The rain and wind intensified during the night and when Daniel turned up for work the next day, it was to be greeted with the news that there was flooding and potential road closures on several of the routes the TFS drivers regularly used.
‘Did you hear about the Greek tanker that’s run aground off Torbay?’ Fred Bowden said as he passed Daniel a restorative mug of coffee in the office after his early morning run with Taz. ‘Got carried off course in the storm last night, they reckon.’
‘Heard something about it on the radio on the way in,’ Daniel said. ‘Something about illegals coming ashore in a boat, wasn’t there?’
‘Yeah, a whole load of ’em in one of the tanker’s lifeboats and apparently they’re saying there’s more aboard. Tricked into working their passage, I gather. They were in a bit of a state, by all accounts, poor bastards!’
‘Must have been desperate to launch a small boat in this weather,’ Daniel agreed. ‘I wouldn’t care to try it.’
‘Slavery, basically,’ Fred said. ‘You’d like to think mankind had progressed beyond that in this day and age, wouldn’t you?’
‘The savage isn’t very far beneath the surface in some people,’ Daniel observed sadly, reflecting briefly on the Driscolls and their cronies.
‘How’s Lorna doing, by the way? No news, I suppose. Have the police turned up anything at all?’
‘Not that they’re sharing with her,’ Daniel replied. ‘I assume they’re working through all the usual channels but if they’ve got any leads they’re keeping them to themselves. However, when we went to redeem the rings at the pawnbroker’s, we saw a watch Zoe thinks might be his. The police are following it up but we haven’t heard anything, as yet.’
‘Oh, Christ! That’s not good however you look at it,’ Fred groaned. ‘How’s she taking it?’
Daniel pursed his lips.
‘She’s keeping it together but I don’t know for how long. It’s not only Harvey being missing, it’s the financial side of it. If he’s run himself deep into debt, where’s that going to leave her? She’s not stupid; she knows she wouldn’t be able to maintain a place like that on her own, and there’s the horses – they’re her life.’
Throughout the long, difficult day’s driving, Daniel found his mind running back and forth over the unpleasant business of Billy Driscoll and his fraudulent activities. He was amazed that the owners he trained for would accept his reluctance to have visitors at the kennels, but then again, given the disinterest shown by many of the owners at the end of the dogs’ short careers, maybe that wasn’t as surprising as it at first seemed. To Daniel, for whom Taz was not only a partner but a friend, the idea of looking upon a dog as a mere commodity for occasional amusement was totally alien.
Munching on a tuna baguette in a roadside cafe at lunchtime, he found himself thinking about Emily Rathbone and her very real distress upon discovering the fate of her own greyhound. She may have been guilty of seeing only what she wanted to see, but the blinkers were well and truly off now, and she had been horrified to learn that Daniel and Anya suspected that Lily was just one of many dogs that Driscoll had routinely slaughtered.
How many of the other owners had been deceived into paying for the care of dogs that no longer existed it was impossible to tell, but it would be a risky business and Daniel thought the trainer was probably shrewd enough to know which of his owners he could tap in that way, and which it would be safer not to.
He thought again of Shane’s abrupt dismissal. Given that the lad had already known that Driscoll was killing dogs and disposing of them on his land, what had prompted the trainer to not only sack the boy but practically hound him out of the area?
Had it been the discovery that Shane was on intimate terms with Harvey Myers’ stepdaughter that had so worried Billy Driscoll?
The fact that Shane had been seeing a non-Traveller had been no secret at Hawkers Yard so it seemed Billy Driscoll’s extreme reaction must have been due to who she was, rather than what she was. So why was that important? Had he been pulling some kind of scam on the businessman? Did Shane have information that might incriminate him? But if that was so, why hadn’t the boy mentioned it during the furore over Myers’ disappearance?
Even though Shane seemed honest enough, himself, Daniel knew enough of the Travelling community not underestimate the strength of the youngster’s ties of loyalty to his race and heritage.
