Authors: Catherine Hunt
She asked him to drop her by the side of a narrow road across the top of the Downs from where, she judged, it was a short walk to the scene. He had given up arguing with her. He drove off, rolling his eyes in disapproval.
Laura looked around. There was no one in sight so she climbed over the fence, gritting her teeth at the pain from her ribs and her hip, and headed across the field towards the clifftop.
She found the place easily enough. There was no mistaking the dark patch of ground where Valentine’s blood had spilled. It made her a little queasy. She began searching the area, examining the ground methodically, moving slowly back from the dark patch down the track into the woods.
Nothing. There was nothing to show that the fall was anything but an accident caused by her own stupidity. She knew she had been reckless to ride on private land where any kind of danger could be waiting. There was always a chance that a piece of barbed wire like the one that had brought down Valentine, would be left lying around. It was her own fault and she would have to accept it.
The afternoon was dark, getting darker all the time, and it would not be long before it was too dark to see. Adrenaline had kept her going but it was wearing off fast and tiredness was setting in. She’d eaten nothing since breakfast and her legs were like jelly. She leaned back against a tree and slid dejectedly down to the earth. Poor old Valentine, was she being crazy to keep him alive?
It was then that she saw it, half invisible in the growing dark. A piece of black rubber hosing tied around the trunk of a tree near the end of the track about two feet from the ground. Protruding from its end was a length of barbed wire. Across the track, around a tree on the other side, was another piece of black rubber hosing encasing another piece of barbed wire, a longer length this time with its end hanging loose on the ground. Laura’s heart jolted in her chest and she shot to her feet, weariness forgotten.
Someone had strung the wire tight across the path. Someone had taken the trouble to put the ends in rubber hosing. Valentine had galloped full pelt straight into it and it had broken under his weight. Most had wrapped itself around his leg but the rest remained tied to the trees.
Fear pulsed through her. Who could have done such a thing and why had they done it? Her heart raced as she felt again that the fall had been no accident. Her intuition was back, telling her, loud and clear, that the barbed wire had been meant for her, had been meant to take her down.
She struggled to stay objective, took hold of her conclusion and tried to overturn it. What other reason could someone have for putting up that wire? Perhaps to stop motorbikes using the path, to deter poachers or other trespassers like herself. She could think up reasons but none of them satisfied her. It was a callous, thoughtless act and whoever had done it hadn’t cared about the consequences, hadn’t cared if they killed someone. Maybe they had wanted to kill someone. Maybe that someone was her.
She asked herself how it could possibly have been aimed at her. No-one knew she rode there – for obvious reasons she had never mentioned it at the stables. A creepy feeling came over her, one that made the little hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Could someone have been following her, watching her? She came this way every Saturday after all. She thought about the car chase, the troll on the website, Harry Pelham. He was in hospital but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have put up the wire a couple of days ago or got someone else to do it for him.
Her cold hands fumbled for her phone in her jacket pocket. She needed photos of the wires on the trees if she was going to prove anything.
In her jittery state, the angry voice behind her made her jump a mile high. She spun round to find a large, middle-aged man with a stick and an Alsatian, confronting her.
‘Oi, this is private land,’ he jabbed a finger at her. ‘Clear off.’
Laura showed her palms defensively, ‘I’m sorry, I’m not doing any harm, I’m just looking for something.’
He looked her over and what he saw seemed to make him more annoyed.
‘Are you the silly cow who’s caused all the fuss today?’
‘Yes, I guess I probably am, I’m really sorry.’
‘What are you doing back here again?’ He came a step closer, ‘Don’t you know you’ve got no right to be here?’
‘I do and I’m sorry but … ’
‘Donoghue told me what happened, told me it was one idiot rider who will be barred from the stables. I told him, and I’m telling you now, if you or anyone else ever comes here again, I’ll prosecute. Do you understand?’
‘I almost died this morning and my horse probably will die and I wanted to find out what made us fall,’ Laura was unable keep a tremor from her voice.
‘It’s your own stupid fault for riding where you shouldn’t. Now I’ve asked you to leave. I won’t ask politely again.’
