Deadfall (2 page)

‘Bastards!' Abby's father said with sudden explosive fury. ‘She's only a kid! Why couldn't they leave her alone?'

Linc shook his head and, without waiting for an answer, David Hathaway turned to follow his wife, only to be brought up short by the arrival of a police car, adding its blue light to that of the ambulance. Two officers – one uniformed, one not – spilled out on to the gravel at the same time as the paramedics emerged from the tackroom with Abby on a stretcher. They intercepted the procession, questioned the ambulancemen briefly and then the uniformed one headed back to the car.

Rebecca, following her daughter's stretcher across to the waiting vehicle, turned to look at her husband. ‘David, are you coming? Ruth's going to stay with the children.'

He hesitated, looking at the approaching plain-clothes officer. ‘Linc, could you . . .?'

‘Sure. You go.'

There was a general re-shuffling as the police car backed to let the ambulance and the Mercedes out before joining the convoy to the hospital. As the blue lights flashed their way out of sight the sense of urgency was suddenly extinguished, leaving a flat depression in its stead.

A middle-aged, grey-haired man in a tired grey suit came over to where Linc waited by Noddy's box. He'd switched all the stable lights on while he was waiting, partly to check on the inhabitants and partly to relieve the gloom of the yard. Ruth had disappeared, presumably to resume her babysitting duties.

The grey man held out a hand, shaking his head sadly. ‘It's a bad business, this. Very bad. Young lass like that, at home . . . Detective Inspector Rockley, CID. And you are . . .?'

‘Lincoln Tremayne – Linc. I stable my horse here.' Linc shook the hand.

‘Isn't there an outside light in this yard?'

‘It's been smashed.'

‘
Tremayne
, you say. As in the Tremaynes of Farthingscourt?'

‘Viscount Tremayne is my father.'

‘Yes, I know your father quite well. So you're the missing heir?'

A muscle tightened in Linc's jaw. ‘Hardly missing. I've been working away, that's all. Is this part of your investigation?'

‘Mind my own business, eh?' Rockley said unabashed. ‘Fair enough.' He regarded Linc from under bushy brows. ‘Take after the old man, I see. Could do worse.'

Linc returned his gaze, silently.

‘Okay. Now tell me what happened here. David Hathaway I know. The injured girl is one of his daughters, I take it?'

Once again Linc related what little he knew; from his narrow escape in the lane, to finding Abby unconscious in the tackroom.

‘And is it your normal practice to call here at this time of night?'

‘No, but I'm due to ride at Andover tomorrow in a one-day event and I'd come over to plait up my horse. I intended to get here about nine but I was running late. Estate business. Why? Am I a suspect?'

For a moment Linc thought Rockley wasn't going to answer him; he was gazing at the open doorway of the tackroom, seemingly absorbed in thought.

‘Until I have the complete picture, I can't see which pieces don't fit,' he said after a moment. ‘It's important to ask. One should never assume. It would seem to be a bit of a security risk, having the stables so far from the house.'

‘Yes – well, the gate would normally be bolted at this time of night but David and Rebecca were out this evening so I knew I'd be able to get in.'

‘Are there no stables at Farthingscourt?'

‘If you know my father as well as you seem to think, you'll know why I don't keep my horse there,' Linc said.

‘Hmm. So the older girl . . . Ruth, isn't it? . . . she was unaware that her sister had come down here?'

‘Yes, until I called her on my mobile. She said she was in the studio. Pottery,' he added, seeing the question forming on Rockley's lips. ‘She's got a workshop next to the house.'

‘I'll have to have a word with her later. I must ask you not to touch anything here until forensics have had a chance to go over it. The CSI team are on their way now.'

‘Okay. Well, if you've done with me for now, I'll just go up to the house and see if Ruth's okay. She's had a nasty shock.' He began to move away, then paused. ‘By the way, that's my car over there, if you need to inspect the damage.'

Rockley nodded. ‘We'll do that. And tell Miss Hathaway I'll be along to see her in due course.'

