Jack Wilkins and Sandra Kent stood looking down on Chough cottage from the top of the lane that ran up from behind the Jolly Pirate. If Daniel Felton was telling them the truth, then they had to concede that the abuser could not have chosen a better vantage point to do the deed. They looked out above the cottage towards the sea. Though the morning was overcast and breezy, with threatening dark clouds looming on the Atlantic horizon, the view was still stunningly impressive.
Kent was holding a plastic forensic bag with some sample cigarette butts which she had collected from the ground. She looked further up the hill. ‘Luke Sadler said that his attacker ran off in that direction… I wonder where it leads to?’
Wilkins started walking up the hill. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’
The lane wound upwards for a further fifty metres before coming to a halt on a small minor road that served as one of the numerous thoroughfares into Tregarris. About fifteen yards along the road there was a narrow layby which could just about have accommodated a small car.
Kent remarked, ‘Handy for a quick getaway from the village if needed.’
Wilkins nodded in agreement but said nothing.
They slowly made their way back down the lane towards the high street. After placing the forensic bag in the boot of the police car, they walked the short distance to Number 6 Pendale Close: the home of Ricky Carlyon. The tiny structure was a typical end-of-terrace cottage made of Cornish granite that dated back a hundred years or more. They knocked on a front door that looked like it could do with a fresh lick of paint. It was promptly answered by a bright-eyed woman, aged somewhere in her mid-fifties.
She saw the two uniforms and immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion. ‘I’ve already been asked about the dead man on the coastal path, I told the officer all I knew about him.’
Sandra Kent smiled politely and cut in quick, ‘We appreciate any help you may have given us so far in our enquiries, but we do have some further questions.’ Having previously confirmed on the electoral role that Ricky Carlyon lived with his mum, Kent went on, ‘I take it you are Mrs Elsie Carlyon… Ricky’s mum?’
There was an immediate look of concern on her face. ‘Is this about Ricky? What has he been up to?’
‘Would it be possible for us to come in for a few minutes and discuss it inside?’
Still wearing a worried face, she ushered them into a small living area where the furniture was solid and serviceable. Sandra thought it felt cosy.
After sitting down opposite each other, Jack Wilkins got down to business. ‘Is Ricky upstairs?’
‘No, he’s just popped out to get me a loaf of bread. What’s this about?’
‘I understand that you wanted to move from here to the Chough cottage.’
Elsie looked surprised. ‘How did you get to hear about that?’
‘Is it correct?’
‘After Ricky’s dad cleared off, Old Tom, who lived in the Chough, became a good friend of mine. I always loved the cottage and Tom said that he liked the thought that one day I might have it after he was gone. It broke my heart when Tom died and I didn’t get it. But what’s that got to do with Ricky?’
Kent answered, ‘It seems that someone has been giving the person who is staying there a hard time.’
Realisation dawned on Elsie Carlyon’s face. ‘And you think it’s my Ricky?’
‘We have reason to think he might be involved.’
They were interrupted by the front door opening as Ricky Carlyon returned with the loaf of bread. He looked unnerved by the sight of the uniformed police. ‘Wha… what’s going on?’
His mum beckoned him over to sit next to her on the couch. ‘It seems that someone has been causing problems for the people in the Chough. I hope you haven’t been doing anything silly, Ricky?’
Wilkins noticed that the young man seemed to take strength from the close proximity of his mum and had regained his composure. ‘Of course I haven’t.’
Wilkins looked him in the eye. ‘Is it true that you were deeply upset when your mum failed to purchase the Chough?’
He looked disgruntled as he answered, ‘Wouldn’t you be? My mum had set her heart on it. All these Emmets buying second homes is pricing us out of the market.’
Elsie Carlyon joined in. ‘It’s a killer for the youngsters – how are they supposed to get on the ladder today?’
Ricky went on. ‘A lot of my mates have had to move away.’
Wilkins could see that Ricky was bitter and a bit of a mummy’s boy. But did that make him the abuser on the hill? After all, Luke Sadler had been pretty certain it was someone else who had clobbered him. Besides which, he guessed there were probably many others in Tregarris that felt as he did.
