No Going Back (5 page)

‘Well, he's only young, and besides, one whiff of a bacon butty and he'd work for anyone,' he joked, electing to continue the bluff.

His interview for the job with TFS had been a casual affair. At the time, it had seemed that as long as Daniel had a current HGV licence, Bowden was happy and not too bothered about his employment history. Now Daniel was uneasy. If he probed, Bowden would find that while Daniel had told no lies, he had been economical – if not to say miserly – with the truth.

Bowden shook his head. ‘No, I've seen the way he looks at me. He's happy to leave me alone as long as I behave myself, but if I put a foot wrong . . .'

‘It's nothing personal.'

‘Oh, I know that.' Bowden tossed a TFS business card across the desk to Daniel. ‘There you are. Figgy's number. Use my phone. What'll you do if Reynolds
was
lying?'

Daniel shrugged. ‘I don't know, really. If I can't track him down, there's not much I can do. Let's hope he wasn't.'

‘Then you'll be happy?'

‘Well, maybe happy is pitching it a bit strong, but
happier
, definitely.'

Figgis answered his phone promptly and seemed incurious as to why Daniel wanted the information.

‘Last night? Nah. Quiet night, last night. Been a quiet few days. No call-outs, just training.'

‘What about over Bovey way?'

‘Not that I know of. I'll likely see Brian in the pub later. He'd know, but I haven't heard anything, and usually I do. All right, mate?'

‘Yeah. Thanks for that.' Daniel replaced the receiver and sighed.

‘Reynolds was lying,' Bowden said, watching his face.

‘Yes, he was. Damn him.'

‘So he
has
got something to hide.'

‘Looks that way, doesn't it?'

‘So what now?'

‘Well, right now I'm going to take Taz for a walk. As for Reynolds – or whatever his name really is – I'll have to give it some thought.' He finished his coffee, put the mug back on the desk and got up to go. Taz stood instantly, waving his bushy tail in anticipation. Walk was one word he thoroughly approved of.

‘You should come to supper one night,' Bowden suggested. ‘Meet my wife. She's gagging to see Taz. She loves dogs.'

‘Thank you.' Daniel responded automatically but without any intention of taking Bowden up on the offer. It was a shame. He liked the man, but in his experience social occasions nearly always led to awkward questions sooner or later. It was only natural.

Over the next few days, with nothing he could usefully do about it, Daniel tried to relegate the Reynolds affair to the back of his mind. Further attempts to track down The Pines had proven unsuccessful and led him to conclude that there was no such place.

He had toyed with the idea of contacting one of his ex-colleagues to see if anything could be gleaned from Reynolds's mobile number, but he shied away from actually doing it, unsure of his welcome. His departure from the force had been attended by much unpleasantness, and he had no doubt that in the intervening months his reputation would have been further blackened by those he had crossed.

If those last days and weeks had taught him anything, it was that when push comes to shove, most people ultimately look after number one. Even, it seemed, those who professed to be friends.

He might still have chanced it if he'd been a bit more certain as to what he could do with any information he might obtain. Even if he had an address for Reynolds, he could hardly ring the doorbell and demand to see the girls: he had no authority or grounds to do so.

Reluctantly he let the idea go and life settled back into its unexciting routine, until the Friday a week after the search, when Daniel was making an early delivery to Quarry Farm Racing Stables, southeast of Tavistock, a regular drop on his round.

It was a smallish yard, nestling in a steep-sided valley, where owner Tamzin Ellis trained around a dozen point-to-point and National Hunt horses. The stables were old but serviceable, and beyond them, a number of paddocks sloped up on either side of a small stream.

As he parked the lorry close to the feed store, Tamzin herself appeared.

‘So, where were you last week?'

Large, expressive grey eyes, long fair hair caught up in a loose knot and a pencil-slim figure made her a sight to gladden the heart of any red-blooded male, and Daniel was no exception.

He made a rueful face. ‘Figgy did this area instead. Luck of the draw.'

‘I missed you,' Tamzin said. ‘Figgy's OK, but he doesn't do this . . .' She leaned forward to give him a lingering kiss in the privacy of the open cab door.

