A Place of Execution - Val McDermid 6 стр.


Youre right, missus, he said. Im Detective Sergeant Clough, and this is Detective Constable Cragg. Can we come in a minute?

Kathy stepped back and let them pass, allowing Clough to brush against her breasts without complaint. The kitchens straight ahead. Youll find my husband in there, she said coldly.

She followed them and leaned against the range, trying to warm herself against the cold fear inside, waiting for the men to introduce themselves and settle round the table. Clough turned to her. Have you seen Alison since she got home from school?

Kathy took a deep breath. Aye. It was my turn to pick up the kids off the school bus. In the winter, one of us always drives up to the lane end to collect them.

Was there anything different about Alison that you noticed? Clough asked.

Kathy thought for a moment, then shook her head. Nowt. She shrugged. She were just the same as usual. JustAlison. She said cheerio and walked off up the path to the manor. Last I saw of her she was walking through the door, shouting hello to her mum.

Did you see any strangers about? Either on the road or up at the lane end?

I never noticed anybody.

I believe you went round the village with Mrs Hawkin? Clough asked.

I wasnt going to leave her on her own, was I? Kathy demanded belligerently.

How did you come to know Alison was missing?

It was our Derek. Hes not been doing as well as he should have been at school, so I took it on myself to make sure he was doing his homework properly. Instead of letting him go off with Alison and their cousin Janet when they got home from school, Ive been keeping him in.

She makes him sit at the kitchen table and do all the work his teachers have set him before shell let him loose with the girls. Waste of bloody time, if you ask me. The lads only going to be a farmer like me, Mike Lomas interrupted, his voice a low rumble.

Not if I have anything to do with it, Kathy said grimly. I tell you whats a waste of time. Its that record player Phil Hawkin bought Alison. Derek and Janet are never away from there, listening to the latest records. Derek was desperate to get over to Alisons tonight. Shes just got the new Beatles number one, I Want To Hold Your Hand. But it was after tea before I let him out. It must have been just before seven. He came back within five minutes, saying Alison had gone out with Shep and hadnt come home. Of course, I went straight over to see what was what.

Ruth was up to high doh. I told her she should check with everybody in the village, just in case Alison had popped in to see somebody and lost track of the time. Shes always sitting with old Ma Lomas, her and her cousin Charlie keeping the old witch company, listening to her memories of the old days. Once Ma gets going, you could sit all night. Shes some storyteller, Ma, and our Alison loves her tales.

She settled herself more comfortably against the range. Clough could see she was on a roll, and he decided just to let her run and see where her story took them. He nodded. Go on, Mrs Lomas.

Well, we were just about to set off when Phil came in. He said hed been in his darkroom, messing about with his photographs, and hed only just noticed the time. He was going on about where was his tea and where was Alison? I told him there were more important things to think about than his belly, but Ruth dished him up a plate of the hotpot shed had cooking. Then we left him to it and went knocking doors. She came to a sudden halt.

So you never saw Alison again after she got out of the car coming back from school?

Land Rover, Mike Lomas growled.

Sorry?

It were a Land Rover, not a car. Nobody has cars down here, he said contemptuously.

No, Ive not seen her since she walked in the kitchen door, Kathy said. But youre going to find her, arent you? I mean, thats your job. You are going to find her?

Were doing our best. It was Cragg who trotted out the formulaic placebo.

Before she could utter the angry retort Tommy Clough could see coming, he spoke quickly. What about your lad, Mrs Lomas? Is he where he should be?

Her mouth dropped open in shock. Derek? Why wouldnt he be?

Maybe the same reason Alisons not where she should be.

You cant say that! Mike Lomas jumped to his feet, his cheeks flaming scarlet, his eyes tight with anger.

Clough smiled, spreading his hands in a conciliatory gesture. Nay, dont take me wrong. All I meant was, you should check in case somethings happened to him an all.

By the time George got over the stile, the lights from the tracker teams torches were no more than a hazy wavering in the distance. He guessed they had entered some woodland by the way the yellow beams seemed suddenly to disappear and reappear at random. Switching on the torch hed borrowed from the police Land Rover that had brought some of the men over from Buxton, he hurried across the uneven tufts of coarse grass as quickly as he could.