‘There was barbed wire strung up between these trees,’ she persisted, pointing to one of the wire ends. ‘We galloped into it. Do you know how it got there?’
He looked at the wire then crossed the track and bent down to examine the other one.
‘Damn kids, I suppose,’ he muttered to the dog and she only just caught what he said.
‘Does that mean you don’t know anything about it?’
‘Of course I don’t,’ he said, inspecting the rubber casing.
Laura took out her mobile, ‘I just need to get some pictures.’
He moved quickly towards her and knocked the phone from her hand. ‘No photos. Get out, get out now,’ he raised his stick. The dog growled.
She grabbed the phone off the ground and backed off fast taking a couple of hurried shots as she went.
He watched her go then turned his attention to the wire. He had no idea how it had got there but he didn’t want to be blamed for it. He removed the wire ends from the tree trunks and pocketed them. He noticed the rubber meant no marks had been left on the trees. Now, if anyone else came snooping, there would be nothing for them to see.
Harry Pelham stood in front of the nurses’ desk demanding to know why the man, ‘that nutter’ as he called him, had been allowed to get into his room. Harry was big and chunky and his heavy black brows were drawn together in a scowl. The nurse was looking at him nervously. He thought she might call security so he stopped barking at her.
‘Typical police,’ he said, more quietly and winked at her. ‘Never around when you want them.’
The police guard had left late on Friday afternoon and Harry made no secret of how pleased he was to see the back of them. The consultant had told them Harry was being kept in for observation for a few more days. The doctors originally thought he’d had a mild heart attack, but test results had not confirmed this. Still, they wanted to keep an eye on him for a bit longer. The policemen reported back to Barnes, and a few hours later, Harry was granted bail. There had been conditions though and they’d made him furious. He was not to contact his wife and child, directly or indirectly; he was banned from going anywhere near them; he must live at a specified address and sleep there every night so the police knew where to find him; he was not to access any computers so there was no chance of him re-offending.
The conditions were vindictive, he thought, and they had Laura Maxwell’s fingerprints all over them. He protested loudly to Ronnie but Ronnie said impatiently there was nothing he could do about any of it, at least not until the computers had been examined. He told Harry the police would want to finish their questioning, probably on Monday if the doctors said he was fit enough. He warned Harry not to leave the hospital in the meantime.
The nurse didn’t like the wink and she didn’t smile. She didn’t say anything either in case it set him off again. The police wanted to question him about some unexplained offence, rumoured to be something horrible, he’d just finished yelling at the man who’d come to visit him and now, here he was, kicking off at her. He was dangerous and she wasn’t taking any chances.
‘OK,’ he said, ‘I know it’s not your fault. Just tell me about the guy.’
‘I don’t know anything about him.’
‘He talked to you when he arrived. What did he say?’
‘He just said he was a friend of yours and he wanted to know where he could find you.’
‘I’ve never seen him before in my life. Like I say, he’s some sort of nutter.’
She flushed. In fact, Ben Morgan had asked her if the police were still around and when she’d told him ‘no’, he’d marched straight off to Harry’s room. She remembered how he had come in the day before, and when she’d gone to tell one of the policemen that he wanted to give Harry a note, he had disappeared in record time.
‘I wasn’t to know that,’ she said, stiffly.
Harry Pelham put his elbows on the desk. He was right in her face, his moustache bristling at her.
‘Look are you sure that’s everything he said? Nothing else that might give me a clue?’
‘He said he was an old friend and he wanted to see you, and, um, he asked if the police were still here.’
She waited for an explosion but it didn’t come.
‘So he knew the police were here,’ Harry muttered, pretty much to himself, not considering that the nurse might have supplied the information, ‘and what did you say?’
‘I said they’d gone and before I could say anything else, he just shot off to talk to you.’
The elbows and the moustache withdrew and Harry Pelham went back to his room.
The visitor had upset him. Badly upset him. The little creep had been watching him, sticking his nose in where it wasn’t wanted, where it had no business to be. It was clear that Morgan knew a lot, far too much, about him. He needed to be taught a lesson and Harry had every intention of doing so.
