For the Sake of the Children: The first Chloe Webster thriller (Chloe Webster Thrillers Book 1) (21 page)

‘Right. Okay. Good work son. At least someone knows what the fuck they’re doing round here… Yeah, I’ll catch you later.’

Drabble placed the receiver calmly on the base of the phone unit on his desk. He looked over at the man bound tightly to a chair in the corner of the room, then he looked up at Jez.

‘I know where they are. I’ve got the address – here, take it and go and fetch them. Bring them back here, and do it quickly.’

A muffled sound came from the prisoner, his mouth covered by thick tape.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Drabble shouted.

Jez took the scrap of paper, looked at it quickly, unable to prevent a smirk appearing on his face, and slipped it into his pocket.

‘You’d think she could find a less obvious place to go.’ He grinned at Mickey, who played along with the comradery and laughed quietly.

‘Jez, listen to me carefully.’ Drabble had a look on his face that Jez didn’t like. His heart instantly skipped a beat and he shuffled uneasily on his feet. ‘You fucked up at the local authority. I don’t know what happened but Lightbody told me something spooked her and that caused her to run. He reckons she must have seen you. I told you to be careful and stay out of the fucking way.’

‘But I was…’

‘Jez, shut up and just listen. Go to her house and get her and the child. Bring them both here, do you understand? I want them alive. We need the child for the Kirklands, but I also need to speak to the girl to make sure she hasn’t done anything stupid, like call the police. I assume she hasn’t otherwise they’d have been kicking the door in by now.’

‘Yes boss.’

‘What’ll we do with the girl after that?’ Mickey surprised himself with the question. He usually stayed out of these discussions. Drabble kept his stare focused on Jez as he spoke.

‘We get rid of her. Then we break all connections with that fucking law firm. I’m sick of the place; it gives me nothing but trouble. We’ll have to find a new firm to use. Now, is everything clear?’

More muffled attempts to speak came from the corner of the room as the prisoner urgently tried to say something. This time Drabble ignored him.

Jez and Mickey both nodded. As they walked out into the bar, Jez turned to Mickey.

‘Go and get the car, we’ve got some baggage to collect.’

Mickey saw a look in Jez’s eyes that he recognised. It was the same look that he had after he’d beaten the Timer almost to death a few days ago, and it worried him.

‘All right Jez. Are you okay mate?’

‘I’ve had enough of things going wrong and getting blamed for it all. This time it will go as planned. That bitch and the brat won’t know what’s hit them.’

‘The boss wants them alive remember, Jez.’

‘He said alive, not unharmed. Oh, and Mickey, who the hell was that tied up in Drabble’s office?’

‘The girl’s father I think.’

Jez smiled. ‘Sweet. That’ll make things even easier; gives me something to bargain with. I’m looking forward to this.’

Mickey found himself scared. Scared for the girl and the young boy he’d never met. And, if he was honest, scared for himself. It was as if a switch had been flicked inside Jez. He was a man on a mission and he was concerned about what Jez had said about harming the girl.

He hurried out to collect the car, conflicting thoughts battling in his mind.

Chloe sat at the kitchen table watching George eat his breakfast. She’d come to a decision about what to do. The fact that her father hadn’t returned was the final straw; she couldn’t do this alone. She’d wanted his advice, needed it, and would have followed it without question. His empty chair only brought matters into clearer contention; she was going to the police. Staying here with George just wasn’t an option. Someone would come looking for him eventually. The fact that the police hadn’t arrived at her door yet meant that no one had reported the fact that she’d run off with him. The local authority could easily have found her address and sent someone round to look for them. That they hadn’t done so told her everything she needed to know. It confirmed all her worst fears. The people involved did not want the police interfering in all of this. And there could only be one reason for that.

She heard the faint growl of a car engine which sounded as if it had pulled up outside the house. She immediately stood up and peered down the hallway to the front door and through the rippled glass she could see the unmistakeable outline of a dark car. Then she saw movement. At least two figures were walking up the path towards the door. Salesmen perhaps? She doubted it.

‘George, we need to go out.’ Chloe rushed over and pulled him out of his chair, hoisting up him into her arms. He clung to her and his weight surprised her. She wasn’t used to lifting young children and struggled to take some of his weight on her hip to ease the burden.

A loud bang resonated down the hallway as someone thumped on the front door of the cottage.