‘Oh, I don't know . . .' Daniel responded straight-faced. ‘I'm sure he would have done. Did you ask him?'

Tamzin dug him in the ribs with a stiff forefinger. ‘Cheeky bugger! You'd better get on with your work or I'll report you to Fred!'

She moved away, laughing, and after an appreciative look at her departing rear, Daniel went round to the back of the lorry. The attraction between them had been instantaneous, and although he'd fought it at first, he had eventually given in to loneliness and her blatant encouragement and asked her out.

To begin with, it had all been very casual and Tamzin seemed to accept his reluctance to talk about himself, but of late she'd started to tease him about his ‘secrets'. Because of this, the relationship had begun to be a stress Daniel could well do without and he'd almost subconsciously started to back away from it.

He sighed, wondering if he would ever feel able to trust anyone with the mess of his past.

With the tailgate lowered, he began the laborious job of unloading. In the past, he had used the gym when he felt in need of a workout, but he had no such need these days. Some of the bigger farms had their own forklift trucks, but the smaller clients outnumbered those by far, and shifting heavy bags and bales of fodder and bedding all day long was keeping Daniel leaner and fitter than he'd been for a long time.

As he worked, he watched the lads and lasses leading their charges out preparatory to mounting, the thoroughbreds' thin skins protected from the cold wind by striped blankets over their loins. Daniel loved the horses. He'd grown up in the countryside, and he and his brothers and sisters had cadged rides on friends' ponies from an early age. Since moving to Bristol and joining the police at the age of eighteen, he'd barely given riding a thought, until his transfer to the Dog Unit had brought him into contact with the mounted division at HQ and he had once more felt the pull of equine contact.

Minutes later, the Quarry Farm string was mounted and filing out of the yard on to the road that led to the gallops, their many hooves beating a tattoo on the concrete and tarmac.

Tamzin stood by the gate, scrutinizing her charges as they went past, occasionally speaking to one of the riders.

‘Watch Shiner when you go past Tyler's Farm, Maggie. He'll throw a hissy fit if that bloody dog runs out – I don't want him slipping and coming down on the road. Steve, take Romany quietly today – I don't want a repeat of yesterday's fiasco!'

Daniel glanced up, wondering what form ‘yesterday's fiasco' had taken, and saw a rather sullen youngster slouched in the saddle of a lean grey horse. He knew the turnover of staff in the yard was very high – in common with many racing stables – and guessed that the unhappy Steve would soon join the ranks of ex-employees: he didn't look the persevering sort. Turning back to his work, Daniel's eye was caught by the rider of a chestnut mare, immediately behind the grey.

With cropped dark hair and a boyishly slim figure, Daniel's first impression was that it
was
a boy, but the size of the eyes and the fine bones of the face suggested a girl. It was something about that heart-shaped face that had arrested his gaze. Why did she look familiar?

He left the lorry and walked across to join Tamzin.

‘Who's the girl on the chestnut?' Daniel asked quietly.

‘Which chestnut?'

There were three chestnuts in the string of eight horses.

‘The one that's just gone out.'

‘That's Kat. She's new.'

‘How new?' Kat – Katya. Could it be?

Tamzin turned towards him as the last horse filed away up the lane.

‘Very. Just a couple of days. Why?'

‘Do you know where she comes from? What's her surname?'

‘I have to say I can't remember. She just wandered in while we were doing evening stables and asked if there were any jobs.'

‘And you don't even know her surname? That's a bit casual, isn't it?'

‘Yeah, I know. She may have said – I'm not sure. I was just so bloody glad to see her. We lost two last week – went home for the weekend and didn't come back – so we were a bit short-staffed. I can't tell you more than that because I haven't done any paperwork yet. To be honest, I don't bother until I'm sure they're going to stay more than a week or two. Otherwise I spend all my time filling out forms and then they bugger off! She's a very competent little rider, though. The horses go well for her.'

‘And Kat is short for?'

‘How would
I
know? Kathryn, Kathleen, Katrina . . . ? She didn't say. Your guess is as good as mine. Why the interest?'

