Driven by Fear (The DS Lasser Book 27) Read online

  Lasser said nothing, the truth was he felt the same way and even now as they headed along the lane, he knew it could well turn out to be a wasted journey.

  'Are you sure this track is along here somewhere?' Bannister asked with the beginnings of a frown plucking at his brow.

  'Pretty sure.'

  'The blind leading the blind,' the DCI sighed.

  Lasser ignored him, he was used to the way Bannister complained whenever they were bogged down in a case with no real leads to chase down.

  'Julie Emmeret was taken in North Wales and yet she ended up here, why is that?' Bannister asked fully aware that Lasser would be unable to supply an answer.

  'I have no idea.'

  'Some help you are.'

  'OK then, blind me with your intellect?' Lasser replied keeping well to the left of the narrow lane.

  'What are you talking about?'

  'Look, I know as much as you do which is basically sod all, I mean, whoever took her might not live anywhere near hear, they could come from Wales themselves for all we know.'

  Bannister crossed his arms, his tie askew. 'Don't be ridiculous, they must have a connection with the area, otherwise why would they have brought her out here to chase her down?'

  Lasser thought about what his boss was saying, but still nothing leapt into his mind.

  The DCI shifted in the passenger seat. 'I reckon she was snatched in North Wales, and brought here, the bastard kept her here in the area before he chased her to her death.'

  'So, you think whoever did this lives locally?'

  Unfolding his arms, Bannister scratched at his chin. 'Well, look at it like this, if those responsible lived over in Wales, then you don't get more off the beaten track than that. It would be the ideal place to chase someone down, no one for miles around, but they didn't do that, she turned up here, so yeah, I think the bastard could well be from around these parts.'

  Lasser found himself nodding in agreement, and then slowed the car down to almost a crawl as the narrow track appeared on the right.

  'And you say this leads towards the fields where Julie Emmeret was found?' the DCI asked.

  'It's the nearest one to Hamley Road that's for sure, which is about a mile and a half back there,' Lasser said before turning onto the track, the car bumping over the uneven ground.

  'I can never work life out,' Bannister suddenly said as he grabbed the strap above the door.

  'What are you talking about?' Lasser fumbled a cigarette from the pack coming to a brief halt as he lit it and then set off again.

  'Synchronicity, how the wheels turn, and things align.'

  'Are you going all new age on me?' Lasser asked before sliding the window down to let the smoke out.

  'Don't be a tosser, I meant how things unfold, take Rea Lomax, if she had called for a taxi when Draper dumped her at the side of the road then she would never have been on out in the middle of nowhere. If Draper had stopped to light a cig or take a leak then he would never have hit Julie Emmeret, all it would have taken was one small change and none of this would have happened.'

  'No, but Julie would still have been running for her life.'

  Bannister turned his head to look at Lasser. 'But that's just it we don't know why she was running and what the intentions were of those who were chasing her.'

  'Well, they can't have been good, we know that much.'

  'Yet if one thing had changed then she could still be alive.'

  Lasser blew out more smoke on a sigh. 'We can't deal in what ifs.'

  Bannister sniffed as he turned to face front again. 'I know that but like I said, life bloody stinks at times.'

  When they came to the gap in the trees, Lasser brought the car to a stop and pushed the door open.

  'Why have we stopped?'

  'Because the lane leads to a dead end and there's not even room to turn the car around,' Lasser replied before climbing out into the early afternoon sunshine.

  Bannister followed suit and they looked to their right over two fields of stubbled grass – the field that Julie Emmeret had dashed through leaving her tracks was in the distance – Hamley Road just visible as a thin ribbon of black beyond, shimmering in the heat haze.

  Moving to the ditch, Lasser leapt across, landing on the other side before stepping into the field.

  Seconds later, he heard Bannister grunt as he cleared the obstacle and moved to his side.

  'Which way?' he asked.

  Lasser looked to his left, trees bordered the field in a horseshoe shape. 'Let's follow the line of trees.'

  'Why?'

  Lasser looked at him and shrugged. 'Well, we have to start somewhere.'

  Bannister's face turned sour and then he nodded. 'Come on then, let's get started.'