Linc trudged up the slight incline of the Vicarage drive reflecting on the fragile balance of life. By the light of the lantern halfway to the house, his watch read ten to midnight. Less than an hour ago his most immediate concerns were a petty disagreement he'd had with a colleague, and what bit he should use on Noddy in the dressage the next day. Now a young girl was on her way to hospital, possibly gravely injured, and he had neither bridle nor saddle left to worry about. It kicked things sharply into perspective.

Ruth opened the back door to his knock and invited him into the kitchen, the hub of Vicarage life. The family's two springer spaniels, Dorcas and Sukey, looked up from their beds in the corner and sleepily wagged their tails, comfortably unaware of the night's events.

‘I'm just making coffee, would you like some?' Ruth looked pale and worn out.

‘That'd be great. Er, the Inspector said to tell you he'll want a word later,' Linc warned her, sitting down at the table.

‘
Me?
What about?
I
didn't see anything.'

‘So he can get the complete picture.'

‘Come again?' Ruth spooned coffee, frowning.

‘He's very thorough. He'll probably want to know your life history,' Linc told her wearily. ‘I suppose he's just doing his job.'

‘He'll probably think it's my fault for not keeping a better eye on Abby,' she said, passing him a mug. ‘I don't know how you can drink that without sugar, it makes me shudder.'

‘Ruth, she's fifteen. You can't control her every move.'

‘But it wouldn't have happened if Mum and Dad had been here. I was in the studio all evening. I didn't have a clue where she was.'

‘You might as well say it's my fault for being late,' Linc pointed out. ‘As far as I can see, the only person to blame is whoever did this to her.'

‘I still can't believe it's happened,' Ruth said, shaking her head. ‘I just can't take it in. Why? Why us?'

The hall door opened a few inches and a rather plain face with a mop of short brown curls peered round it.

Hannah, at thirteen, was the youngest of the three Hathaway sisters still living at home, and as the only one of them not interested in horses, was the one Linc knew the least. Toby, the baby of the tribe, was presumably still sound asleep. The eldest sister, Josie, whom he'd never met, was a model and worked away from home for the most part.

‘Is Abby going to be all right?' Hannah padded in on bare feet, a grey fleece dressing gown wrapped loosely over striped pyjamas. Lace and frills she regarded with tomboyish scorn.

‘I expect so,' Ruth said, almost visibly pulling herself together. ‘We'll know more in the morning. The kettle's just boiled, d'you want a drink? She heard me phoning Dad about Abby,' she added to Linc.

‘I told Abby not to go down there. She'd been watching the yard for ages, waiting for you to come,' Hannah told Linc, sliding into a seat opposite him.

‘But you can't see the yard from here,' Ruth protested.

‘You can from Mummy's room, if you stand on the windowsill. You can just see the light come on.'

‘And she was standing there all that time? Why on earth didn't you tell me?' Ruth handed her sister a mug of hot chocolate with the spoon still in.

‘None of my business if she wants to make a fool of herself,' Hannah observed with a touch of smugness. ‘Besides, she'd kill me if I ratted on her.'

That was the crux of the matter, Linc thought, sipping his coffee. Caught somewhere between a child and a woman, Abby's erupting hormones had not improved an already volatile temper and Hannah, with her sometimes debatable tact, came in for more than her fair share of her sister's flare-ups.

A tentative knock sounded at the back door and the dogs, apparently sensing a stranger, sat up and growled.

‘It's all right, girls.' Ruth went to answer it and reappeared with Rockley close behind.

‘Coffee, Inspector?' she asked over her shoulder.

‘Thank you. White, two sugars.' Rockley's keen grey eyes scanned the room and he nodded at Linc
before turning his attention to Hannah. ‘And who's this young lady?'

‘My sister Hannah. She was with Abby this evening before . . .'

‘Only until half-past ten. Then I went to bed,' Hannah put in. ‘There's no school tomorrow, so I'm allowed.'

‘So you can't tell me what time she actually went down to the yard?' Rockley said, settling himself at the table. The dogs sniffed him suspiciously, accepted his friendly advances, then went back to their beds and curled up, sighing deeply.

‘I heard her go downstairs just before eleven,' Hannah said, thinking hard. ‘I thought perhaps Mum and Dad had come home.'

‘Are you sure that was the time?'