The trees loomed up sooner than hed expected. At first, all he could see was undisturbed undergrowth, but swinging the torch to and fro soon revealed a narrow path where the earth was packed hard. George plunged into the woodland, trying to balance haste against caution. The torch beam sent crazy shadows dancing off in every direction, forcing him to concentrate harder on the path than hed had to do in the field. Frosted leaves crunched under his feet, the occasional twig whipped his face or brushed his shoulder, and everywhere the decaying mushroomy smell of the woodland assailed him. Every twenty yards or so, he snapped off his torch to check his bearings against the lights ahead. Absolute darkness swallowed him, but it was hard to resist the feeling that there were hidden eyes staring at him, following his every move. It was a relief to snap his torch on again. A few minutes into the wood, he realized the lights before him had stopped moving. Putting on a spurt that nearly sent him flying over a tree root, he almost collided with a uniformed constable hurriedly retracing his steps.

Have you found her? George gasped.

No such luck, sir. We have found the dog, though.

Alive?

The man nodded. Aye. But shes been tied up.

In silence? George asked incredulously.

Somebody taped her muzzle shut, sir. Poor beast could barely manage a whimper. PC Miller sent me back to fetch Sergeant Lucas before we did owt.

Ill take responsibility now, George said firmly. But go back anyway and tell Sergeant Lucas whats happened. I think it might be wise to keep people out of this piece of woodland until daylight. Whatevers happened to Alison Carter, there might be evidence that were destroying right now.

The constable nodded and took off along the path at a trot. Bloody mountain goats they breed around here, George muttered as he blundered on down the path.

The clearing he emerged into was a chiaroscuro of torchlight and strangely elongated shadows. At the far end, a black and white collie strained against a rope tied round a tree. Liquid brown irises stood out against the white of its bulging eyes. The dull pink of the elastoplast that was wound round its muzzle looked incongruous in so pastoral a setting. George was aware of the stares of the uniformed men, looking him over speculatively.

I think we should put that dog out of its misery. What do you say, PC Miller? he asked, directing his question to the dog handler, who was methodically covering the clearing with Prince.

I dont think shell argue with you on that, sir, Miller said. Ill take Prince out of the way so he wont upset her. With a jerk on the dogs leash and a word of command, he made for the far side of the clearing. George noticed his dog was still casting around as hed done outside the house earlier.

Has he lost the scent? he asked, suddenly concerned about more important matters than a dogs discomfort.

Looks like the trail ends here, the dog handler said. Ive been right round the clearing twice, and down the path in the opposite direction. But theres nothing.

Does that mean she was carried out of here? George asked, a cold tremor twitching upwards from his stomach.

Like as not, Miller said grimly. One things for sure. She didnt walk out of here unless she turned straight round and walked back to the house. And if thats what she did, why tie up the bitch and muzzle her?

Maybe she wanted to creep up on her mum? Or her stepdad? one of the constables hazarded.

The dog wouldnt have barked at them, would she? So thered be no need to muzzle her, or leave her behind, Miller said.

Unless she thought one or other of them might be with a stranger, George said, half under his breath.

Aye well, my money says she never left this clearing under her own steam. Miller spoke with finality as he walked his dog down the path.

George approached the dog cautiously. The whimper in the dogs throat turned to a soft grumble. What had Ruth Hawkin called it? Shep, that was it. OK, Shep, he said gently, holding his hand out so the dog could sniff his fingers. The growl died away. George hitched up his trousers and kneeled down, the frozen ground uneven and ungenerous beneath his knees. Automatically, he noticed the elastoplast was the thicker kind, from a roll two inches wide with a half-inch band of lint bulging up the middle of it. Steady, girl, he said, one hand gripping the thick hair at the scruff of the dogs neck to hold her head still. With his other hand, he picked at the end of the elastoplast till he had freed enough to pull clear. He looked up. One of you, come over here and hold the dogs head while I get this stuff off.

One of the constables straddled the nervous collie and grasped her head firmly. George gripped the end of the elastoplast strip and pulled it as hard as he could. Inside a minute, hed yanked the last of it free, narrowly avoiding the snapping teeth of the collie, panicking in response to having chunks of her fur ripped away with the tape. The constable behind her hastily jumped clear as she swung round to try her chances with him. As soon as she realized her mouth was free, Shep dropped to the ground and began to bark furiously at the men. What do we do now, sir? one of the constables asked.

