally in a few short years? Yet he didn’t seem to have changed at all, and if not, what had driven the old Scott Kerridge to these lengths?
‘Wait with me to see Pat,’ she said. ‘We both need answers. Let’s tackle her together.’
‘You said it was Barbara, not Pat,’ he shot back, but he stayed in his chair.
Annie woke with a start. What was it? Scott? But no, he was lying back in his chair, mouth open, snoring gently. The noise came from downstairs. Suppressing a groan – every muscle and joint in her body seemed to have stiffened into a network of pain – Annie stretched out her foot and kicked Scott’s ankle. ‘Wake up,’ she hissed. ‘Pat’s here.’
As she spoke, she glanced out at the morning light and then at the time. It was far too early for Pat, but the huffing and puffing that matched the creaking of the stairs was unmistakable. As Pat pushed open the door, Annie watched emotions chase across the woman’s face, slightly flushed from the climb, brow wrinkled in annoyance at the early start. When her gaze lit on Annie, her eyes opened wide.
‘At bloody last …’ she began. ‘What the hell’s happ—?’ She stopped abruptly as she saw Scott. Her gaze swung from one to the other of them as her eyes narrowed.
