by Penny Grubb
‘Keep quiet,’ she told Pat. ‘We don’t want to wake anyone.’
She took Pat into one of the overflow rooms at the back of the block, tossed her jacket down on the bed and said, ‘Check in there for coffee and stuff,’ indicating the cubby hole with its kettle. ‘And I’ll nip round and get us some food.’
Leaving Pat foraging in the tiny space, Annie made her way back through the stable block, weighing up whether or not to chase Scott via Kate again.
The solitary horse again raised its head to watch her pass. Something about its outline caught her attention. She stopped to look, suddenly convinced she recognized it as one of the pony camp animals. It was certainly muddy enough. Probably it was her mind playing tricks, but she would be pleased to find Jean pottering in the kitchen, and she ran through a lightning fantasy where she talked Jean into cooking her and Pat a meal whilst she dozed at the small table.
No doubts now; dawn had begun to creep across the sky. It was still dark enough for her torch to have been useful but it was in her jacket pocket in the room with Pat. She felt her way along the wall, noting the shapes that defined themselves in the distance; the mound of the hill that led over to the racetrack, the line of trees waving their branches along the far end of the big car park. The breeze chilled her bare arms, bringing with it a background aroma of straw, of horses and early morning air, soon to be joined by the crisp tang of frying bacon, she hoped.
As she turned the corner she saw a Range Rover parked near the entrance to the building and, at the far end of the lorry park, the outline of a small horse box. It wasn’t Jean’s box; hers hadn’t had writing on the side, but it was Jean’s Range Rover. That meant Jean was here, probably asleep in one of the rooms, looking after the last of the pony camp animals.
Someone was up and about. She had just slipped past the first of the windows when a light came on in one of the bedrooms further down. A silhouette grew and then shrank on the curtains. At the same time she became aware of voices. The words weren’t distinguishable, but the whisper of conversation came from further down the yard. There were more people here than she’d anticipated, but that silhouette was familiar. It was Jean. She was sure of it.
Jean’s car but not Jean’s box. She looked across again and froze on a gasp. The encroaching dawn had misled her: shown her the outline from the wrong angle. It was tucked into a dip near the far end of the building. She’d seen one panel and thought she was looking at the full length of it, but it was a monster of a vehicle and for the first time, she saw the huge tractor unit attached.
As the implications hit her the silhouette was back at the window. No longer alone. Distorted figures twirled in a slow motion dance; Jean’s shadowy partner dumping her inert form back on the bed; the momentary outline of an odd-shaped hand. Not a hand. A fist holding a syringe - oh God! Then the light clicked out.
Annie threw herself at the dark corner by the rain barrel as the door to the building opened and footsteps thudded out. The form that strode past her hiding-place, close enough for her to reach out and touch him, was relaxed, cupping his hands round a cigarette as he lit up. She recognized him as the heavy who had caught Christa. And now he was between her and her way back to Pat; the way back to her car; the way back to her phone.
CHAPTER 26
Annie pressed her back to the wall feeling completely outgunned. Too tired to be thinking straight, she’d walked into their midst. It was only a matter of time before they spotted her. The wall behind her felt sharp and scratchy, pulling at the fabric of her shirt. And damp, too. If everyone stood just as they stood now, meat-plate hands at the corner of the car park cradling his cigarette, the unseen person or people talking softly at the other side, herself pressed to the wall by the rain barrel, the dawn would creep in and shine a spotlight on her. Already, shapes were defining themselves as light trickled in from the far horizon. It was an action replay of the farmhouse shrubbery. She pulled in a deep breath. The worst thing to do now would be a panicked, ill-thought-out move.
Out of nowhere, the comments she’d overheard back at the farmhouse suddenly made sense. The huge coils of wire in the big shed. That talk about stability and the electricity supply. Carl hysterical about having the trailer parked in his drive. There’d been panic at some point recently. Vince, with his plan for his own salvation in tatters, had seen time running out. She could almost hear his voice from across the years.
