Shepherd's Cross (9 page)

5.30pm:
Cara Jones was parked outside number eight, Rowan Lane, dwelling on what a
bitch she must have been in her last life to have ended up working every third
weekend in this one. There were many reasons why she hated working weekends,
but towering above all the others was the fact that she could not be around to play
with her son Luke. It wasn’t that the little fella would be left abandoned to
fend for himself - her philandering ex-husband would be collecting him from
nursery later and looking after him until Monday morning - it was more that she
would simply miss being with him. It annoyed her to think that tomorrow there
would be kids rolling around in the snow on the village green, their proud
parents watching over them, while she spent her day catching up on overdue
paperwork and being held up on her rounds by cantankerous old busybodies with
nothing better to do with their time than whinge about the youth-of-today.
Still, at least she could look forward to an early night: being on duty
tomorrow, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy a glass or three of wine, but a good
night’s sleep was not such a terrible alternative.

On returning from Fellside Hall, she had
spent the remainder of the afternoon in the Station, following up on the
morning’s visit to Banktop Farm. After completing the incident form, she had decided
to check the archived records to see whether or not any other similar incidents
had been reported in the area over the previous couple of years. Her search had
proven unsuccessful; plenty of mindless vandalism, but nothing like this. She
would, however, have been the first person to admit that she hadn’t carried out
the search to her usual exemplary standard; her mind constantly drifted back to
the earlier events at Fellside Hall. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but
there was something unusual about Blackmoor and King. They’d been perfectly
hospitable to both her and Jennings, especially considering that they’d taken
the liberty of calling by unannounced; and they had given entirely reasonable
answers to their questions. But Blackmoor in particular had an enigmatic way
about him; a weird energy that seemed to radiate from him, drawing you into him.
He seemed to have the power to manipulate people, like a hypnotist, turning it
on or off at his discretion. She’d come away with the frustrating feeling that
she had only managed to scratch the surface of Benedict Blackmoor, whereas she
sensed that he’d found out all there was to know about her within two minutes
of their meeting. He had taken everything from her and given her nothing in
return, and this had left her both disappointed and angry at herself for being
so naive.

By 4.30pm, Brian Jennings had hung up
his uniform and headed home for the weekend. Although he lived in the village,
he was extremely adept at keeping his professional and personal lives separate;
woe betide the resident who took it upon themself to knock on his door when he
was off-duty, especially if their reason was trivial and could wait until the
morning. He didn’t mind Cara phoning him if she urgently needed advice, but
certainly nobody else. As he left the Station, he’d asked Cara to follow up on
a conversation he’d had that morning with Yvonne Turner; something about a
disturbance last night at Rowan Lane. Yvonne had told him that the man in
question, Ben Price, worked in Newcastle and wouldn’t be home until after
5.00pm, so perhaps she would be kind enough to quickly call by on her way home
to make sure everything was okay. Hence the reason why she now found herself
waiting impatiently outside his empty house. It had been a long day and she wasn’t
in the mood for hanging around; if he wasn’t here in the next five minutes, she
would have to call again in the morning.

She was on the verge of reversing out of
his drive and heading off, when she noticed a pair of headlights rounding the
corner and moving her way through the falling snow. The car pulled up next to
her, and through her steamed up window she could just about make out the figure
of a man in the front and a small child peering back at her from the rear seat.
She climbed out of her car to speak to them.

‘Hello, my name is Police Constable Cara
Jones,’ she said, smiling at the girl and holding out her identity badge as
proof. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met, which is rather strange for this place! Are
you Ben Price?’

Ben looked at her, concerned by her
presence. ‘Yes, I’m Ben Price, and this is my daughter Chloe. Can I ask what’s
happened? Is there something wrong?’

‘No, nothing serious,’ replied Cara. ‘I
just have a few questions to ask you regarding a disturbance last night at your
house that was reported earlier this morning. Shouldn’t take a minute.’