Without time to think, Chloe instinctively moved to the door at the back of the kitchen which led out to the garden and twisted the key in the lock. She pulled it open and stepped through, still holding George. Apparently aware that something was wrong, he held on to her even tighter than before, and if anything it seemed to make him lighter somehow.

As she pulled the door closed she heard glass breaking in the hallway; they were smashing their way in. Locking the door from the outside, she hurried across the patio behind the cottage and located a small gap in the high wooden fence which led through to the neighbouring garden. She set George on the ground.

‘George, we need to crawl through that gap. Can you do that? I used to do it when I was a child. A really nice lady lives next door and she will help us.’

George was unfazed by her request. Clearly a child that had done a lot of outside adventuring in his time, he fell to his hands and knees and disappeared through the hole.

Chloe prepared herself to follow him, urged on by the clamour coming from the kitchen door behind her. She started to wonder if they would ever give up the chase. An image of Mrs Granger flashed briefly before her, the woman she’d known since Chloe moved here as a small child. This gap in the fence had always been a gateway into a different world; a world of childhood adventures, of fun and laughter and good times. It was a world into which she had escaped on the many occasions that the horrors of her mother’s illness deprived her own house of such things. She didn’t want to drag Mrs Granger into the new darkness that was enveloping her life, but what other choice did she have? George was the most important person in all this, and she knew her kindly neighbour would agree.

Surprised that she could still fit through the opening so easily, she winced as the cold moisture seeped into the knees of her jeans. She found George standing waiting for her on the other side, put her hand on his back and marshalled him up to the house. It was built of the same stone as her own cottage, but was considerably larger and rather less well kept. Mr Granger had died some years ago, and his wife had struggled to maintain it in her later years, despite her best efforts.

Relief swept over Chloe as she caught sight of Mrs Granger standing at the sink in her kitchen.

‘Mrs Granger, please open the door,’ she shouted, banging on the glass as if to emphasise the urgency of her request. She heard a crash from what she assumed was her own back door and then the sound of male voices from behind the fence. She looked back at the hole and saw a face appear. It was Peters.

‘Miss Webster, wait, we just want to talk to you about George. What are you running for? There’s no need to be scared of us.’ He sounded quite reasonable, but she had now convinced herself that no good could come of this. She almost fell into Mrs Granger’s kitchen as the door was pulled open from the inside. She bundled George into the house and followed after him, urging her elderly neighbour to lock the door behind them.

Jez stood up and turned to Mickey. ‘Shit, she’s gone into the house next door. This is gonna get very messy. And I’m not fucking crawling through that hole, not in this gear. We’ll have to go round.’

The old lady untied the apron from her waist and placed it on a hook inside a cupboard. Everything in the kitchen clearly had a place and, like Mrs Granger herself, was neat, tidy and very welcoming.

‘What on earth is the matter, dear? And who’s this cute little chap you’ve brought to see me? Hello, would you like…?’

‘Mrs Granger, I’m really sorry to barge in like this. There isn’t time for me to explain everything to you now, but we need to call the police. Something bad is happening and I need help. Can you call them now please, quickly?’ Trying to sound as calm as possible so as not to upset her neighbour, Chloe actually felt like screaming the words.

The smile dropped from Mrs Granger’s face as she realised something was seriously wrong. She took hold of Chloe’s hand and looked at her earnestly.

‘What is it, dear? What’s wrong?’

‘Mrs Granger please, I wouldn’t have come here unless I had to. I didn’t want to bring them here, but they
will
be here in a minute.
Please
call the police now.’

‘All right dear, yes, I’ll do it now. Let me see, I have the number somewhere…’

‘Just call nine nine nine, Mrs Granger.’ Chloe was getting desperate, and wished she’d had time to collect her own phone before they ran. She knew the men would be here any moment. It might already be too late.

The telephone was in the hallway and Mrs Granger took up the receiver and dialled the emergency number.

‘Yes, police please,’ she said, and Chloe breathed a small sigh of relief that progress was finally being made to summon help. She leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen watching as the neighbour she’d sought refuge with so many times before, but for very different reasons, waited for a response.

‘Ah yes, hello. My name? Yes, it’s Mrs Rosemary Granger. Erm, yes of course, it’s Mill Cottage…’

There was no real noise as such, and certainly not the kind of deafening blast that would usually be associated with a gunshot. It was more of a muffled thud, with a tinkle of broken glass accompanying it as the bullet came through the window of the front door. Mrs Granger dropped the telephone and stood there for what seemed like far too long. The blood that had splattered up the wall behind her went unnoticed to Chloe, who was mesmerised by the small round hole just above the old lady’s left eye.