If you want a bloody job doing, do it your bloody self.
Usually shouted at Barbara full volume, while she turned her nose up at him and maintained he’d given her an impossible task. Back in the days when she’d been the sisters’ employee, when they hadn’t realized she was in earshot, she’d twice heard him follow up with, I told you to give this one to Annie! More nails in the coffin of her relationship with Barbara, which hadn’t been great from the off.
So he’d lost the contacts who would leapfrog the waiting lists for him and maybe procure him a donor. He’d done the job himself. Found his own mobile operating theatre; searched for his own surgical team; found and shipped in his own donor. But an enterprise like that couldn’t be set up on a whim. It needed more than even Vince’s long reach could easily muster. A reliable electricity source for one. That’s what they’d been trying to sort out at the big barn. And they’d failed. Probably the mains cables were too old to give them what they needed. She wondered if that was why they’d taken it to Carl’s house, to hook it up there. He’d freaked at the sight of it in his drive and it had moved off again. So Leah didn’t always get her way. Again, she thought about Leah’s position in all this. Wasn’t she the one who’d tried to keep Vince in hospital and on a legitimate waiting list for a transplant? She’d lived with him all these years, but was this a step too far? Annie knew that the Sleemans were involved in all sorts, but she’d never had a hint that they were killers; that casual assertion Carl had given someone that he’d killed her had never seemed to have substance.
If it wasn’t too late for Vitoria, and if she couldn’t find a way to get back to her phone, then Leah might be the one to target.
The sentry by the corner of the building made a move. He took a final drag on his cigarette, tipped his head up towards the last of the night sky and blew out a cloud of smoke; then he tossed the butt to the ground and twisted it under his heel before walking out of sight round the building.
Annie looked the other way. The voices whispered on in the darkness but they were out of sight of the front of the building. This was her chance to move. She slipped silently along to the door and let herself in. It wasn’t the ideal place to be, but at least she had some cover to plan her next move. Tiptoeing from one end of the building to the other, she checked all the rooms. The only occupant was Jean, stretched out on her back on the small bed, her arms flung over her head. There was no chance of rousing her, but Annie tried anyway, before rolling her into the recovery position. Meat-plate hands must have stationed himself inside, guarding Jean. If she hadn’t woken they might have left her. Or maybe Annie had just happened along at the point when the man had gone in there to deal with her. They would need an undisturbed few hours, and Jean would have been sure to take an interest in a strange new horse box. This was the back-up plan. Somewhere a horse box could park for hours without comment; somewhere with a reliable electricity supply to hook up to.
Back in the tiny kitchen Annie daren’t open the fridge door because the flash of light might show outside, but on the surface lay the remains of a sliced loaf and a pot of jam. She grabbed a slice, and using her finger to hook out a chunk of jam she smeared it on the bread and chewed hungrily. Sorry, Pat, she thought. Nothing I can do for you yet. As though the tiny amount of sustenance was enough to recharge her, two things popped up at the front of her mind. The first made her stifle a gasp. Pat! Pat wouldn’t wait for long. She’d come lumbering round to see what was keeping Annie, probably flashing a torch in front of her advertising her presence for all to see. The second thought had Annie racing bac
k to the small bedroom where Jean lay unconscious. Jean had a phone. How could she have been so dumb? It just showed what tiredness could do. She raked through Jean’s pockets, through the tiny unit with its single drawer and minuscule wardrobe. There inside at a back corner sat Jean’s handbag, gaping open. Annie yanked it out and peered inside, impatiently upending it on to the floor. Nothing. Meat-plate hands must already have taken it, in case Jean came to earlier than expected. After all, they thought Christa had come round and made her own escape. She looked back at the comatose form on the bed hoping Jean hadn’t been given an extra large dose as insurance.