Meanwhile Elsie Carlyon was warming to the subject. ‘People say that the tourism is booming, but at what cost? Friends are moving away, families are drifting apart and customs are dying out. We’ve lost the community.’
Sandra Kent had some sympathy for their sentiments, but she was there to do a job. She turned her attention back to Ricky. There were no obvious signs he was a smoker. She studied his features closely once more. He would not have been bad-looking if it wasn’t for the almost permanent scowl that soured his expression. ‘So you can honestly say that you have had nothing to do with the harassment?’
‘No.’
Did his eyes waver for just a moment before his one-word answer? Sandra thought it was difficult to tell. ‘Are you a regular customer in the Jolly Pirate, Ricky?’
‘Of course I am. It’s one of the few places to go around here.’
Wilkins turned back to Elsie. ‘Do you mind me asking how long it’s been since your husband left, Mrs Carlyon?’
‘Ten very long years – it’s never easy bringing up a young boy on your own.’ She gave Ricky a hug. ‘I’ve always wanted Ricky to have a normal life. It’s hard to know how much discipline to apply. He may not have had many material things, but I’ve always tried to give him plenty of love.’
Wilkins and Kent were left with plenty to think about when they eventually left the Carlyons’ house and walked back to the car.
Kent spoke first. ‘The mum seemed decent enough, but I can’t make up my mind about Ricky.’
Wilkins agreed, ‘I know what you mean. He’s not totally convincing and he’s definitely not happy.’
They were just about to return to Helston, when a call came in from HQ informing them about the burglary in the Jolly Pirate from the night before.
Jack Wilkins turned to Kent with a wry grin. ‘It all seems to be happening in Tregarris.’
Ten minutes later they were standing at the backdoor of the Jolly Pirate with Reg Turner.
Jack Wilkins was examining the faulty bolt with interest. ‘You say it’s recently been playing up?’
Reg confirmed, ‘The last couple of weeks it’s been temperamental. I was meaning to get it fixed. Looks like I left it too late.’
‘I may be mistaken, but it’s possible that someone had previously loosened it with a chisel. See that groove in the woodwork?’
Reg leaned forward to take a closer look. ‘I’ll be jiggered, so it is.’
Wilkins noticed that the gents’ toilet was only a few yards away. He nodded towards it. ‘Looks like any number of people would have had the opportunity. Did anyone else know that the bolt was loose?’
Reg thought hard. ‘Not as far as I know, though I suppose anyone could have noticed it.’
‘We’ll get forensics over to take a look. Maybe the intruder left some dabs, though somehow I doubt it. It has all the hallmarks of it being planned.’
They walked through to the bar area and examined the till. ‘How much did you say was missing?’
Reg pulled a pained expression. ‘As I say, I’ve recently noticed some small amounts going missing, but last night it was about £300. I’m well pissed off because most evenings I empty the till after closing. I was a bit tired last night and it just went out of my mind. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that, but up till now there had never been a problem. Needless to say, I won’t be doing it again.’
Wilkins looked sympathetic. ‘Unfortunately you only have to be unlucky once. The one night you don’t do it, it’s always the way. What you can do is make sure you get that lock repaired as soon as possible.’
Reg shook his head ruefully. ‘I suppose I’d better get the doors open for the lunchtime rush, see if I can get some of my money back.’
‘Good idea.’
As they left the pub to return to the car, Jack Wilkins recognised Martin Everett’s old colleague from the Met walking along the high street. What was his name… Reid? What was he doing here in Tregarris? He would have to remember to mention it to his boss. After briefly mentioning the sighting to Sandra, they drove out of Tregarris, with both of them feeling they had more questions than answers. If they had taken one more glance behind them, they would have seen Mark Reid entering the Jolly Pirate as one of Reg Turner’s first customers of the day.
*
Daniel stood in the churchyard with his phone to his ear. He was talking to Lauren. She sounded stressed. ‘It must be something serious for Luke to stop me coming down to see you.’
Daniel did his best to reassure her. ‘We just have to sort out a couple of issues, that’s all.’