The man had burst in the door, announced that his name was Ben Morgan and that he was a ‘friend’. He was very hyped up, like he was on something. When he sat down, his right leg jigged restlessly on the floor. His eyes kept shooting all over the place and he talked a mile a minute. He was speaking softly but there was something wild in there too. He grabbed Harry’s hand, told him he’d come to help, knew all about his troubles and felt drawn to him like a brother.
‘I know what’s going on, see. All of it. I’ve been watching, getting myself the full picture. Checking stuff out. You know what I mean. No worries though, I want to help.’
Harry’s eyes narrowed. He would have told him to piss off there and then but for the mention of his daughter’s name. It silenced him.
‘Martha loves you, I know, and you’re not going to lose her, no way, not like I did. That Maxwell scum isn’t going to get away with it, not anymore. She’s toast. I know what she’s up to, I can see it coming. She lives in my head, see. Tried to shut her up but it didn’t work. On and on I hear her talking, saying I’m crazy, not fit to be a father. Haven’t slept for three days, my brain won’t turn off. Reason is it’s full of her voice. I’ve got to fucking shut her up. Got to. No problem.’
Ben Morgan continued without a pause. He was speaking so fast that Harry found it hard to follow. There were long rambling references to his own daughter, Millie, tirades against secret and unaccountable family courts, against judges and psychiatrists, but most of all against Laura Maxwell. He was going to stop her before she did any more damage. He was on her case. She was not indestructible and if she thought she was, he would teach her different.
Ben Morgan jabbed a skinny finger in the air. ‘She worked for my wife for free. A lawyer – for free. That’s a joke, eh? So ask yourself, why?’
He left no room for an answer but supplied his own. ‘Because she was out to get me. She singled me out early on, oh yes. She knew I’d seen through her and had worked out what kind of a spiteful, man-hating bitch she is and that meant she had to destroy me. Now I want payback. Would feel so good, wouldn’t it? Bringing the bitch down.’
Harry wanted to laugh, the man was talking like a third-rate gangster, but what he said next wiped any idea of laughter from Harry’s mind.
Ben Morgan had been watching Harry carefully and had seen he needed help to deal with Laura Maxwell. Harry was a man suffering the same agonies Morgan had been through, a man trapped in the same nightmare situation. Harry was bipolar, he knew, was on medication, was unfairly accused of all sorts of things, was in trouble with the police. Morgan understood all that only too well and he understood that none of it was Harry’s fault.
‘Where the hell did you get hold of all this crap?’ Harry snarled.
‘She wants to be with you, you know,’ Morgan said. ‘Martha, she’s heartbroken, she cries herself to sleep, she says you’re her best friend.’
Harry Pelham stared at the man, feeling his chest grow tight. Rage filled him so intense that it clogged his throat. He reached out, grabbed Morgan’s forearm, began to bend it sharply backwards.
‘Who the hell are you?’ he shouted.
At last there was silence for a moment, then Ben Morgan said, ‘Take it easy, will you.’
‘I am taking it easy. Believe me.’
‘Please, you’re really hurting.’
‘I asked you a question. I want an answer.’
‘I told you. I’m a friend.’
Harry increased the pressure. The man gasped, stifled a cry. His eyes had stopped darting around. Harry had their full attention. They were wide. They watched a vein pulsing in Harry’s forehead.
‘You want me to break your fucking arm?’ Harry asked.
‘Look, I can help you. I know what to do about that lawyer,’ he paused, ‘Martha talks to you through her favourite teddy bear, you know, she misses you so much.’
Almost unconsciously, his mind taken up by this new piece of outrageous information, he twisted the arm back further. There was a yell of pain.
‘Shut up! Just shut up about my daughter. You understand?’
Harry let go of the arm before the man could yell anymore and bring people running. Ben Morgan clutched it, rubbed at it frantically.
They were sitting next to each other at the side of Harry’s bed and now Harry moved his chair round in front of the other man’s, to block his exit.
‘Right, you little shit, you’re going to answer some questions.’