‘It's a long story.' Daniel was still watching the last of the horses' rumps disappearing up the lane, his mind racing. ‘Does she live in?' Several of the stable hands that weren't local lived in a couple of purpose-built log cabins adjacent to the yard.

‘Yes, she does. Look, I've got to go now, if I'm going to get to the gallops before they do, but why don't you come over tomorrow night – say sevenish. I'll rustle up a stir-fry and we can crack open a bottle of wine and you can tell me this long story of yours. Unless, of course, it's another of your secrets?'

‘No. That sounds good. And maybe I could have a word with Kat too.'

Tamzin shrugged. ‘I don't see why not. Now I
must
go.' She leaned towards him and they kissed lightly. ‘Until tomorrow.'

Daniel returned thoughtfully to his unloading as the Land Rover left the yard. It seemed incredible, but was it just possible that Tamzin's new stable lass was Elena's sister?

Reynolds had claimed she'd turned up safe and well, but
had
she? Daniel only had his word for it, and that had so far proven to be worth very little. He thought back over his telephone conversation with the man, remembering the pause when Reynolds had waited for him to state his business. ‘I was going to ring you . . .' he'd said, but instead of immediately sharing the good news about Katya's return, he'd waited for Daniel to ask.

Was that because he thought Daniel might himself have some news of the girl and therefore catch him out in his lie?

Daniel turned up at Quarry Farm with a bottle of wine in hand, just after half past seven the next evening.

Taking the path behind the stables and down the stone steps that led to the cottage, he was met at the door by Tamzin, who leaned forward for a kiss before standing back to let him into the low-ceilinged interior.

‘Sorry I'm late. I took Taz for a walk and went further than I intended.'

‘So where is he now?'

‘In the car. He's a bit wet,' Daniel said, handing her the bottle and bending down to greet her menagerie of dogs. ‘Besides, I didn't want to scare Kat. He can be a bit daunting at first.'

‘Ah. About Kat . . .' Tamzin shut the front door and followed him into the kitchen, her Labrador, spaniel and Yorkshire terrier bustling through the doorway with her. ‘There's a bit of a problem.'

‘Oh?'

‘Well, I asked her to come down here at about a quarter to seven – get some of her details sorted out and stuff – but she didn't turn up. So I went over to the cabins and they said she'd gone.'

‘Gone? Where?'

‘
Gone
gone. Taken all her things and cleared out – not that she had much. I must say, I was surprised. She seemed to be settling in quite well, but there you go.'

‘Did you, by any chance, tell her that I was coming?'

Tamzin frowned. ‘Yes. Wasn't I meant to? I'm sorry. You didn't say.'

‘I didn't think of it. It's not your fault.'

‘So what did you want her for? Do you know her?'

‘I know
of
her – if she's who I think she is, and that's beginning to look increasingly likely. You say she didn't come with much gear?'

Tamzin shook her head. ‘Hardly any. Just the clothes she was wearing – jeans, jumper and a jacket – and she had a tiny rucksack bag, you know, like the kids carry to school. I had to lend her some jodhs – she didn't even have those. To be honest, I wondered if she was a runaway, but she swore she was sixteen.' She took two wine glasses from the kitchen cupboard and, from a drawer, a corkscrew, which she handed to Daniel. ‘Here, make yourself useful. So,
was
she a runaway?'

‘In a way, yes.'

Tamzin paused in the act of taking stir-fry ingredients from the fridge and turned to face him. ‘Are you going to tell me any more, or do I have to prise it out of you? Because – I don't mind telling you – I'm getting just the teensiest bit fed up with all these bloody guessing games!'

‘I'm sorry.' Daniel couldn't blame her for losing patience with him. He handed her a large glass of ruby-coloured wine and, settling his rump against the edge of the granite worktop, proceeded to tell her the tale, including his subsequent doubts.

‘And you think Kat is the missing girl?'

‘I think it's possible, don't you?'

‘But you don't know for sure she's still missing. I mean, why would this Reynolds guy lie about finding her?'

‘Because he quite plainly doesn't want the police involved and I think he guessed that if he admitted she was still missing, I'd call them myself.'