In the event, despite his dislike for his former employer, had blood ties proven stronger even than his feelings for Zoe or had fear of reprisals tipped the balance? Remembering how Shane hadn’t hesitated to wade in when Zoe had been waylaid in Tavistock, Daniel was inclined to doubt that. Perhaps sacking the lad had been a pre-emptive strike on Driscoll’s part and Shane either didn’t actually know anything or didn’t realize the significance of it. He made a mental note to talk to the young Traveller again.
The sudden warm heaviness of Taz’s long black muzzle settling on his knee reminded him that he had almost finished his baguette and the dog was expecting his customary crust.
‘Got a sausage here, if he’d like it,’ the burly man behind the counter offered. ‘Been hanging around a bit long, this one; can’t really sell it now.’
‘He’d love it,’ Daniel assured him, draining his coffee cup and casting a disenchanted look at the rain streaming down the windows.
‘Here you are, boy,’ the man said, coming round the counter and holding the titbit out to Taz. The dog’s eyes sharpened but he made no move towards it.
‘Sorry. He won’t take it from you,’ Daniel told him. ‘He’s been trained not to.’
‘Sensible,’ the burly one said, undismayed. ‘He’s a beautiful dog. I love shepherds but the wife wanted a Labradoodle. Bet this chap could make good use of those teeth,’ he added as Taz accepted the sausage from Daniel as if he hadn’t been fed for a week.
‘He could bring you down, no problem, if I told him to,’ Daniel agreed.
‘I’ll make sure I give you the right change, then,’ the man joked. ‘Take care out there – it looks nasty!’
‘It is,’ Daniel replied with feeling.
His phone began to ring on his way back to the lorry and he answered it as he swung back up into the cab.
‘Daniel, it’s Lorna.’
‘Hi, Lorna. Is something wrong?’
‘Um …’ she sniffed. ‘Yes. Yvonne just called. They’ve found Harvey’s car.’
‘Oh, right. Where was it?’
‘Near the coast, she says. Hidden in some trees.’
‘That’s interesting.’
‘Yvonne says it’s possible it was dumped there by joyriders. It’s not necessarily where Harvey left it. There was some damage, apparently. It’s been taken off for forensics.’ There was a pause and she sniffed again. ‘It doesn’t look good, does it?’
‘Not brilliant, I have to say,’ Daniel admitted. ‘But let’s wait on the forensic report, shall we? Speak to you later.’
By the time Daniel had finished all his allotted drops for the day, the rain had slackened off a little, although the wind was still as strong. By a strange twist of fate or serendipity, he found himself with an empty lorry just up the road from Driscoll’s training yard.
Seeing the signpost to Barnsworthy, he made an instant and completely unpremeditated decision to go that way and five minutes later parked in a handy pull-in just a hundred yards from the kennels.
Stepping down from the cab with Taz bounding eagerly after him, he locked the vehicle and headed along the lane. Kenny, the barman at the Reckless Toad, had mentioned a footpath leading across Driscoll’s land, and Daniel found he was curious to try it out.
A couple of minutes later and a quarter of a mile down the road, Daniel stopped beside a rickety stile that was almost completely hidden by an overgrowth of brambles and blackthorn. In the long grass of the verge, he could see the stubby remains of a four-by-four timber post and after hunting around discovered the rest of it; a six-foot length of timber, now broken in two, with a small pointed sign at the top bearing the familiar symbol of a walking person that signified a footpath. It didn’t require a university education to guess how it had met its fate.
Taz came to attention and Daniel turned to see a woman with two springer spaniels approaching along the puddly tarmac of the lane. He smiled and she smiled back briefly, her face all but invisible with her collar turned up and a waxed hat pulled low over her eyes.
‘Good luck if you’re planning on going along there,’ she said as she drew level. ‘You’ll need a pair of wire cutters and a machete.’
‘Is it that bad?’
The woman stopped; the two spaniels strained towards Taz, who ignored them in his usual lofty fashion.