Lauren’s patience finally snapped, as she shouted, ‘Will you please tell me what’s going on?’
Daniel’s voice faltered slightly. ‘A man was found dead on the coastal path and someone has mistakenly put me in the frame.’ There was a deathly quiet at the end of the line. Daniel felt his voice becoming increasingly desperate. ‘The thing is, I don’t think the police are totally sure of my innocence so I still have to convince them.’ The silence at the other end of the line was deafening. Daniel pleaded, ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’
There was a slight sob in Lauren’s voice when she finally answered, ‘I need to think. I honestly don’t know what to believe anymore.’ The line went dead.
Feeling totally despondent, Daniel put the phone back in his pocket and slowly made his way back to the village.
Stepping out of the shadows, the man they called Vince watched him go.
*
Mark Reid sat in the bar of the Jolly Pirate savouring the last few dregs of his pint. Unfortunately his Cornish excursion was coming to an end. He had extended his stay for as long as he could, but it was time for him to get back to London and claim his fee from Joe Blades. He also had the small matter of removing the GPS tracker from Luke Sadler’s car. It was a shame he had to go back; he felt so relaxed. He could not remember the last time he had felt so much in the moment. Looking back over his life it seemed to have been one long road of marriage, career, mortgage, promotion boards, financial struggles, divorce and pensions. These last few days in Cornwall had brought home to him that there could be a more enjoyable way to exist. Another way to enjoy the life he had remaining. His one outstanding disquiet was the welfare of Daniel Felton. He made the decision that before he left for home, he would ring his old colleague Martin Everett and voice his concerns. He could then leave with a clear conscience and hopefully Daniel would be in safe hands.
With his mind settled on the matter of Daniel, it was coincidental that he should catch sight of him as he exited the Jolly Pirate. He could see immediately that Daniel looked distracted and upset. He followed at a distance as he watched him head towards the Chough. Much to his surprise, Daniel walked straight past the cottage and went on in the direction of the coastal path. The weather conditions did not look ideal for a walk along the coast. It was starting to rain heavily and a discernible mist was beginning to descend from the afternoon sky.
Reid was just about to turn around and head back to the high street, when a man suddenly appeared from the direction of the Chough. From his stealthy body language, it was obvious he was stalking Daniel as he walked towards the path. There was something familiar about the figure: his large athletic build, the way he moved. Reid felt a surge of adrenaline as recognition finally dawned. It was Max Roberts, a well-known London heavy. Unfortunately it appeared that the fears he had felt for Daniel’s welfare had proved well founded. It looked pretty obvious that Max had been employed by Joe Blades to dish out some well-targeted intimidation and fear. He knew from experience that Roberts was chillingly good at that: it came natural to him. This was getting serious. He hurriedly fished in his pocket for DI Everett’s card. He rang the number.
*
Luke Sadler was sat in his office in Hoxton looking troubled. He had just received a call from the garage where his Audi was being serviced. They had just given him the disturbing news that they had found a tracking device in his wheel arch. Sitting there struggling to make sense of it, he suddenly recalled Kate mentioning she had recently noticed an occupied Ford Fiesta parked outside the office on more than one occasion. At the time he had not given it much thought. But now he was pretty convinced that it must have had something to do with Daniel. Though he had not driven directly to Tregarris in the Audi, he had used the car previously for his trip to Helston. Feeling a rising concern, he decided to give Sergeant Wilkins a call. Helston HQ took a while to pick up before answering.
‘Can you put me through to Sergeant Wilkins, please?’
‘Hold on.’ There was a further minute of silence before the operator replied, ‘Sorry, he is not available at the minute, he has been called out to an urgent incident. I would suggest you call back later.’
Luke was not listening to the last part. His blood had run cold.
*
Daniel felt his tears mingling with the driving rain as he wandered aimlessly along the coastal path. The phone call with Lauren had left him feeling utterly distraught. She had made it pretty obvious from her emotional reaction that even she now doubted him. Lost in the misery of his thoughts, he barely noticed the figure in the distance walking towards him. It was only as he drew near that he noticed it was a man. Daniel felt his stomach lurch as he immediately recognised the man’s menacing sneer. It was one of the men who had threatened him back in London. He went to turn back the way he had come, but his escape route was cut off. The other heavy who had partnered him in London was blocking the way. Daniel felt sick with fear.
