And The Earth Moved: Romantic Comedy Cozy Mystery (Amber Reed CCIA Mystery Book 1) (17 page)

Chapter Twenty Four

I fiddle with the zip on my jacket for what must be about the twentieth time in a few minutes. The clock in the dashboard reveals it is now twenty eight minutes since I arrived back at Charlie’s car and locked the doors as instructed. Give it thirty minutes he’d said, then go if I’m not back.

I check the clock again. Twenty nine minutes. Can I do it? Can I really drive off and leave him to God knows what fate? What if he’s been captured by the smugglers? What if he’s fallen down a hundred foot deep quarry hole and is injured or…

No, I tell myself. I shiver. Stop thinking like that.

I check the clock again.

Thirty minutes.

The keys to his car jangle in my pocket. I don’t want to have to attempt to drive this monster of a 4x4 back to the village.

I don’t want to leave Charlie up here.

I have to go and find him.

If I end up in trouble in some way then he’ll no doubt shout at me - a lot - for ignoring his instructions.

If I end up rescuing him, then he’ll be glad I ignored his orders.

The walk from the edge of the quarry to the car only took me about ten minutes before and I’m pretty certain I can remember the way back. I was in the Girl Guides for a while when I was about eight years old and took the navigation or orienteering badge, or whatever it was called.

I can handle this.

As I’d made my way back to the car before I’d looked for landmarks. A fallen tree off to the right. A large rock off the pathway to the left. I could use those again to guide me back to the quarry.

I start to pick my way back through the woodlands, all the time giving myself a mental pep talk. I can do this. It’s just a wood.

In the dark.

With creepy noises.

I’m alone as far as I know but anybody could be out there, lurking in the bushes. Watching me. Don’t think like that, I chastise myself. Think positive thoughts instead.

A twig snaps under my feet and I pause, holding my breath. Then I hear it. Dogs. The unmistakable sound of barking, getting nearer. Now I hear voices too, they’re shouting. I turn my head from one side to the other, trying to gauge what direction the noises are coming from through the thick undergrowth. Are the dogs heading towards me or (my preferred option) away from me? It’s almost impossible to tell. The woods are playing tricks on me, the breeze making the voices flow towards me one second and then fade to nothing the next.

Before I can make up my mind a hand comes out of nowhere and clamps over my mouth.

Terrified I try to struggle but whoever the hand belongs to is holding me tight, one arm around my waist, pulling me close. I try to scream but the hand muffles my cry so I’m unable to make little more than a stifled gasp.

God help me, I silently pray.

Charlie was right.

I should have driven off and left him as he’d told me to.

Chapter Twenty Five

“It’s OK,” a voice whispers in my ear. “Amber, it’s me, Charlie.”

Relief surges through me.

“Don’t say a word,” he whispers, before slowly removing his hand.

I turn and meet his gaze. He gestures with his head in the direction behind us. Is that the way he wants us to go? Is it the way back to the car? In the darkness I feel disorientated, unsure which way is which.

Charlie takes my hand and leads me off through the woods, running in his case and stumbling along in mine, through the thick undergrowth. I hope and pray we’re moving away from the voices and the dogs, which part of me is convinced are getting closer and louder. A tangle of brambles catches around my ankle and I lose my footing but Charlie manages to somehow keep me upright. 

Lights from the torches appears to be both ahead and behind us now and I remind myself Charlie knows what’s he’s doing. He is leading us in the right direction.

“Can you swim?” he asks, briefly glancing at me, before turning his attention back to the increasingly dense undergrowth we’re battling our way through.

“What? Why?” I ask, confused. Now is not the time for small talk about what I can and cannot do.

“Can you?” he says again, agitation now creeping into his voice.

“Yes. Quite well actually but I don’t see what…”

“Good. We can’t get back to the car this way. If I’m right we’re going to end up on the edge of the quarry, on a different side to where we were earlier. It’s a dead end. We’ll be cornered. The only way to get out of here will be to jump off the edge and into a flooded disused quarry hole.”

“Jump?” Terror engulfs me. My fear of heights rears its ugly head again. He wants me to jump off a quarry ledge into water? Is he completely insane?

Charlie clasps my hand more tightly. “It’s not a big drop. Only thirty foot or so I think. You’ll be fine.”

Far too soon we reach the edge of the woods and the edge of the quarry. A seven-foot high wire fence blocks our path.

“Charlie! Now what?” Behind us I’m convinced the voices and barks are growing ever nearer. “We can’t jump, not with the fence.” I scan left and right, trying to make out if we can get around the edge of the quarry somewhere.