‘We’ve all given up trying,’ she told him. ‘We’ve complained to the council and the Ramblers’ Association and anyone else we can think of, but they never seem to do anything. It’s a shame because it’s the only way to get to Fowlers Wood apart from going round the roads, and that takes for ever.’
‘So who owns the land?’
‘Chap called Driscoll. Billy Driscoll. Runs the greyhound kennels back along the road, there.’
‘And he doesn’t like people crossing his land. Is he running stock on it?’
‘No, that’s the thing. He doesn’t do anything with it, as far as anyone can tell, except keep ploughing it up. I don’t know why, I mean, he never plants anything. Some people wonder if he ploughs it just to keep us off it.’
‘Has anyone tried talking to him about it?’ Daniel asked, all innocence.
The woman snorted derisively.
‘Yeah, right! Look, I’m not normally judgemental but the Driscolls are Travellers – Gypsies, and Billy and his brother Johnny, who owns the pub, give even them a bad name, d’you know what I mean? You don’t stir up trouble with either of them unless you want both of them on your case, and all of their friends and relations as well, probably.’ She pointed at the stile. ‘Just try and see how far you can get along there and then you’ll see the kind of person you’re dealing with.’
‘Does he actually come out and confront people?’
‘He doesn’t have to,’ she said bitterly. ‘He’s made it so difficult to use the path, nobody ever tries any more. No one local, at any rate. The last time I used it, someone was letting off a gun in the copse. Now, he may have been shooting pigeons or something but I wasn’t about to take any chances with my dogs running loose. Anyway,’ she cast an eye up at the clouds which were beginning to produce the kind of large, heavy drops that usually presaged a downpour, ‘I’m going to get home before I get drenched, yet again. Good luck, and don’t say I didn’t warn you!’
Thoughtfully, Daniel watched her hurry away, tugging her collar up even higher as the rain intensified, then turned back to the overgrown stile and footpath.
‘Well, Taz. Shall we give it a go, lad?’
The dog looked up at him, whining his impatience, and moments later Daniel had negotiated the sloping, wobbly plank of the stile, pushing his way through the stiff twiggery of the blackthorn. Brambles tore at his jeans and rainwater sprayed off the vegetation, soaking the denim as he jumped down into the field on the other side. Pig netting had been stretched across the rails but Taz made short work of the obstacle. For a dog who had been taught to climb a ladder, a stile was no problem.
In the field, Taz began to run to and fro, his nose down, but remembering the woman’s comments about gunfire, Daniel called him to heel. He wasn’t about to take any chances with his safety.
A sign nailed to a tree in the hedge on his right bade walkers to keep to the footpath and on his left a double strand electric fence ran parallel, a scant two feet away from the hedge to ensure that they did so, in spite of there being no stock in the field.
Daniel trudged through the wet grass, wishing he’d got his heavy duty walking boots on instead of his work ones, and in the far corner of the field found another stile buried deep in the overgrown hedge. This one, too, was broken and had, he discovered, two strands of barbed wire stretched above it.
Taking his penknife from his pocket, Daniel unfolded the wire cutters and snipped through the wire and some of the encroaching vegetation. With this removed, he was able to vault the remaining rails, followed with ease by the dog.
Now they were in the famous ploughed field, or at least in a wired-off strip of land running down one side of it. As in the previous field, the corridor set aside for the footpath was barely two feet wide but this field had a ditch running along the hedgeline, which had recently been dredged out. This meant that the choice was either to walk in this channel – at present running with at least eighteen inches of dirty water – or on the mounds of muddy residue that had been heaped to the side of it.
Daniel had no wish to do either and nor was the plough particularly enticing, especially after several days of heavy rain. He stood surveying the scene.
The field was a good four acres in size. Just how many dead greyhounds lay buried under the turned soil was anyone’s guess and as long as the ground was kept under plough, no one would ever notice if it had been freshly disturbed. At present, large areas of the ridged soil were beginning to disappear under pools of rainwater, and although Daniel pulled a small pair of binoculars from his jacket pocket, there was nothing untoward to see.