The man before him continued to smirk maliciously, before shouting above the wind and rain, ‘Fancy seeing you here, Mr Felton. It’s a small world, I guess.’
Daniel remained silent. He could think of nothing to say.
The man laughed. ‘Cat got your tongue, Mr Felton?’
The other man behind Daniel stood silent and unsmiling, his body language somehow nonchalantly sinister.
The first man suddenly advanced swiftly towards Daniel and grabbed the collar of his parka. His face was uncomfortably close. ‘I don’t want to have to hurt you, Daniel, but we do still have the small matter of your debts to settle. I take it you were planning to return to London after this little holiday?’
Daniel just about managed a slight nod of the head.
‘As you can imagine, our man in London is not best pleased with you running away. Especially after you promised him you would pay all the money you owe. As it is, it looks like I may have to let Max loose on you.’
Daniel heard a deep chuckle from the man behind him. He turned around and squinted desperately through the rain at the malevolent expression on the man’s face. Struggling to stifle a despairing sob, he steeled himself for the worst.
It was then that they heard a voice, struggling to compete with the howling wind. ‘I hope you are not going to do anything silly, boys.’ It was Mark Reid. He had managed to creep up on them and was now standing behind the silent man he knew as Max Roberts. It had not surprised him to see that Max had an accomplice, even less so that it was Vince Mitchell. He knew from past experience that the two men had worked together a long time in the business of intimidation.
Mitchell let go of Daniel’s collar in surprise. ‘What’s it to do with you?’
Reid shouted back, ‘I really don’t like to see someone being bullied. It’s as simple as that.’
Vince squinted through the driving rain. He had the vague feeling he had seen the man before but couldn’t place him. ‘Is that so? I think you would be wise to carry on walking and mind your own business.’
‘I’m sorry. I really can’t do that.’
Mark Reid was playing for time. The police should be arriving any minute. What was keeping them? He suddenly felt a vice like grip on his shoulders, followed by Max’s menacing voice in his ear. ‘Oh, I think you can.’ The big man had got the jump on him.
Though caught by surprise, Reid saw an opportunity. Seeing that Daniel was momentarily free to run away, he shouted, ‘Run, Daniel!’ before turning and twisting in Max’s grip.
Daniel needed no further instruction; in an instant he was away from Vince’s clutching hands and running back towards the village for all his worth.
Though Max Roberts was a big unit, Reid forcefully used his body weight to pull him off balance. As the momentum forced them both backwards, Mark Reid felt his foot give way underneath him. For five precarious seconds the two of them spun in a perilous pirouette, before they both over-balanced and disappeared over the edge of the coastal path. The two men were to remain locked in an eternal embrace as they hurtled to the rocks below.
For some seconds, Vince Mitchell stood transfixed in shock. The horror had all unfolded in front of him so quickly, yet the mental flashback he’d just witnessed seemed to keep playing back to him in slow motion. He eventually moved cautiously to the edge of the path and looked over. The two men were lying quite still on a solitary boulder, caressed by the lapping waves and still gruesomely locked together in a mass of twisted limbs. Vince stood there mesmerised by the sight, a sick feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach.
He was brought back urgently into the moment by somebody shouting. It was Sergeant Wilkins, accompanied by two uniformed officers. On seeing the uniform, Vince’s immediate instinct was to run away. He made a dash for the lane that led back across the fields towards the village.
After closing the gate behind her and entering the field, it did not take long for Sandra Kent to see the man running frantically towards her. Though he was still some distance away, the man’s athletic build more than matched the description she had been given. She had been delegated to take the back path through the churchyard in order to cut off any such escape route. Her pulse quickened as she took cover in the hedge that framed the field. She remembered that Jack Wilkins’ last words had been to remind her that the two men were known to be dangerous, so she had to be sensible in calculating any risk. Crouched in the hedge, she could feel her own breathing becoming more rapid as she heard the man’s heavy footfall drawing closer. She steeled herself and waited for the right moment.