Im going to untie her and see where she wants to take us, George said, sounding more confident than he felt. He walked forward cautiously, but the dog showed no sign of wanting to attack him. He took out his penknife and sawed through the rope. It was easier than trying to untie it while the dog was straining against it. And it had the advantage of preserving the knot, just in case there was anything distinctive about it. George thought not; it looked pretty much like a standard reef knot to him.

Instantly, Shep lunged forward. Taken by surprise, George gouged a slice out of his thumb as he tried to hold on to the sheepdog. Damn! he exploded as the rope whirled through his fingers, burning the skin where it touched. One of the constables attempted to grab the rope as the dog fled, but failed. George clutched his bleeding hand and watched helplessly as the dog raced down the path Miller and Prince had taken from the clearing.

Moments later, there was the sound of a scuffle and Millers voice shouting sternly, Sit. Then silence. Then an eerie howling split the night.

Groping in his pocket for a handkerchief, George followed the dogs path. A dozen yards into the wood, he came upon Miller and the two dogs. Prince lay on the ground, his muzzle between his paws. Shep sat on the ground, her head lifted towards the sky, her mouth opening and closing in a long series of heart-stopping wails. Miller held the rope, securing the straining collie. She seems to want to go this way, Miller said, gesturing with his head down the path away from the clearing.

Lets follow her, then, George said. He wrapped his bleeding thumb with the handkerchief then took the rope from the handler. Come on, girl, he encouraged the collie. Show me. He shook the rope.

Immediately, Shep bounded to her feet and set off down the trail, tail wagging. They wove through the trees for a couple of minutes, then the track emerged from the trees on to the banks of a narrow, fast-flowing stream. The dog promptly sat down and looked back at him, her tongue hanging out and her eyes bewildered.

Thatd be the Scarlaston, Millers voice said behind him. I knew it rose in these parts. Funny river. Ive heard tell it just sort of seeps out of the ground. If we have a dry summer, it sometimes vanishes altogether.

Where does it lead? George asked.

Im not sure. I think it flows either into the Derwent or the Manifold, I cant remember which. Youd have to look at a map for that.

George nodded. So if Alison was carried out of the clearing, wed lose the trail here anyway. He sighed and turned away, guiding his torch beam over his watch. It was almost quarter to ten. Theres nothing more we can do in darkness. Lets head back to the village.

He practically had to drag Shep away from the Scarlastons edge. As they made their slow progress back to Scardale, George fretted about Alison Carters disappearance. Nothing made sense. If someone was ruthless enough to kidnap a young girl, surely they wouldnt show mercy to a dog? Especially a dog as lively as Shep. He couldnt imagine a dog with the collies spirit meekly submitting to having elastoplast tightly wound round its muzzle. Unless it had been Alison whod done the deed?

If it had been Alison, had she acted on her own initiative or had she been forced to silence her own dog? And if shed done it for her own ends, where was she now? If shed been going to run away, why not take the dog with her for protection, at least until dawn broke? The more he thought about it, the less he understood.

George trudged out of the woods and through the field, the reluctant dog trailing at his heels. George found Sergeant Lucas conferring with PC Grundy in the light of a hurricane lamp hanging from the back of the Land Rover. Briefly, he explained the scenario in the woods. Theres no point in trampling through there in the dark, he said. I reckon the best we can do is put a couple of men on guard and at first light, we search the woodland inch by inch.

Both men looked at him as if hed gone mad. With respect, sir, if youre intending to keep the villagers out of the wood, theres not a lot of point in leaving a couple of men to catch frostbite in the field, Lucas said wearily. The locals know the lie of the land far better than we do. If they want to get into those woods, they will, and well never know about it. Besides, I dont think theres a soul in the place who hasnt already volunteered to help searching. If we tell them whats what, theyll be the last ones to destroy any possible clues.

He had a point, George realized. What about outsiders?

Lucas shrugged. All we have to do is post a guard on the gate on the road. I dont imagine anybodyll be keen enough to hike in from the next dale. Its a treacherous path up the Scarlaston banks at the best of times, never mind on a frosty winter night.

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