As far as she could see there was no reason for anyone to come back inside this building. The trailer was parked in the dip down by a small annexe at the far end of the lorry park. Her task now was to make her way back to the stable block and her phone.
Annie eased the door open, and slipped back outside. It was quiet now, but too light to risk being able to blend with the wall of the low building. She needed better cover and needed to get away from the building’s shelter so she could get a look at what was going on at the two ends. At some point, she hoped they would all converge at or round the trailer, leaving her escape route clear. After taking a last look to be sure no one was in her direct line of sight, she crouched low and ran across the dirt surface, ducking down behind Jean’s Range Rover. The view wasn’t a great deal better, but it felt more secure to be out in the open.
A low laugh cut through the air, followed by a burst of voices talking together. She peered out from under the car, seeing three of the heavies emerge from the direction of the stable block and … she swallowed a gasp … the woman, Vitoria, was with them, walking alongside. As they swung into view the first shaft of sunlight broke across the far horizon causing them all to shade their eyes and giving Annie a grandstand view of their faces. Relaxed and laughing, they strolled on, until Vitoria stopped abruptly. Annie judged from the angle that they’d just come in sight of the huge trailer. Voices floated across.
‘… no, I would rather wait …’
‘… don’t worry … Leah says it’s OK for you to …’
Vitoria nodded and smiled reassuringly, started off again with them, then suddenly twisted away and set off at a sprint.
It was over before Annie could think about reacting. Vitoria made half a dozen steps before one of the heavies caught her by the upper arm and spun her back round. They continued on their way, Vitoria now struggling futilely against the tree-trunk of an arm that held her almost casually as the men strode with her towards the dip where the truck was parked.
Keeping low behind the car, Annie looked across. Steps had been put up to the door of the trailer. The only way in or out. But they weren’t heading there. They veered away from the trailer and made for the small annexe.
If they were to go inside they might leave the way clear for her … but no, she heard yet more voices from the direction of the stable block. How many of them were there?
She looked back towards the three heavies and saw one of them push Vitoria roughly through the door of the annexe ahead of him. The other two waited outside, and a moment later, the third re-emerged. They turned and marched back the way they’d come, apparently confident she wouldn’t or couldn’t get back out. Annie had concentrated on getting to a phone, but there was another way to stop them. They couldn’t do anything without Vitoria. And as far as Annie could tell, Vitoria had been left alone in that small annexe.
Annie knew she clung by her fingernails and should get out while she could. The route over the far horizon that led to the racetrack lay unguarded. There might be people there, dog-walkers, staff doing whatever it was that racetracks needed by way of early morning maintenance. Even if not, she’d reach the road eventually, flag someone down, hitch a lift, borrow or steal a phone. What would it take? An hour at most? Her priority should be to get herself out, get help for Pat and just hope she could be in time for Vitoria. But her gut told her Vitoria didn’t have an hour. As the life leached from Vince, so death crept up on the woman who’d walked out of the sea. What had she hoped for that night? Not this.
Annie was pretty sure she’d just witnessed the moment at which Vitoria realized her intended fate, but she wondered how the woman could have been so blind.
She tried to judge how the odds were stacked, but it was an impossible equation to solve. Too many unknowns. No illusions about what would happen to her if she were found, but she had to try to get Vitoria out before it was too late. The leaden tiredness had gone. She felt alert and wide awake, but knew it was a temporary adrenaline rush. It wouldn’t last and it was no substitute for knowledge and preparation.
Silently and as quickly as she could, she picked her way from shadow to shadow heading for that door. What had he done to Vitoria to stop her coming right back out? Tied her, drugged her? He’d been quick for either, which was a problem because it implied that someone else was in there to stand guard.
Yet somehow the small annexe wasn’t the focus. She’d heard only snatches of conversation, their sense largely carried away on the breeze, but it would be the preparations of the trailer, securing the electricity, putting the team in place, that were priority over Vitoria at this stage. The donor would normally be on life-support, their metabolism carefully balanced by machines whilst the operating room was prepared. No need for expensive machinery for Vitoria. Her own body would do the perfect job until they were ready for her. So presumably they’d keep her free of drugs.