A noise at my feet makes me look down and I see Charlie scrambling underneath the fence, courtesy of a loose section. He pushes his way through and then crouches, offering me his hand, ready to help me. On the other side of the fence there’s a rocky promontory and then nothing but the black of the quarry.

“Amber, come on,” Charlie urges me through the fence.

Scrambling through the mud and damp grass, I feel Charlie’s hands haul me unceremoniously to the other side.

“Right, we run from here on the count of three and just jump at the edge.”
He’s backing up against the fence giving us as much space as possible to, quite literally, take a running jump.

I shake my head and pull my hand free of his. “Charlie. I can’t.”

He grabs my hand back. “Yes. You can. You have to.”

“No,” I shake my head again, on the verge of crying now. “I can’t. Why are we running away? Can’t you just flash your CCIA badge at them and arrest them or something?”

He shakes his head. “These aren’t the type of people who stand around patiently whilst you show them your ID. These are the kind of people who act first and ask questions later. Possibly, if you’re still alive by then that is. And we’re running not just because of what they might do to you but also because of what they might do to me. CCIA badge or not. This is a case of personal safety first.”

“But you have a gun,” I continue to argue my case.

“So do they and they have ferocious attack dogs too. Now can we jump?”

I shake my head. “No. You go.”

I expect him to shout, to swear, to try to force me, somehow manhandle me over the edge of the quarry with him. Instead he steps towards me, gently tilting my chin up with one hand. “You’re not a coward, Amber. I know you’re not. You’re a fighter. Determined. Strong. You can do this. You know you can. You’re not going to give in.”

I waiver under his intense gaze, my flimsy confidence bolstered slightly by his words. “I don’t know.”

Charlie slips a hand into mine and shrugs. “Fine. If you stay, I stay. No way am I leaving you here.”

The voices are so close now I can make out what they’re saying. Panic rises up in me, a flood of fear and doubt. Shouts of
‘this way’
and
‘over here’
punch their way through the woods.

Can I do this? Jump into the black quarry hole to land in freezing cold water?

Do I have any choice?

I glance at Charlie, his face clouded with uncertainty. He’s prepared to stay with me, risk his own life, risk God knows what, if I refuse to jump.

“They have guns,” he reminds me, his voice calm, gazing at me intently. “And dogs.”

Suddenly something clicks in my brain and the fear of guns and dogs overtakes the fear of throwing myself off a cliff into an abyss.

Just like he probably knew it would.

I take a deep breath and nod.

“Yes?” he checks, seeking my assurance before we start to run.

I’m shaking all over and my teeth won’t stop chattering but I just manage to say, “Yes.”

Charlie grips my hand more tightly and starts to count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Jump.

Chapter Twenty Six

I still can’t stop shivering. The jump was terrifying and exciting and exhilarating all at the same time. But we did it. When I’d hit the water I’d felt disorientated, shocked by the cold but within seconds I’d felt Charlie’s arm around me, hauling me to the edge of the pool and safety. Hiding under a small ledge out of sight he had asked if I was OK. No injuries? I’d confirmed I was shaken but uninjured.

Now, soaking wet and shaking uncontrollably, I’m crouching amongst the bushes on the edge of the woods next to Charlie. He’s pulled off his own coat - a black leather jacket - and wrapped it around me. Yes, it’s wet as well but it’s another layer against the cold night air and feels strangely comforting as I snuggle into it. We wait to make sure there are no more voices or barks before slowly starting to make our way across the side of the quarry. We’re careful to stay out of sight, until we can begin the climb up the path which leads back towards the lane where the car is parked. 

When we do eventually get back Charlie insists on checking the car is safe on his own; making sure it hasn’t been discovered or is being watched, under covert surveillance, people waiting for our return. 

A few moments later he waves across at me and I attempt to sprint towards the car, my legs still feeling wobbly and weak.

Charlie’s already started the car and leans across to open the passenger door for me. I clamber inside and clip the seatbelt into place, dripping water all over the leather seats.  Charlie turns the heater up full blast as we set off down the lane towards the village.

“Back to my place I think,” he says. “The guest house has just what we both need right now.”

“Right, of course, a fire,” I say as we speed towards Ennis’ place.

“No,” he replies, doing another one of those super quick gear changes. “A hot tub.”

“There’s a hot tub at the guest house? How come I didn’t see that the times I stayed in the spare room?”

“It’s out the back in an enclosed courtyard area.”

I try to stop my teeth chattering as we make the ten minute journey back to the house.

It probably looks as though we’re attempting to play a game of Twister as we move around each other, hopping from one leg to another as we pull off wet boots and dispose of coats in the hallway of the guest house so we don’t drip too much on the expensive flooring.