‘Yes, because the grandfather clock in the hall had just struck and it's five minutes fast,' she said with characteristic accuracy.

‘And did she say she was going to go down to the stables?'

‘Yes. She wanted to see Linc. She thinks she's in love with him,' Hannah told the inspector, in a voice loaded with scorn.

‘And you don't think she is?' he queried, taking the mug that Ruth held out.

‘'Course not! It's only a crush. Mum says she's just at that age.'

Rockley's lips twitched but Ruth wasn't amused.

‘Ooh, you little horror! You've been listening at doors,' she exclaimed. ‘Mum was talking to me when she said that.'

‘I was behind the curtain, reading,' Hannah countered. ‘It's not my fault!'

‘Well, thank you, young lady. You've been very helpful,' the inspector said. ‘But I'd like a little word with your sister now, if I may.'

‘It's time you got back to bed anyway,' Ruth told her.

As the door closed behind Hannah, Rockley sighed. ‘Nice kid. What is she – twelve? Thirteen?'

‘Thirteen,' Ruth confirmed. ‘Going on thirty. She's a monster at times!'

‘No, she's a nice, ordinary kid. It makes a refreshing change after some of the kids I come across in my line of work. You should be thankful, believe me.' Rockley shook his head, and then switched abruptly back to the business at hand, looking thoughtfully from Linc to Ruth. ‘I hear you're a potter, Miss Hathaway. I'd be interested to see your studio.'

‘Now?' She was surprised. ‘Okay. It's through here.'

The two went out, Rockley asking questions in his deceptively soft voice and Ruth answering without hesitation.

Left alone in the kitchen, Linc sipped his coffee. He had to admire the policeman's skill in getting the girls to relax and open up. He'd probably learned as much about the family in those few minutes as Linc himself had in the five months he'd known them. And now, unless he was very much mistaken, Rockley was trying to learn a little more about Linc Tremayne.

The night ticked slowly on, rhythmically counted by the old grandfather clock in the hall. Ruth came back after ten minutes or so, carrying two empty
mugs and saying that the inspector had gone back down to the yard.

‘He was nice, wasn't he?' she said. ‘Not like a policeman at all. I couldn't tell him much but it was odd, he seemed more interested in you than anything.'

Linc hid a smile.

‘He wanted to know what your relationship with Abby was. I said you didn't have one. Honestly, does the man know nothing about teenagers?'

On the huge Welsh dresser the telephone trilled and Ruth went to answer it, picking up the receiver with a hand that shook visibly.

‘Mum! How is she?'

Linc could just hear Rebecca's voice on the other end but could make out no words. He watched Ruth's face, trying to read her expression; dreading seeing the shock of bad news.

‘When will they know?' she asked, and the indistinct tones answered.

‘Yes . . . Yes, I'm okay. Linc's still here . . . Yes, I will . . . 'Bye, Mum.' She replaced the handset and turned back to the table.

‘How is she?' Linc asked, softly.

‘Still unconscious but stable, apparently. Whatever that means,' Ruth replied, her voice trembling on the brink of tears.

‘I should think it means she's out of immediate danger.'

‘I hope so.' She sniffed, fumbling in her pocket for a handkerchief. ‘They're going to do more tests in the morning. Mum says try not to worry. Yeah, right . . .'

They made more drinks, after which Ruth was
nodding over the kitchen table in spite of the double dose of caffeine, and Linc suggested she go to bed.

‘I'll be here if Rockley wants anything,' he said. ‘You ought to get some sleep or you'll be a zombie tomorrow.'

‘But what about you? What'll you do about riding at Andover tomorrow?'

Linc shrugged. ‘Not much I
can
do with no tack.'

‘But weren't you supposed to be riding Nina Barclay's horse as well?'

‘Oh, hell! Yeah, I'd forgotten about that. Look, I don't s'pose they'll be much longer down there. When they go, I'll doss down on the sofa, if that's all right?'

The Vicarage kitchen was home not only to the usual range of cupboards and appliances, but also, in addition to the table and chairs, one of the biggest settees Linc had ever seen. He heartily approved of it as an item of kitchen furniture.

‘Of course. I'll get you a blanket. But are you sure? Haven't you got to get home?'