Annie was at the corner of the annexe now and gave a swift glance back, pressing herself against the wall as another figure hurried across the dirt yard and climbed inside the trailer. It was hard to imagine there’d be room for all the people they were going to need.
The window was covered with a ragged curtain that looked as though it had been in place for months. It had frayed at one corner and didn’t reach the sill. Warily, Annie drew close and pressed her face to the glass. The inside was stacked with what looked like old boxes, garbage, a holding place for things on their way to the recycling centre by the look of it. A movement made her jump, but she realized it was Vitoria sitting on the floor at the back of the space, twisting round, pulling at something.
No sign of anyone else in there.
She reached the door, looked back to be sure no one could see her, then turned the handle and entered in one swift move, her gaze raking round the small space, ignoring Vitoria, searching for threats.
Vitoria started up in alarm at her entrance. Annie held up her hand in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture as she stared round the small space.
Vitoria wasn’t alone. The other occupant was Vince, huddled in a wheelchair, tiny and wizened. If it weren’t for his rasping breaths Annie would have assumed him already dead. A thought flashed through her mind. If he were dead, the reason to kill Vitoria would have gone. How long would it take to smother a dying man? Seconds by the look of him. She turned back to Vitoria.
‘You doctor?’ said the woman in a small voice.
‘No, no. I’m here to help you … to get you out. Let me see.’
She knelt down and saw that one of Vitoria’s wrists was handcuffed to a metal water pipe. She wasted a moment rattling at the cuffs and the pipe, but it was clear they were going nowhere without tools to break through them, so she turned her attention to the piles of boxes, rifling through them for something she could use. The boxes were empties. She found an old bicycle wheel, some useless oddments and then a rusty jar labelled Hoof Oil. She struggled to undo the top. Maybe if Vitoria’s wrist were slippery enough…?
She inspected the cuff. It was far too tight. It wouldn’t come free without the key or some kind of tool to cut it open.
In frustration, Annie rushed to the small window to peer out, to make sure no one was on their way.
‘I’ll have to go for help,’ Annie told Vitoria, who looked up at her, the beginnings of panic in her eyes.
‘Find Leah,’ she said. ‘Leah say she keep me safe.
Leah not here.’
‘I know,’ said Annie. ‘But I’ll do better than that if I can just find a phone.’
A phone! Vince wasn’t a prisoner. He was here voluntarily. There was no reason he wouldn’t still have his phone on him. At once, she was at the wheelchair digging in the folds of the blankets, the pockets on the chair. A sour odour of decay rose from him, making her screw up her face in disgust.
He groaned as she pushed him from one side to the other.
‘What the fuck…?’ he growled, opening his eyes and fixing her with a glare. ‘Can’t a dying man have a minute’s peace?’
‘Your phone,’ Annie spat back at him. ‘I want your phone. And I’ll tip you out of the blasted chair to get it if I have to,’
He made an attempt at a laugh and raised one his hands, frail and skeletal, skin translucent, the crooked index finger pointing to a battered holdall on the floor by the chair. ‘In there if it’s anywhere. Now, fuck off!’
Annie dived for the bag, tipped it upside down and scrabbled through a heap of packets and pill bottles that tumbled out. No phone. Nothing she could use for anything useful.
‘Where is it?’ she hissed up at Vince.
He just gave a small shake of his head and closed his eyes.
She looked towards Vitoria who also shook her head. ‘I don’t seen phone.’
Time leaked away and there was nothing she could do. Again she peered through the gap in the makeshift curtain. It wouldn’t be long before someone came to get Vitoria and then Vince. She mustn’t be caught in here with them. She looked at the stack of boxes and at the heap of medicines all over the floor. It was pretty clear someone had been in here.