“I’ll go and get us some towels,” I say, having learnt where the linen cupboard was on my sleepovers.

“You OK up there?” Charlie’s voice drifts up the steep stairs to where I’m standing, trying to decide what to do. I’ve just realised, as appealing at the hot tub sounds right now, I am minus a swimsuit.

“Yes, fine,” I shout back then make my way downstairs.

“Come on.” He reaches for my hand and leads me through the kitchen towards the back door and into a utility room. He’s been reaching for my hand a lot these past few days and, despite the often dire circumstances, I like it.

“There’s a clothes dryer hidden in that cupboard just behind you,” he gestures.

I stand, still unsure what to do.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he starts stripping off. First the jumper, then the t-shirt and now his hands are heading towards the zip on his black jeans.

“I don’t have anything to, er, put on,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush red.

He stops undressing. “That’s OK. Clothing is optional in this hot tub.”

“Oh, but…”

He steps forward and rests a hand on my arm. “Amber, you are going to freeze to death if you don’t get those clothes off now. Why don’t you go outside, get undressed, leave your clothes on the floor and hop straight into the water? It’s a deep tub, you’ll be fine. I’ll stay in here till you shout it’s OK, then come out and fetch your clothes and chuck them in the dryer. How does that sound?”

It sounds perfectly reasonable.

Unfortunately.

“OK.”

Outside I do a strip in record time, fling my stuff on the floor and sink with a huge sigh of relief into the bubbling and steaming hot tub.

“OK,” I shout to Charlie sliding further under the water because it’s blissfully warm. And also because I want to hide my practical but less than sexy underwear beneath the bubbling waters of the tub as quickly as possible. Well, who goes on a secret mission to a quarry in the middle of the night wearing their finest lingerie? A balcony bra and hipster briefs in delicate silk aren’t exactly practical for the kind of night I’ve had.

When I leapt off the edge of that quarry – my heart starts to pound again at the memory – I was glad I was wearing a practical and comfortable black sports bra and what my mother would call ‘sensible’ black briefs. Now, in the hot tub, they could pass for a bikini-of-sorts. Just. I couldn’t strip everything off. I chickened out.

The door from the cottage opens and Charlie appears, a towel wrapped around his waist. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. Tall, lean but with those strong arms and shoulders. Not a hair on his muscular, battle-scarred chest. Injuries from what I wonder? From his time in special ops in the Army? From his work with the CCIA?

He picks up my discarded clothes and takes them inside the cottage, presumably to bundle them in the dryer.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks a few moments later as he reappears, fixing me with a cheeky smile and gesturing towards the opposite end of the tub.

“Nope, help yourself.”

He reaches for the edge of his towel. “I decided to just dump everything in the dryer. Easier that way. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, but…” I hastily avert my eyes, inspecting the evergreen climber which curls its way up the fence next to the hot tub to avoid seeing something I shouldn’t. Well, maybe I should.

I could probably just sneak a little look but then…

I feel his hand on my own, resting on the edge of the tub, but I daren’t turn round.

“It’s OK. You can look. I’m decent.”

Gingerly I turn to face him and try not to let my eyes drop down, you know where, into the water. Just in case.

“Mmm. This was a good idea,” he says as he sinks deeper into the water and rests his head back against the brick wall behind him, eyes closed.

I know that old adage about telling somebody not to do, say or look at something invariably makes the forbidden far too enticing and the person ends up with a compulsion to do, say or look anyway. That’s my defence I decide as I stop fighting it and let my eyes drift down into the water. I don’t know whether to be disappointed or pleased that he was telling the truth. A pair of black boxer briefs are clearly visible through the swirling water. I let my eyes linger a fraction too long.

“Told you I was decent.”

Sugar.

I’ve been caught ogling him. I slowly lift my gaze to see Charlie, eyes now open, with a sexy grin on his face.

“I wasn’t… I mean…” I cough and try to look in control. “I just wanted to make sure. That was all.”

He nods. “Only natural.”

I close my eyes and sink lower in the water, enjoying the warmth starting to seep deep into my bones. I think I might finally have stopped shaking.

“Look, about what you went through tonight. It was entirely my fault. I should never have let you talk me into it. Again. Are you sure you won’t be mentally scarred for life after throwing yourself off a quarry ledge?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “It was bloody terrifying but I’m OK now. The closest I’ve ever come to doing something like that was on an outward bound adventure holiday with the school when I was about twelve. I had to do one of those zip wire things. I was terrified but didn’t want to admit it to my friends at the time. If this kind of stuff is a regular part of your job then you must be some kind of adrenaline junkie.”

