Cold Justice (Willis/Carter #4)(51)

‘Did it sound like bullshit?’

‘Surprisingly not. Maybe because he was calm when he told me. He looked like he’d been hoping not to have to say it.’

‘How true do you think that is? Is it possible?’

‘I’ve no idea. Toby’s the son of a messed-up man who as far as we know did his best to mess his son up. Anything’s possible. Robbo’s looking into it.’

They walked down towards the sea. The cloud had cleared and the stars began to assert their presence. Down at the beach there was a light coming from the accommodation above the farm shop; it was barely a glow as the blackout curtains did their job, but a security light was still on above the front door. Someone had either just arrived or left. The light went on in the dress shop a few doors down.

They crossed the road to the Surfshack and walked round on the sand to its beach side. From there they watched the farm shop. A smartly dressed woman in heels came out. Carter recognized her as the owner of the boutique, Mary-Jane Trebethin. She opened the door with a key.

They waited for thirty-five minutes. She didn’t come out.

‘Let’s go,’ Carter said. They headed back up the hill to the house. They were within sight when they saw the glow of the security light shining brightly out from between the branches of the pines. ‘There’s someone coming out of the gate,’ said Carter.

In a second Willis was sprinting up the steep hill and keeping her eyes focused on the person now running not too far ahead. Carter kept pace with Willis as best he could as she gave chase up the hill. He slowed as he struggled for breath. Willis ran on, climbing over a farm gate to her right. She pushed hard up and over the field’s rough frozen terrain. She couldn’t see her own feet as she lost her footing. She heard someone else to her left, running close to the hedge. Willis looked up and across at the big shadowy body of a horse that was standing still now and taking an interest.

‘Stop,’ she shouted across. She could hear someone else’s hard breathing but no slowing pace. ‘Police officer! Stop!’ The horse snorted. The top of the field loomed ahead of her. Five caravans stood at the far side of the field. Beyond them and to the right of the field Willis saw a figure run in front of one of the white-sided vans. The light from a torch came bouncing over the hedge. As the horse started to trot over to her, Willis stayed where she was and signalled to Carter, who had caught her up.

‘I’m not good with horses . . . someone ran in over there.’ Their breaths ballooned, white in the icy night. ‘I think they’ve gone into one of the vans.’

The horse snorted as it came to a standstill in front of them. Its face was white, with large eyes. It had a rug on its back.

Carter reached out to touch its face.

‘All right there, lad.’

The horse nuzzled into Carter’s hand. It followed them up the field as they walked together towards the first of the vans, which were gleaming in the moonlight. The vans, side-on to them, were spaced unevenly. They walked around and took a van each as they tried to see in, but all the curtains were closed; most of them looked locked up for the winter. On the last van Willis called Carter over. Inside she could see the faint red glow from a fridge light. He nodded. Willis knocked on the door and waited. She knocked again louder. They heard a shuffling noise. Someone shouted from the other side.

‘Who is it?’ a woman’s voice answered. The voice came from somewhere at the back of the caravan. A curtain was pulled aside and the window pushed open.

‘What is it?’

‘Police officers – could we have a word?’

Carter took a step back from the door as they waited. They heard the turn of a key and the caravan door opened. A woman stood on the other side in an oversized T-shirt that had a Disney logo on the front. She pulled a blanket around herself as she squinted at them.

‘Excuse us for bothering you, but are you alone in this van?’ The horse tried to nudge past them.

‘Yes. Back, Misty . . . back.’

The woman was trying to hide the fact she was out of breath as she came out and pushed the horse gently backwards with a hand on its chest.

‘Lovely horse. Are any of these other vans occupied?’ asked Carter.

‘Not at present.’

‘Can I get your name, please?’

‘Kensa Cooper.’

He could smell the poverty coming from the van. The toll life had taken on her was sunken into her hollow cheeks. She had heavy eyeliner, which had smudged and gave her a haunted look as if she was made-up for Halloween. She was probably not even thirty but looked much older. She had a slurring in her voice, madness in her eyes.

‘Were you out in the field just now, Kensa?’ She didn’t answer. ‘If you were that was pretty hard going running up that hill and over these fields. No wonder you’re still out of breath,’ Carter said, smiling kindly. ‘Ebony here is a great runner and even she couldn’t catch you.’

‘I didn’t do anything wrong. You shouldn’t have chased me.’ Kensa pulled the blanket tightly around herself. She went back in and tried to close the door on them but Carter put his foot in the way.

‘We can’t leave just yet. We need to know a few things then we’ll go,’ said Carter sternly.

‘It’s all right, Kensa,’ said Willis. ‘We’re not going to hurt you – we just need to talk to you, that’s all, and then we’ll leave.’