Vince had only managed to get halfway across the field before Sandra Kent appeared from nowhere and pounced on his back. He swore and flung his elbows back savagely, but Sandra continued to hang on tenaciously. She let out a cry as a flailing elbow hit her squarely in the eye, but she continued to cling on with grim determination. As Vince contorted his body in every direction in an attempt to throw her off his back, she could feel her grip gradually loosening. With the strength beginning to drain from her, she began to slide slowly but surely towards the ground.
It was at that point that she heard the welcome voice of Jack Wilkins. ‘Great work, Sandra, I reckon we can take it from here.’
*
Daniel felt his legs beginning to buckle with exhaustion as he finally came to a halt. He had no idea for how long or how far he had run; he only knew that he needed to get as much distance as he possibly could between him and the two men. As he stood there in the wind and rain, trembling and drained of energy, a wave of morbid despair crept over him. Not for the first time, he felt he was losing his sanity. Feeling nauseous and dizzy, he sat down on the grass verge that skirted the path. His original instinct had been to run back towards the cottage, but on seeing the police cars approaching he had continued running along the path. What did they want? Were they coming to arrest him for the murder of Duncan Fraser? Why did no one believe him? Now even Lauren doubted him. He felt that his life had descended into one long nightmare in which there could only be one ending. He got up unsteadily and looked down onto the jagged rocks below. He moved closer to the edge. Just one small step and all his misery could be over. It would be so easy…
*
It had been a busy afternoon at Helston HQ. The Cornwall Search and Rescue Team had taken some time in retrieving the bodies of Max Roberts and Mark Reid in the difficult weather conditions. It had caused a significant delay in the resultant paperwork and numerous written reports that were a necessary requirement after such a tragic incident. It was one of those situations when staff numbers suddenly felt a bit stretched. This had not been helped by the fact that Sergeant Wilkins had accompanied PC Kent to the Helston Community Hospital to get her eye checked out.
DI Everett looked thoughtfully across the desk at Vince Mitchell, as the big man finished his account of the events that had led to the tragic death of Mark Reid. From what Mitchell had told him, it sounded like Reid had died a hero’s death. Everett now felt he owed it to his old mentor to get the man behind the money-lending operation. In the brief and urgent phone call he had received from Reid earlier, he’d mentioned the two heavies were working for someone in London. Unfortunately any hopes of Reid revealing who that could have been had been killed off with his old Met colleague’s demise. Since returning to Helston HQ, Martin Everett had deliberately left the traumatised Vince Mitchell to stew in the cells for a bit: now he was going to turn the screw. There was no doubt Mitchell was a nasty piece of work, but he was after the organ grinder not the monkey. Men like Mitchell and the now-dead Max Roberts were minnows in the bigger scheme of things. He was after the bigger fish. After some further deliberation he finally made his move.
He placed a pad and pencil in front of the big man. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do, Vince. You give me the name of the man you are working for in London, and I will let you walk away from this mess a free man.’
Mitchell looked back at him with a cold stare and remained silent.
Everett was undaunted, as he nodded once more towards the pad and pencil. ‘You have my word on it. Relocation, new identity, it’s your choice.’
Mitchell was still in a state of deep shock. He felt numb. With Max gone for good, nothing was ever going to be the same again. The option that the copper was presenting looked like his only opportunity to start afresh and take a different route. In the criminal world there were always risks involved in disloyalty, but he was prepared to take that chance. In that moment it really did not seem a difficult decision. He slowly reached across for the pencil.
*
As soon as Sandra Kent managed to satisfy the doctor that there was no permanent damage to her badly bruised eye, all she wanted was to get back to her Cambourne flat, have a shower and get a good night’s sleep. She agreed to Jack Wilkins’ suggestion to drive her home, as she was in no fit condition to drive herself. The painful encounter with Vince Mitchell had shaken her more than she cared to admit. She had already taken some paracetamol earlier on, but the pain in her injured eye had come back with a vengeance. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the constant throbbing as they drove back to Cambourne. At least the storm had passed. The late afternoon air was now cold, clear and crisp. When they arrived back at the flat, Jack Wilkins insisted on escorting her to the door. She invited him in and apologised for the untidiness of the room. He told her not to worry, he had seen worse, and ushered her to the chair.