Taz, who had sat at his side without being told to, was now gazing out across the mud through rain that was once more beginning to fall in earnest. Suddenly he started to whine, looking up at Daniel.
‘What is it, lad? D’you know what’s out there? Can you sense it? No! Get your filthy paws off me!’ This was as Taz whined again and jumped up at him. ‘I know. It’s a poor walk, isn’t it? Let’s go back before we get drenched.’
As he turned, his attention was caught by a movement on the far side of the field, where it bordered the yard itself. He paused, scanning the hedgerow through the binoculars for several minutes, but saw nothing. Finally he turned away, unsure what was out there and whether he’d been seen. There was no way of knowing, but he felt pretty certain that if he had been seen he would also have been recognized. Even from a distance and without binoculars, the presence of the German shepherd would have seen to that.
The already rough wind grew steadily worse as Daniel drove back to the TFS depot and his journey was made slower and more circuitous by a fallen tree on his original route. The rain had returned in torrents and the windscreen wipers were struggling to cope with it. With water rebounding off the already streaming tarmac it was difficult to see where the pools of water were and Daniel had to keep his wits about him on the way back.
‘You’ve been a long time.’ Fred came out of the office to meet him as he returned the keys to the lockable cupboard in the hallway. ‘Trouble on the road?’
‘A little. It’s pretty intense out there,’ Daniel said, rubbing tired eyes. Taz padded in behind him and shook the rainwater from his fur. ‘Made all the drops OK, though. Is everyone else back?’
‘Yeah. You’re the last apart from Lofty – he just phoned in. He’s found himself on the wrong side of a fallen tree and is having to detour. Bugger of a night, it’s going to be! I was going to take Meg out, too – it’s our anniversary – but I think we might stay in and get a Chinese instead.’
‘Congratulations! If I’d known I’d have bought you a bottle of something. Give her a kiss from me, will you?’
‘I will not, you cheeky bastard! She’s far too fond of you already! You got time for a coffee?’
‘Even if I hadn’t, I’d make time. I’m gagging for a cuppa. I’ve been walking.’
‘In this?’ Fred asked, incredulously as he went through into the office.
‘I had my reasons,’ Daniel said, ‘and it wasn’t raining quite this hard at the time.’
‘So, where was this walk?’
Taking off his jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair, Daniel sat down thankfully and told him about Driscoll’s field and what he’d learned about it.
‘So what now?’ Fred asked. ‘Will you tell the police?’
Daniel shrugged.
‘Tell them what? I have no actual proof, only suspicions.’
The long journey back to the depot had given Daniel plenty of time to mull over those suspicions and he was just wondering whether to share with Fred the burgeoning extent of those when he was interrupted by the ringtone of his phone. Fishing it out of his jacket pocket, he frowned. ‘Don’t recognize that. Sorry, do you mind …?’
Accepting the call, he heard a male voice say hesitantly, ‘Um, is that Mr Whelan?’
‘Yes,’ Daniel said cautiously, trying to place the caller.
‘You said I could ring you, if I wanted to. You gave me a card with your number on.’
Recognition clicked in.
‘Davy? Davy Driscoll?’
‘You said I could call if I wanted to,’ he repeated. He sounded agitated.
‘Is something wrong?’ Daniel asked, seeing Fred raise his eyebrows.
There was a long pause and he began to think Davy had ended the call.
‘Davy?’
‘Yes, I’m here.’
Daniel could hear someone talking in the background and wondered if Davy was ringing from a pub.
‘Where are you, Davy?’
There was more background noise then Davy said, ‘Can I talk to you?’
‘Yes, go ahead.’
‘Not now cos Billy might hear,’ came the reply. ‘He wouldn’t be happy if he knew I was talking to you.’
That was probably the understatement of the year, Daniel reflected.
‘OK. So shall I ring you back later?’