He shrugs. “I can be. I admit I like having a job which has a certain degree of excitement to it. For me, it’s kind of necessary.”

I open my eyes. That’s a strange thing to say. “Throwing yourself off things and getting chased by a pack of dogs is necessary for you?”

“Kind of. It gives me a buzz. I need that.”

A flicker of concern shoots through my mind. He seeks danger. He thrives on it. I’ve read about people like him. People who need a regular high. They can get it from drugs, drink or from risking their lives.

Silence hangs in the misty air above the hot tub. Time for a change of subject.

“What was in the boxes, Charlie? Did you get into the cave? Did you see?”

He stares at me for a moment, clearly contemplating how to answer. “It’s best if you don’t know. You’re involved too much as it is.”

No way is he going to shut me out of this now. “You can’t do that. I’ve come this far. I have to know. You promised. If you don’t tell me I’ll find out myself by…”

He holds up a hand to stop my tirade and pretends to cower into the water as if trying to hide from my verbal assault. Then he smiles.
That
bloody smile. It will be the undoing of me, I feel sure of it.

“OK. OK.” He sighs. “I honestly don’t know how you do it. Persuade me to let you go to the quarry; get caught up in all this. Have you put some kind of spell on me?”

I laugh nervously. “Of course. That would be the curse of the local standing stones. Have you not heard? They’re said to have magical powers you know? I’ve discovered how to harness that power to get people to comply with my every wish, reveal all their deep, dark secrets to me.”

He mutters under his breath words which I don’t hear fully but I think it sounds suspiciously like something about him being delighted to comply with my every wish. I feel colour rising in my cheeks again.

No. Get back to business. Think of those boxes and what’s going on at the quarry and how Joel might have been involved.

“Charlie?” I prompt.

“Drugs,” he finally says with obvious contempt in his voice. “The boxes were full of drugs.”

“There were a lot of boxes so I’m thinking that’s a lot of drugs which are worth a lot of money.”

“Yep. A huge amount. Seems Ryan and Mitch are part of some drug-smuggling operation. Don’t know where they got the drugs from but the guys from the police are already on the case. I let them know when you were upstairs getting the towels. I didn’t get chance to phone them for back-up before when I went to see what was in the boxes. The heavy mob turned up and I had to get out of there and make sure you were OK. The police will check their contacts; see if they can piece the bits of the jigsaw together on that side of things.”

“Those guys are going to go ballistic when they find out that their hiding place has been discovered. They know someone was around, when they chased us, but do they know you found the drug cave at the quarry? Will there be some kind of raid?”

“Yes. We’ll continue surveillance on them and then hopefully the guys will be able to catch them red-handed and have all the evidence they need to charge them. I’d have thought they’d try to move the stuff very soon just in case.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head back again. “They deserve everything they get. The people who peddle drugs, feed people’s addictions, are the scum of the earth. They ruin people’s lives. Have numerous deaths on their hands because of what they do. All for money. For greed.”

“But we still don’t know what was going on with Ryan, Mitch and Joel. Do you think Joel knew they were smuggling this stuff and was trying to buy drugs from them or something?”

“From what I’ve heard about Joel, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to blackmail them too. He was known for doing drugs anyway. Maybe one of his regular Manchester contacts told him he could get stuff out here and put him in touch with Ryan.”

Pieces were falling into place. “So Joel was up at the quarry the night he died trying to find the secret drug stash then?” I say.

“Could well be. We still need to know what happened up there though. Forensics said he wasn’t high at the time. There were no drugs or alcohol in his system.”

“And what’s going on with those explosions we’ve been hearing and that earth tremor we felt that night we were watching the smuggling operation take place in the quarry?” I say, feeling the tension in my body finally start to ease as the hot bubbling water works its own brand of magic. “Do you think the guys are doing some blasting on the side to make more storage space in the quarry caves they’re creating to stash more drugs?” I look down, watching my hands swirl in the water. “By the way I’m sorry I went all girly on you and panicked up on that quarry ledge.”

He lifts his head and then allows his body to dip lower into the tub. I feel one of his feet touch mine and it sends a tingle of something exciting all the way through me.

“Girly? I didn’t take you for being sexist. Why does panicking have to be girly? If it is, then I’ve been girly more than a couple of times in my life too!”

“You have?” I’m surprised by his admission.

“Definitely.”

“I thought you were the brave CCIA guy. On a mission to right the wrongs of this world.”

His voice is low, subdued almost, when he replies. “Everyone is scared of something.”

“Even you?”

He nods but doesn’t speak.