‘Disturbance? Oh…right…I…errr…I think I
know what you’re referring to. Look, it’s dark and we’re getting covered in
snow here. Why don’t we discuss this inside where it’s warm?’ Ben nodded
towards the front window of the house a couple of doors down from his, behind
which Charlotte Bainbridge was pretending to dust a vase. ‘And,’ he added, ‘where
there aren’t any nosy neighbours gawping at us.’

‘Good idea,’ replied Cara. She smiled at
Chloe, who nervously stared back at her, as if at any moment Cara would
handcuff her daddy and take him away to prison. Cara bent down to look at her
eye to eye. ‘And how old are you, Chloe?’ she asked.

‘Six,’ replied Chloe, ‘and a half.’

‘Six-and-a-half? You must be a
very
clever
girl, then?’

Chloe nodded, some of the fear
disappearing from her face.

‘Would you like me to carry your school
bag into the house for you – it looks full of heavy books?’

‘Okay,’ replied Chloe, handing over her
bag and quickly shuffling across to take hold of her father’s hand as he
proceeded to lead the three of them inside.

‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’
asked Ben, taking off Chloe’s coat and hanging it over a radiator to dry. ‘I’m
having one myself so it’s no bother.’ He walked into the kitchen and filled the
kettle with water, flicking the switch for it to boil before pouring a glass of
apple juice, which he handed to Chloe. ‘For a moment back there, I wasn’t sure
we were going to make it home this evening. The roads are pretty bad. I don’t
think we’ll be going anywhere this weekend.’

‘Coffee would be great, thanks,’ replied
Cara. ‘You’re right - I think we’re in for a few days of this. Hopefully Bill
Hardwick will get his plough out in the next day or two to help clear the
roads. I’m on duty this weekend; I was going to head home after speaking to
you, but I think I’ll take a room at the Youth Hostel.’ She didn’t feel confident
of the drive home, in spite of having a Police Land Rover at her disposal.
Besides, there was only an empty apartment to return to; it would be nice to
catch up with her friend Bronwyn, and the extra half hour in bed tomorrow
morning would be very welcome. Before heading over there, she could maybe even
return to the Station to squeeze in an hour or two of paperwork: not exactly
the most appealing of prospects, but there was a truckload to catch up on and
now was as a good a time as ever.

‘Better safe than sorry. Would you like
to call the Youth Hostel from here? The phone’s on the table in the hall.
There’s a directory on the shelf below it.’

‘If you don’t mind? You never know, one
day they might get round to installing a mobile phone mast around here.
Sometimes I feel like we’re stuck in the dark ages. I won’t be a moment.’

Ben didn’t need to buy any more time to
think of an excuse for his erratic behaviour the previous evening; he’d already
decided on a way out of that one. But he was glad of the opportunity to catch
his breath for a short while and reassure Cara that there was nothing to be
worried about. By the time Cara returned to the kitchen, he’d be confident of
having the situation under control.

‘Sorted,’ said Cara, walking back into
the room and accepting the cup of coffee being offered to her. ‘Thanks again
for letting me use the phone. Now, if I can just ask a few questions and I’ll
leave you two to your evening. At around eight o’clock last night, there were
reports of screaming coming from inside this house. Can you confirm whether or
not you were home at the time?’

‘Yes, I arrived home around seven-thirty
and was here until six this morning.’

‘Were you alone?’ she asked, casually
observing the absence of a ring on the third finger of his left hand. Ben felt
his cheeks reddening slightly as he noticed what she was looking at, and
self-consciously moved his hand into his pocket.

‘Yes, I live alone. Chloe comes to stay
with me every other weekend, but apart from that it’s just me. Anyway…I think I
can explain what all the noise was. I’m afraid it’s rather embarrassing. I had
a nightmare; I can’t remember what it was about, but I remember waking up
drenched with sweat. It must have been pretty frightening because I was making
a hell of a noise when I woke up. Pretty pathetic, I know.’