He looked at her and smiled sympathetically. ‘You do look rough.’
‘I feel it.’ She fished in her bag for some more painkillers and went to get up.
Wilkins ordered. ‘I’ll take those, you stay seated.’ He went to the kitchen.
Sandra didn’t normally like too much fuss, but she felt happy to be pampered for once. She shouted, ‘There is some milk in the fridge if you want a coffee.’
‘Thanks for the offer but I’d better get back sharpish – DI Everett was looking a bit pressured.’ He returned with the tablets and a glass of milk. ‘Get those down you.’
Sandra swallowed the tablets and closed her eyes. ‘Thanks.’
‘Martin Everett will be real proud of what you did today.’
Sandra opened her one good eye. ‘Do you think?’
Wilkins nodded. ‘Really heroic, and he would be right.’ For one brief second they looked at each other affectionately. ‘We’ll see how you are tomorrow. You might need a day off.’
Sandra dismissed him with a wave of her hand. ‘I’ll be fine – mind you, I’ll need someone to come and pick me up.’
Jack Wilkins grinned. ‘At your service.’
Sandra closed her eyes once again. ‘Thanks, Jack, see you in the morning.’
He closed the door softly as he left the flat.
On the drive back to Helston, he received a radio message from HQ that Luke Sadler had been trying to get in touch with him. In all the excitement and drama of the events which had unfolded that afternoon, he’d forgotten all about Daniel Felton. He rang Luke’s number.
Luke answered immediately; he sounded anxious. ‘Hello.’
‘Hello, Mr Sadler, Sergeant Wilkins here.’
‘Hello, Sergeant, I’ve been trying to get hold of you all afternoon. I heard that you’d been called away urgently – did it have anything to do with Daniel?’
‘It did, but don’t worry, Daniel is OK.’
‘Thank God for that. There’s been no way I can reach him, I’ve been worried sick.’
‘Basically, those two men you told us about somehow managed to track him down.’
‘I think I know how. My car was in for a service today and the mechanic discovered a tracking device hidden in the wheel arch.’
‘That would be it then.’
‘So can you tell me what happened?’
Wilkins chose his words carefully. ‘The good news is we managed to save Daniel from a potentially sticky situation; the bad news is there were a couple of fatalities, sadly one of them being the man who helped Daniel. It’s complicated, so the press have not been told too much at present. You’ll know a bit more when it’s all made public.’
‘Would it be possible for you to get Daniel to ring me?’
Wilkins looked at the time. It was coming up to six in the evening. It would mean driving past Helston and on to Tregarris. He was just about to answer in the negative when Luke spoke again.
‘Please, I really would appreciate it.’
There was a hint of desperation in Luke’s voice. Wilkins felt himself weaken. What was another thirty minutes on his journey? ‘OK, I’ll see if I can track him down.’
‘Thanks, Sergeant.’
He quickly radioed in a message to HQ, giving them the reason for his delayed return.
The Chough was in darkness when Wilkins arrived at the cottage and parked his car. Daniel’s Fiat was parked outside but there were no signs of life inside. He pulled on the bell rope outside the door. The reverberations lingered mournfully in the cold night air, but there was no answer. Thinking there was only one likely place where Daniel would possibly spend his time on such a night, he decided to walk along to the Jolly Pirate and take a look. The pub was even livelier than normal for a Thursday night, as not surprisingly there had been plenty of excitement generated by the afternoon’s events. Many curious faces turned to stare as the uniformed Jack Wilkins entered the pub. Doing his best to look impervious to the attention, Wilkins’ eyes scanned the bar for Daniel. He was nowhere to be seen. He spotted the publican and approached him. ‘Hello again, Mr Turner, have you seen the young man from the Chough, Daniel Felton, in here tonight?’
Reg looked relieved. ‘So he wasn’t one of the men that went off the cliff this afternoon, I’m so glad to hear that.’