As Mrs Granger eventually crumpled to the floor without a sound, Chloe’s first thought was for George and she was grateful that he was sat at the kitchen table, unaware of what had just happened. She wanted to scream of course, to go and see if she could do anything for Mrs Granger, but she knew that would only result in her and George being taken, or worse. But if she had any remaining doubts about whether she had misunderstood the events of the last week or so, she was now under no illusion. It was serious. Deadly serious.

‘George, we need to go again.’ Chloe could already hear the men trying to force the front door open. She took George into her arms, unlocked the back door and, locking it behind her, ran out into the garden.

Mrs Granger’s garden was a good size, laid mainly to grass with large evergreen trees and thick shrubs set out in a traditional style around the edges. She ran with George straight down the lawn into the trees at the bottom. Behind them, a low wooden fence marked the boundary of the garden, beyond which stretched open fields of farmland.

Another crash rang out as the back door of the house splintered and started to give way. Chloe lifted George over the fence, then climbed over herself. She looked across the field, the same familiar view she had from her own bedroom window. She knew there was a farmhouse at the bottom of this field and it was the only place she could think of running. She prayed that George was up to it.

They might even have a shotgun there. Jesus, what am I thinking?

They ran out into the field, hand in hand.

Jez looked out the kitchen window as Mickey worked on the door. He’d seen the girl run into the trees and had to admire her resolve; she certainly wasn’t going to give up easily. But he knew they had her now. He could see the countryside sprawling into the distance, and unless she came across a friendly farmer or a hiker or something, she was done for. The child wouldn’t be able to run for long, and if she was still carrying him she wouldn’t be moving quickly.

‘For fuck’s sake Mickey, hurry up will you?’ He was confident of catching up with them, but still unable to relax completely until they had the child. The thought of facing Drabble again empty-handed was all the encouragement he needed to maintain the chase.

‘Yeah, yeah, it’s coming. A couple more…
kicks
.’

The task was made more difficult because the door opened inwards, and he was therefore fighting against the frame. Fortunately, the wood was showing signs of rot, and after a few more whacks it gave way as the door crunched outwards, enough for them to squeeze through.

‘Nice one Mickey, now let’s get after them. Come on.’

They ran down the garden and into the trees. Mickey started to hunt through the bushes to make sure they weren’t hiding as Jez pushed through to the space behind and came up against the low boundary fence.

‘Mickey, come here mate. They’re not hiding, they’re running. Come and have a look at this. Where the fuck does she think she’s going?’

Mickey pushed through the trees next to him and together they stood watching for a moment. It was like a scene out of some twee coming-of-age movie. The two of them were running downhill through the field beneath the low February sun, leaving two trails behind them in the green, bushy crops.

‘Shit, there’s a farmhouse down there, look Mickey. She’s
still
trying to get help. At this rate we’ll have to kill half the population of the sodding Peak District. Come on, let’s go.’

They clambered over the fence and set off down the slope. Jez was unhappy that the damp crops were splashing water up his designer trousers, but he pushed on and soon he’d opened a sizeable lead over his companion, who was breathing heavily somewhere behind him. He could see Chloe and George ahead as they reached the bottom of the field and started to climb over the fence which separated it from the farmhouse.

‘Fuck. Run Mickey, they’re almost at the house,’ he shouted over his shoulder.

The sprint was taking all of Mickey’s concentration. His bulky frame together with the downward slope meant that his legs were taking a huge amount of strain. The uneven ground added to his fear of falling flat on his face. He heard Jez shout something to him but didn’t catch what it was, and he was too focused on keeping his balance to reply.

Jez approached the boundary fence first. He judged that it was just too high to hurdle, so he slowed down and climbed the three bar railings, jumping down onto the muddy farmyard area beyond. A few hens flapped out of the way as he did so. Chloe and George were nowhere to be seen but he could hear banging and shouting from the other side of the house and headed off towards it. A backward glance confirmed that Mickey wasn’t too far behind him. Mud splattered up his expensive trousers as he trudged across the farmyard. He sighed deeply with irritation.

‘She’s really beginning to annoy me now,’ he muttered to himself as he reached the end of the house wall. He pulled his gun and rounded the corner.