A small window at the end of the gable gave him a view on to a section of the yard and out on to the field beyond. Not quite what he wanted but a quick flash of the torch reinforced his guess that this was the best he could do.
Kinnear dumped his pack and his water. The gun weighed down his pocket and the spare clip offered some kind of balance on the other. He took out the clothing and bits of bedding packed up for the charities that never got them and he made himself a rough bed beneath the window, then settled down, knowing that no more could be achieved that night. The police would be all over Fallowfields. Kinnear was good at playing the waiting game. He was aware he had a reputation for impatience, for having a short fuse, but he could think of no one else he knew who would have kept it up as long as he had, this search for the bastard who’d done him out of his money and worse, who’d tried to make a fool out of him.
He had waited this long. He could afford to wait another day.
Thirty-Three
Kinnear’s phone was off and likely to remain so but DS Fine had been working his way through the list of numbers in Reid’s mobile. By rights he should have got on to this a while ago, he thought, but it had gone off to be printed and the SIM card backed up – a precaution against ham-fisted DSs like himself accidentally deleting the very information he needed to recover.
Now he had it back, and the prints had confirmed the identity of the owner as one Derek Reid, Fine was happy to be getting on with the task in hand, particularly as he had now been told that Mr Reid had just been picked up and taken into hospital, apparently in a pretty bad way. Fine wasn’t going to be able to talk to him until the medics said so and from the sound of things that wasn’t going to be soon. Fine was preparing for a very late night.
In fact Derek Reid’s phone was a little disappointing. Either Reid had very few friends or he had bought the mobile recently. I mean, Fine thought, who has the local takeaway on speed dial.
Wan’s Kitchen was one of only five entries. Kinnear of course, someone called Bee who was unavailable, a taxi company and Sharon.
That one caused Fine to pause. Danny had said Reid and Kinnear had been to the farm. It was too much to be a coincidence.
Fine pressed the button and called. Sharon Fielding picked up on the second ring. ‘Derek? Where the hell have you been. I’ve been waiting to hear from you since last night.’
‘Mrs Fielding. No, please don’t hang up, this is DS Fine. Derek’s been hurt.’
‘Hurt? Oh my God, what did that effing animal do to him?’
He guessed she must mean Kinnear. No one, Fine reflected, had much of an opinion of Sam Kinnear.
‘He was involved in a car accident, Mrs Fielding.’
‘A car accident?’
‘Yes. Now, Mrs Fielding, I’d like you to tell me where you are.’
‘Why?’
‘Two reasons. One, I’d like to take you to see Mr Reid. The other is that there’s reason to believe Sam Kinnear is on the move. He thinks Derek’s let him down. I suspect he may think you had something to do with it.’
Well, he reflected, what was a white lie between friends. It was the kind of lie that might reveal how much she knew about Kinnear, if nothing else.
It appeared she might know quite a lot because he had the address of the hotel within the next breath. That and an appeal for someone to come and get her. Now.
Fine told her he was on his way. At least, he thought, he’d be able to tell Danny that his mother wasn’t dead. Not totally dead, he amended, just dead from the neck up.
Sharon Fielding was in the lobby with her bag on the floor at her feet when he arrived. She looked scared, Fine thought. Scared and tired as though she’d not been sleeping. He found himself hoping this was the case. She had cost her young son too many sleepless nights and in Fine’s book that was stepping way beyond the line.
A female officer was waiting for them in the car. Fine asked her to drive and then seated Sharon in the back.
‘You’ve got your mobile on you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then phone Danny. Do it now. Do you have any idea what you’ve put that boy through?’
‘Danny?’ she sounded puzzled.
‘Danny. Your son.’
‘I know who he is.’
‘Really? He’s not so sure.’
‘I left him a letter. I left it on the kitchen table, a letter explaining where I’d gone and why. It’s Danny hasn’t tried to contact me.’
‘I don’t think he got your letter,’ Fine told her.
‘That bastard. His dad must have got to it first. But he could have called my mobile?’
‘Could he? Does he have the number?’
‘Course he does, he … God, no, he doesn’t. The phone. I left mine so he couldn’t call me.’
‘Your husband?’
‘Yes. Him. This is new, Derek got me it. He had one the same.’ She took her mobile from her bag and weighed it in her hand as though really thinking about it for the first time. ‘God, I’m stupid. I should have guessed he’d hide the letter.’
‘Call him now.’
Fine watched as she dialled White Farm. ‘If he picks up I’m hanging up.’
‘Don’t you have the number to Danny’s phone?’
‘Not in this one. I don’t have jinx.’ She listened. Fine could almost hear her holding her breath. Someone picked up.
‘Danny? Oh Danny love, are you OK?’
‘Mum? Mum, where are you? I thought you were dead. Are you coming home?’
‘Dead? Why on earth. Oh Danny …’
Danny Fielding cradled the phone close to his ear. He could hardly believe it. She was OK, she was talking to him. It was going to be all right. He saw his dad come through and stand in the kitchen doorway. He was scowling, glowering at the phone. Danny held it closer, afraid he might snatch it away.
‘Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you … what letter? No, I never got it. Oh, mam, when are you coming home?’
‘I don’t know yet love, I’ve got to talk to the police before I do anything else.’
‘The police? Why?’ He could hear it in her voice. That was just a delaying tactic. The truth was she wasn’t coming back. He had known it all along but …
‘This is because of that man, isn’t it? Isn’t it?’
‘Danny, it isn’t like that. Danny, you’ve got to let me explain.’
But for Danny there was nothing to explain. He could not put into words how deep the sense of betrayal or by whom he felt the most betrayed. His mother who was leaving him or his dad who had lied about knowing, who had told him she had left no goodbyes.
Unable to bear any more, he lowered the phone and turned to face his father.
‘She said she left a note.’
His father glared at him, then turned away and picked up his jacket from the back of the kitchen chair. He strode past Danny, down the hall, out to the car, and drove away.
Danny was once again alone.
From his window in the barn, Kinnear watched Danny’s father go.
‘He hung up on me.’ Sharon was shocked. Horrified.
‘Can you blame him?’
She shook her head.
‘You’ve made a right pig’s ear of things, lass. It’ll take more sorting out than a single phone call.’
Thirty-Four
Sharon stared through the glass panel in the door. ‘Oh my god, what happened to him?’
‘The car rolled. He walked away but by rights he should have stayed put and had himself hauled off to the hospital like a sensible boy.’
‘But how, was he driving too fast. Derek didn’t drive fast. He was careful, cautious even.’
‘We don’t know everything. The doc hasn’t let me talk to him yet, but we know he was chasing after Marcus Prescott. We know he rammed Prescott’s car and we think he flipped when he crashed into his back end. The details we’ll have to discuss with Derek here when he wakes up.’