Read Online Tyack & Frayne Mysteries 01 - Once Upon A Haunted Moor by Harper Fox - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Harper Fox
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have, haven’t I? I’ve told.”
Gideon picked him up. He was small and skinny, and it was no effort to hoist him by the armpits across to Mrs Prowse. She opened her arms in a startled maternal reflex, and Daz, who’d been fighting off her embraces since he could walk, huddled up into her lap. “Look after him,” Gideon said fiercely. “Tell him there’s no bloody beast on Bodmin Moor. And as for Joe Kemp – he won’t hurt anyone either. Not after today.”
Chapter Nine
No time for shock, for the sickness of friendship betrayed, of a wolf in the fold for so long. No time for wonder, either, at what could have brought Joe to harm the family he’d adored since Alf Kemp left. During his short run to the police station, Gideon allowed himself only the businesslike reflection that Joe had done it well, set things up so that the search would start in the wrong place, and then, as more of the truth came out, blame would be cast on Bill Prowse. Bill was a good scapegoat – universally disliked, and a glance through the living-room window would have told Joe he was out for the count that night.
Gideon took the steps up to the station door in one. “Liz!” he barked, making her jump and drop her biscuit into her tea. “Get me the number for Detective Inspector Kinver at Truro, the CID guy. Quick! And did you make that call to the school?”
“Yes, soon as you told me. What’s going on, Gid?”
“Never mind. Just get me... Is that it? Great. Ta.”
Gideon sat down. He made his call. This time he felt no alarm, no hesitation at bringing such big guns to bear on his little village case: Joe Kemp knew where the child was, and he had to be found. The Truro inspector didn’t ask what had brought Gideon to this conclusion. Gideon was grateful, but not in the startled way of the day before when the search and K-9 men had come at his bidding. He’d served this community well. He was a reliable officer, and his word had been taken at its proper value. Reinforcements would be sent to him. A county-wide lookout alert would be set up at once for Joe. Dog handlers and a forensics team would be dispatched to the Prowse house.
Prows, windows, blue and green roses... There wasn’t time now to tell the inspector where the credit lay, but Gideon would rectify that as soon as he could. He asked for some men to be sent back to Wheal Catherine: nothing had been found there, but now Gideon couldn’t afford to leave any part of Lee’s vision untended.
Lee. Gideon hung up, absently taking the coffee Liz handed him. Lee had been right about everything so far. Gideon needed him here. He dialled his home number, stray memories of the odd call to James, their stilted conversations, bouncing off him and flying away. There was no answer. Maybe Lee was out with Isolde, or was hesitant to pick up the landline in his host’s home. That was the only contact Gideon had. He’d never foreseen that a day would come when he’d end up sharing body fluids with a man before exchanging mobile numbers, but there it was. “Liz,” he said, jumping to his feet. “I have to go get Lee Tyack. I’ll take the Rover after that and check Joe’s fields up by the crags. Radio me as soon as any of the guys from Truro arrive here, okay?”
***
The house was still and quiet. Gideon, breathless from his run up the lane, pushed open the living-room door. “Lee? You here?”
The dog trotted through to greet him. Normally she hurled herself at his knees with knock-down force, but there were lights in her eyes he’d never seen before, a new focus. He crouched down to her. “Is it your fancy name, then, Isolde?” He rumpled her ears. “Where’s Lee?”
The kitchen was tidy. Their breakfast things had been washed and set to dry in the rack. Isolde had been taken for a good walk, to judge from her serenity and the pair of borrowed wellingtons by the back door, mud-stained and with extra socks inside them to make them fit. Gideon grinned. He
Gideon picked him up. He was small and skinny, and it was no effort to hoist him by the armpits across to Mrs Prowse. She opened her arms in a startled maternal reflex, and Daz, who’d been fighting off her embraces since he could walk, huddled up into her lap. “Look after him,” Gideon said fiercely. “Tell him there’s no bloody beast on Bodmin Moor. And as for Joe Kemp – he won’t hurt anyone either. Not after today.”
Chapter Nine
No time for shock, for the sickness of friendship betrayed, of a wolf in the fold for so long. No time for wonder, either, at what could have brought Joe to harm the family he’d adored since Alf Kemp left. During his short run to the police station, Gideon allowed himself only the businesslike reflection that Joe had done it well, set things up so that the search would start in the wrong place, and then, as more of the truth came out, blame would be cast on Bill Prowse. Bill was a good scapegoat – universally disliked, and a glance through the living-room window would have told Joe he was out for the count that night.
Gideon took the steps up to the station door in one. “Liz!” he barked, making her jump and drop her biscuit into her tea. “Get me the number for Detective Inspector Kinver at Truro, the CID guy. Quick! And did you make that call to the school?”
“Yes, soon as you told me. What’s going on, Gid?”
“Never mind. Just get me... Is that it? Great. Ta.”
Gideon sat down. He made his call. This time he felt no alarm, no hesitation at bringing such big guns to bear on his little village case: Joe Kemp knew where the child was, and he had to be found. The Truro inspector didn’t ask what had brought Gideon to this conclusion. Gideon was grateful, but not in the startled way of the day before when the search and K-9 men had come at his bidding. He’d served this community well. He was a reliable officer, and his word had been taken at its proper value. Reinforcements would be sent to him. A county-wide lookout alert would be set up at once for Joe. Dog handlers and a forensics team would be dispatched to the Prowse house.
Prows, windows, blue and green roses... There wasn’t time now to tell the inspector where the credit lay, but Gideon would rectify that as soon as he could. He asked for some men to be sent back to Wheal Catherine: nothing had been found there, but now Gideon couldn’t afford to leave any part of Lee’s vision untended.
Lee. Gideon hung up, absently taking the coffee Liz handed him. Lee had been right about everything so far. Gideon needed him here. He dialled his home number, stray memories of the odd call to James, their stilted conversations, bouncing off him and flying away. There was no answer. Maybe Lee was out with Isolde, or was hesitant to pick up the landline in his host’s home. That was the only contact Gideon had. He’d never foreseen that a day would come when he’d end up sharing body fluids with a man before exchanging mobile numbers, but there it was. “Liz,” he said, jumping to his feet. “I have to go get Lee Tyack. I’ll take the Rover after that and check Joe’s fields up by the crags. Radio me as soon as any of the guys from Truro arrive here, okay?”
***
The house was still and quiet. Gideon, breathless from his run up the lane, pushed open the living-room door. “Lee? You here?”
The dog trotted through to greet him. Normally she hurled herself at his knees with knock-down force, but there were lights in her eyes he’d never seen before, a new focus. He crouched down to her. “Is it your fancy name, then, Isolde?” He rumpled her ears. “Where’s Lee?”
The kitchen was tidy. Their breakfast things had been washed and set to dry in the rack. Isolde had been taken for a good walk, to judge from her serenity and the pair of borrowed wellingtons by the back door, mud-stained and with extra socks inside them to make them fit. Gideon grinned. He
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