Wilkins reassured him on that point. ‘No, Mr Turner, if that is the rumour, I can officially confirm right now that there is no truth in it. But I take it from that you haven’t seen him?’
‘No, not a sign of him.’
‘If he does come in here tonight, can you ask him to ring his cousin?’
‘No problem.’
Wilkins suddenly remembered. ‘Have you fixed your backdoor yet?’
Reg grinned genially. ‘It’s all sorted, Sergeant.’
Wilkins gestured around the busy bar. ‘If your custom carries on like this, you’ll soon get your money back.’
Reg shook his head ruefully. ‘Unfortunately it looks like dead bodies are good for business. It’s a strange world.’
Wilkins had to agree. ‘It sure is.’
As Jack Wilkins walked back to his car, he was in a bit of a dilemma. Daniel was nowhere to be found, but he felt it was a little too early to start getting worried. Daniel would have been frightened out of his wits when the two heavies turned up and had probably decided to lie low until the coast was clear. He certainly did not want to needlessly alarm his cousin. Luke Sadler sounded worried enough already. He decided to pass on the news of Daniel’s absence to Martin Everett when he got back. It would be for his boss to decide if and when the time was right to employ the Cornwall Search and Rescue Team once more.
*
Daniel felt himself stumble for the umpteenth time. He was shaking and confused. He vaguely remembered running inland across the fields, but with the moon casting its mysterious shadows, he had become totally disorientated, losing all sense of time and place. He had completely forgotten what he was running from. He had no idea where he was running to. Why was he even running? At that moment he didn’t have a clue. His eyes were struggling to focus as he stared into the murky gloom. Thirty yards ahead of him loomed a dark shape. It was a structure of some kind. He staggered awkwardly towards it, hardly able to lift his feet. The building seemed to have a wall missing. He fell inside. It was a derelict old barn. He slowly crawled towards the corner and rolled into a ball. He felt safe here. No one could touch him. He was shivering and his eyes felt heavy. There was what looked like an old sheet of tarpaulin lying nearby. He pulled it over him and fell asleep within seconds.
*
It was just approaching midnight when Jack Wilkins returned to the Chough cottage accompanied by two officers. It had been agreed that he should return to Tregarris one more time after discussing Daniel’s disappearance with DI Everett earlier that evening. As before, the cottage looked dark and empty, with Daniel’s car still parked outside. Once more there was no response from inside after Wilkins rang the bell. He looked up at the upstairs windows. Of course there was a chance that Daniel was hiding inside. He was reluctant but it could not be helped. He signalled for one of the officers to break the lock on the front door. There was a loud crack before the officer pushed open the door and entered. Wilkins followed him in and quickly searched for the light switch. As the light flooded the hallway he shouted Daniel’s name, before mounting the small staircase that led to the bedrooms. After a quick search, it was obvious that Daniel had not returned to the cottage since his encounter with the two men earlier that day. Returning downstairs, he took one more look around. His eyes fell upon the large grandfather clock, its hands stopped at three o’clock. He suddenly felt a cold shudder, as if someone had poured cold water down his neck. He felt what could only be described as morbid anxiety beginning to creep over him. Fortunately he did not have time to dwell on this as he was soon joined by the two officers and they exited the cottage together.
After a swift makeshift repair to secure the front door, the three of them walked up to the coastal path and had a quick scan left and right. A cold, biting breeze was gusting in from the moonlit coastline. It was not a night to be spent outdoors. Wilkins called out Daniel’s name and listened, but the only sound to be heard was the receding echoes of his own voice. When they got back to the car, he radioed in to DI Everett to inform him of Daniel’s continued disappearance. Unfortunately it now looked to be another job for the search and rescue team.
On the drive back to Helston, Jack Wilkins was a little distracted in his thoughts. He was feeling strangely unsettled and he realised that it was not just his concern for Daniel Felton that had left him with a bad feeling. There was something else. He could not begin to explain it, but he had been disturbed by something in the atmosphere back at the empty cottage. He glanced at his wristwatch. It was now well into the early hours. It did not look like he would be getting any sleep tonight.