‘No!’ The single word conveyed panic and Daniel’s interest was piqued. What had happened to make Billy Driscoll’s brother so anxious to speak to him?
‘I need to meet you,’ Davy said. ‘Can you come now?’
‘Now? Have you seen the weather, Davy? Can’t it wait?’
‘No! You must come.’
‘Is it Billy, Davy? Has he done something?’
There was a pause and then Davy said, ‘It’s what I seen. He doesn’t want me to talk to you.’
‘Can’t you at least tell me what it’s about, Davy?’
There was a long pause.
‘Davy?’
‘No,’ came the answer, and then, ‘It’s about the dogs but you mustn’t tell Billy.’
‘I’m not likely to, am I?’
Daniel gave up on the idea of getting any real sense out of Davy over the phone; he was clearly uncomfortable using it and becoming more incoherent by the moment.
‘OK. Where are you?’ he asked.
‘Can you come to the pub?’
‘Which one? In Barnsworthy?’
‘No. In Bovey Trent. The Jack of Spades. Just you. Nobody else. You won’t bring anyone else, will you?’
‘OK, but what about you? How will you get there?’ Bovey Trent was a good five miles from Driscoll’s yard, a fact that strongly recommended it to Daniel.
‘I can borrow the truck, driving’s easy,’ Davy said, sounding relieved now that Daniel had agreed.
‘Won’t Billy want to know where you’re going?’
‘No, I won’t tell him, so he won’t know,’ came the muddled reply. Then after a pause and more background noise, ‘He’s not here.’
‘Well, wouldn’t it be easier if I came to you, then?’ Daniel asked.
‘No! He might come back.’
The idea of setting out towards Barnsworthy again, so soon after his difficult journey back, wasn’t one that attracted Daniel overmuch, but Davy’s need to confide seemed urgent, so he agreed to meet him in an hour’s time.
‘Just you,’ Davy said anxiously. ‘You mustn’t bring anyone else.’
‘Just me,’ Daniel told him and cut the connection.
He found Fred looking at him with a large measure of disbelief.
‘I think I caught most of that and if you’re about to do what I think you are, you must have rocks in your head!’ he stated. ‘If ever I heard a set-up – that was it. And not a very good one, at that!’
‘It was certainly clumsy,’ Daniel said, gratefully accepting a mug of coffee. ‘So clumsy, in fact, that it could almost be a genuine call for help. After all, I did leave him my number for just that purpose.’
‘You’re not serious?’
‘Look at it this way – Davy loves the dogs; what if he thinks I can stop Billy from hurting them? He might just take that chance.’
Fred shook his head. ‘I don’t see it,’ he said. ‘You forget, I’ve met the Driscoll brothers a time or two and my impression was that Davy was shit-scared of Billy.’
‘Absolutely terrified!’ Daniel agreed. ‘But what if Billy has done something that’s really upset Davy? People like him can be very stubborn when they get an idea in their head and if there’s a chance that he can tell me something to incriminate our friend Billy, then I want to hear it.’
Fred frowned.
‘Is there something you’re not telling me? This is just about the dogs, isn’t it?’
‘To be honest, I’m not sure,’ Daniel said. ‘That’s why I want to go. Yes, I know,’ he added, holding up his hand to forestall his employer’s protest. ‘It’s risky; but after all, a pub is a public area by its very name and I’ll have Taz with me.’
At the mention of his name the German shepherd raised his head enquiringly and Daniel put a hand down to fondle the dog’s soft ears.
‘You’re not seriously planning to go alone? Let me come with you.’
Daniel shook his head.
‘And what are you going to do – sit in the car? How will that help?’
‘I could at least watch your back.’
‘I’ve got Taz to do that. Look, if Davy sees I’ve not come alone he’ll just as likely take off without saying anything. I’ll be careful, I promise. Besides, it’s your special day. You’re having a meal with Meg, remember?’
‘She’d understand,’ Fred stated, but Daniel could tell that his reminder had hit home. ‘All right, maybe she wouldn’t, but look, I really don’t like this. If Davy does tell you something important – you’ll call the police, then? Promise? No heroics.’