‘A nightmare? Are you normally asleep by
eight o’clock in the evening?’ She looked at him, immediately gauging from his
defensive body language that he was almost certainly telling a lie.’

Ben’s heart thumped against his chest,
like that of a guilty man discovering that he’s finally been rumbled. All the
same, he opted to persevere with his story. ‘I have difficulty sleeping,’ he
continued, that part at least being truthful. ‘Sometimes I’m so exhausted when
I get home from work that I crash for an hour or so. Then I’ll lie awake half
the night turning things over in my mind – it drives me mad, but I haven’t had
a decent night’s sleep for almost a year. And last night, well, I guess I must
have had a horrible dream or something. I suppose I should apologise to the
neighbours; I didn’t mean to upset anybody.’

Cara could tell by the darkness under
his eyes that he probably wasn’t getting enough sleep.
I wonder if that’s
all he’s not getting enough of.
She blushed at her inappropriate thoughts.
How
long has it been girl? Too bloody long, that’s for sure – and he is rather
handsome...gorgeous eyes…

‘Are you alright?’ asked Ben. ‘You seem
miles away.’

‘Eh? Oh, I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘Sorry,
it’s been a strange day and a long week. Anyway, I hope you’re feeling better
now. It must have been
some
nightmare?’ She still didn’t believe him,
but was prepared to give him the benefit of the considerable doubt; after all,
there didn’t seem anything untoward going on. Most likely he’d done something
foolish and was too embarrassed, or proud, to admit it.

Ben nodded and smiled at her. ‘Feel free
to look around; I promise you there’s nobody buried under the floorboards!’ He
listened to the words as they tripped from his mouth and regretted them
immediately.
Great job Ben – why not throw into the mix a joke about being a
serial killer? Ties in nicely with neighbours’ reports of hearing you howling
at the moon!
‘Whoops, sorry, I always did struggle with the concept of
thinking before you speak. I promise you I’m not some kind of psychopath.’

Fortunately for Ben, Cara found his
ramblings amusing. ‘No need to apologise,’ she laughed. ‘I’ll blame it on your
lack of sleep!’ She couldn’t help warming to Ben: everything about him - the
way he dressed, the way he spoke, the way he acted – was so different to what
she had been used to for the last four months. So refreshing. Ever since she’d
walked out on Mike for cheating on her, life had often felt like a relentless
struggle. She’d worked so hard to finish her training while looking after Luke;
she’d sacrificed so much to make ends meet. Compared to most other thirty-year-olds,
her social life, like her bank balance, was practically non-existent; her world
was like a seesaw, with work sat at one end and childcare at the other.
Standing there with Ben and Chloe made her remember happier times, when her
family unit was strong and life was about more than merely surviving. While it
was true that she adored her son and genuinely loved her job, she couldn’t help
wondering if happier times lay ahead, where there would be more opportunities
to laugh and relax, without having to constantly run around like a hamster on a
wheel.

Cara’s thoughts were interrupted by
Chloe, who was clinging protectively to Ben’s leg. ‘You’re not going to take my
daddy away, are you? I promise he hasn’t been naughty.’

Cara and Ben both laughed. ‘No, Chloe, I
think your daddy can stay here with you. As long as you promise to look after
him. Do you think you could manage that for me?’

Chloe nodded firmly, as if she had just
been given an extremely important job to do.

‘Good. Well, in that case I better be
going. It’s been lovely to meet you Chloe…and you too Ben,’ she smiled. ‘I hope
you don’t have any more nightmares!’

Ben blushed. ‘I’ll try not to, although
you’re more than welcome to check up on me again if I do.’
Did I really just
say that?

‘I might take you up on that,’ she
smiled.
Oh my God, I’m actually flirting with this man!

Ben walked her to the door and opened
it, the chemistry between them seeming to have risen straight to the surface
like a volcano about to erupt. As Cara walked outside, she turned around and
said goodbye to Chloe. She then looked directly at Ben: ‘Thanks for the coffee.
Hopefully this won’t be the last I’ll be seeing of you both?’