Dead Of Winter (Willis/Carter #1)(48)

‘Where’s he gone, do you know?’

Bridget shook her head.

‘How long will he be away?’

‘T’aint my business.’

Ebony looked about her. ‘Are you looking after things here for him?’

‘Aye.’ Bridget shut the barn door and walked across to the house. She scrutinized Ebony as she passed. ‘What do you want?’

Ebony followed her into the tack room. ‘He must have said how long he thought you would be looking after it?’ Bridget didn’t answer. ‘Can I scrounge a cup of tea? It’s a long way back. I promise I won’t stay long.’

Bridget looked Ebony over, weighing up in her mind what Carmichael would want her to do and what she could be bothered with.

‘Was stopping anyway.’ She prised off her wellingtons in the tack room and washed her hands in the scullery sink, then walked through to the kitchen.

Ebony followed her and saw Rusty tucked up in Rosie’s basket in the corner of the kitchen, a lamb in beside him. She knelt to stroke Rusty. Bridget slid the kettle onto the top of the Aga.

‘How’s he doing?’

Bridget nodded, softened. ‘Good.’

‘Who’s his new friend?’

‘We’ve had a lot of twins this year. This mother’s not the best at looking after her young.’

Ebony sat at the kitchen table where she’d sat opposite Carmichael just a couple of days before.

‘I’m hand-rearing this one and Rusty’s helping keep him warm.’

‘Can I use the bathroom?’

‘Upstairs . . .’

‘Thanks . . . be back in a minute.’

Ebony finished in the bathroom and she quietly turned the handle of Carmichael’s room. His bedding was neatly folded and placed on top of his bed. His wardrobe was empty.

Back in the kitchen, she asked, ‘Has he been gone long, Bridget?’

‘Not long.’

She handed Ebony a cup of tea.

‘Hours?

‘A day or so.’

‘Carmichael’s lucky to have you here, not many people would be able to look after things for him.’

Bridget stood with her back to Ebony as she put sugar in her tea.

‘Tis what I always do. Nothing queer in it. I got my dad to come down and help. We’ll manage the lambing.’

‘Do you know where he’s gone, Bridget?’

As Bridget put her own tea on the kitchen table and her eyes settled on Ebony’s face. Her eyes were the same colour as the dusky blue hat she was wearing. The lashes around them were thick and fair.

‘He must really trust you then to leave you in charge of the farm. You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?’

Bridget looked away for a few seconds then back at Ebony. ‘He took me in when I had nowhere else to go; taught me about rearing sheep, taught me how to look after things . . . and myself. He never wanted nothing from me.’ She glanced up at Ebony. Ebony gave her a smile that said I know what it’s like to love someone and not get it back. ‘I owe him a lot. If he’s in trouble I want to help.’

‘You can help him, Bridget. Tell me where he’s gone and I’ll do my best for him. I promise.’

She could see Bridget thinking it over, her hands tight round the mug of tea.

‘I told you, he’s not one to trust; but he liked you.’

Ebony smiled ‘He’s facing a tough time.’

‘Will you bring him back here to the farm, to me?’

‘I promise to try.’ Ebony passed her over a card with her mobile number. ‘If he turns up or contacts you, let me know, Bridget. I am on his side.’

Bridget took the card. She turned it over in her hands. Ebony could see she wanted to talk. ‘If he phones I’ll tell him to call you.’

‘Where do you think he’s gone, Bridget?’

‘All I can tell you is that he’s taken their photo and he’s taken his gun.’ Her eyes flitted over Ebony’s face. ‘Never seen him so troubled. I think he’s gone searching for the people who murdered his wife and child. Don’t think he’ll ever be coming back here, save in a box, to be buried up there on the hilltop.’





Chapter 30


Robbo walked down a floor to the exhibits room in Fletcher House. He keyed in his code on the door. Each murder squad in the building had their own designated exhibits room. Inside were shelves floor to ceiling with the various sizes of scene-of-crime bags, plastic containers of all sizes and packets of forensic suits. To the left was a small partitioned area where two DCs could sit.

He unlocked the door to the caged area where the exhibits were housed waiting to be taken to court or sent to the forensic laboratory. On a high shelf he found the Carmichael case exhibits, newly arrived back from the warehouse. Robbo lifted the exhibits box down and began going through the bags inside. After an hour of searching he phoned Ebony. She was on her way back to Fletcher House from the station.

‘Yeah, I found it, have it in my hand right now.’ He looked at the small brown packet. ‘It’s a piece of fabric, ten-centimetre square.’ Robbo looked at it through the plastic window at the front. He moved it round. ‘It’s heavily bloodstained.’

‘Does it say whose blood it is?’