‘Absolutely. Look, why don’t I get Shane to meet me there?’ he suggested after a moment. ‘He’s handy in a dust up, if it should come to that, and Davy knows him.’
‘Well, I suppose so, though I’d be reluctant to trust one pikey to help me against another. They’re tight as a nun’s underwear, those Travellers!’
‘What do you know about nuns’ underwear?’ Daniel asked, amused. ‘No, Shane’s all right. I think I can trust him.’ He drained his mug. ‘Well, I’d better get going, in case I get held up again. The roads won’t get any better.’
He was on his way out the door when Fred spoke again.
‘Look, call me, will you? When it’s over – let me know you’re alive …’
Daniel smiled.
‘OK, Daddy.’
The roads were, in fact, getting steadily worse as Daniel headed north-west, the Mercedes’ tyres swishing on the streaming tarmac and the windscreen wipers battling an almost constant wall of spray. It was a relief to leave the main roads behind and turn into the narrow lane signposted to Bovey Trent.
Badgered by Fred, he had rung Shane before setting out but was foiled by an answering service on which he left a brief message. He had no way of knowing how soon, or even if, Shane would pick up the message, but there was no time to do anything more if he was to meet Davy in anything like the hour he’d promised.
The rain eased a little as he drove between the sheltering high banks and hedges of the Devon lane, but the wind seemed, if anything, stronger. The headlights showed the hedgerows and trees swaying violently from side to side, and leaves and small branches littered the tarmac.
It wasn’t a road he was familiar with and it seemed to go on for ever. Houses were few and far between but presently he came upon a cluster of stone barns at a crossroads where a sign promised that Bovey Trent was only half a mile distant.
As the car drew level with the barns there was a half-seen blur of movement to his right, a dark shape filled the window beside him and something hit the side of the Merc with a resounding thud.
Too late, Daniel braked and swerved. The tyres lost traction on the wet surface and the vehicle slid sideways to impact with the grass bank on the other side of the road.
The conditions and the width of the lane meant that he was barely doing thirty miles an hour and the rain-softened ground cushioned the shock but Daniel had no thought at all for the potential damage to his car. A glance in his wing mirror confirmed his worst fears and in a flash he was out of the car and running back to where a crumpled bicycle lay in the road and, beside it, face down, the bedraggled figure of a child.
Shock drenched him like icy water.
‘Shit!’ he muttered, kneeling next to the kid who was lying ominously still. ‘Where the hell did you come from?’
It was a boy. Razor-cut dark hair had been covered by a baseball cap that now lay some feet away, and he wore loose jeans and a leather bomber jacket, both wet and streaked with mud. On what little could be seen of his face, there was an ominous smear of red, and a fringe of dark lashes lay unmoving against the soft, dirt-streaked skin of his adolescent cheek.
Daniel bent close.
‘Can you hear me?’
There was no response and, aware of the potentially fatal consequences of moving the child, he sat back on his heels and reached for his mobile, putting his other hand gently on the boy’s back to feel for movement.
To his relief, he could feel the lad’s heart thudding strongly and as he flipped open his phone case he thought he saw a flicker of movement from the dark lashes.
‘Can you hear me?’ he repeated, raising his voice to be heard over the howling gale, his own heart thudding to match the child’s. Behind him, shut in the back of the car, Taz began a frenzy of barking, but at that moment he had no time to spare for the dog.
Suddenly the boy turned his head and opened his eyes. Rain coursed down his muddy face and the pupils were as black as coals.
‘Course I can fuckin’ hear you!’ he said, his vigour shocking after the stillness of a moment before.
With a swipe of his hand he sent the phone spinning out of Daniel’s hand and even as he remembered where he’d seen those dark, challenging eyes before, something crashed into the back of his skull and he fell forward, consciousness leaving him before he even hit the ground.
The last thing he heard as darkness closed in was Taz’s furious barking.