  Moving left, they could see gulls dotted here and there in the field. Two squabbled over a scrap of food while a third hopped in and flew away with the prize stowed in its beak, the harsh squawks of the fighting pair sounding loud in the still air.

  The trees to their left had unfurled their leaves in the late spring sunshine and now basked in the welcoming sun, the sky remained a perfect blue, not a cloud in sight.

  'Any other time it never stops raining and there would have been tracks to follow in the mud and yet the ground is rock hard,' the DCI complained.

  'Remind me to check with Carl on the cast of the boot we found.'

  'A boot that could have been left by anyone, it could have been made weeks or even months ago.'

  'Stop moaning,' Lasser said, his eyes searching the ground as they walked, looking for anything that could help them discover the direction that Julie came from when she was being chased down.

  Bannister saw a couple of flattened McDonald's boxes in the field, the sight of them brought out another heavy sigh. 'Look at that, even out here people drop their shite.'

  'Consumerism at its worst,' Lasser replied.

  'I'm just waiting to find the bags of dog crap hanging from the trees.'

  They carried on walking, sticking to the trees, when suddenly a figure appeared from the left, a shotgun broken over the crook of his right arm, a boy of about ten by his side.

  'This isn't a public footpath,' the man said as he emerged from the woodland, the boy close behind.

  'It's OK, we're the police,' Lasser explained as they came to a stop.

  The man looked at them both with suspicion in his eyes, he looked like a typical farmer, short in height and broad shouldered, sporting a flat cap even though he only looked to be in his late forties. Muckmaster wellies on his feet, the jeans tucked in and sporting a blue checked work shirt, the lad by his side looked like a miniature version of the man.

  'Is this to do with the woman who was knocked down and killed?' he asked.

  'You've heard about that?' Lasser asked.

  'Aye, it was on the radio, and I saw a couple of cop cars parked on the road.'

  'You live around here then?' Bannister asked.

  'Name's Bill Dyer,' the man replied. 'We've farmed this land for four generations.'

  'And I take it the lad is number five?' Bannister asked as he smiled at the boy who had a look of suspicion on his face to match the man by his side.

  Then the boy puffed out his chest and drew his narrow shoulders back. 'Like my dad, said this is private land and you should have asked us first before you went trampling through the field.'

  Bannister felt the smile slip from his lips before looking at the father and raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to put the boy straight.

  The father kept his mouth closed and then Lasser stepped forward.

  'You see the thing is we don't need anyone's permission, son, we have the authority to go where we like, when we like.'

  The boy looked up at Lasser and huffed before adjusting the flat cap to a jaunty angle, his small hands bunching into fists. 'You should still have asked.'

  His father smiled as if pleased by his son's response.

  Bannister felt the annoyance slide into his brain. 'You
didn't see any cars parked on the track on the night she was knocked down, did you?' he asked.

  Bill Dyer tick-tocked his head left and right. 'If I had I would have told them to shift, that lane's private property as well.'

  'What about ramblers' rights?' Bannister demanded, his dislike for the farmer growing with every word he uttered.

  Dyer merely shrugged and made no comment.

  Two swallows went zipping by, chirping to one another, the sound shrill, and then they were gone.

  'How much land do you actually own?' Lasser asked.

  'Two hundred acres,' Dyer glanced at Lasser, his chin tilted slightly as if proud of his acreage.

  'What about the woods?'

  'All of it.'

  'Yeah, all of it,' the son parroted.

  'And you saw nothing out of the ordinary two nights ago, no headlights in the darkness, anything like that?' Bannister asked.

  'Like I said, if I'd seen anyone running over my land then they would have got both barrels up the backside.'

  Son smiled at father's words.

  'I take it you have a licence for the gun?' Bannister asked through thin lips of annoyance.

  'Got the licence and gun cabinet, everything is in order,' Dyer replied with the hint of arrogance in his voice as if he had somehow got one over on the ''filth''.

  Bannister moved to Lasser side.

  'Well, let me tell you something, Mr Dyer, if you had been out here on the night that woman was running for her life, and you'd let fly with that thing,' he paused to jab a finger at the gun, 'then right now you would be in the nick awaiting trial for attempted murder and your lad here would have spent the next few years wondering when his father would be released. So, think about that before you act like some lorded landowner, some throw back to when peasants were thrown off ''your land''.'

  Dyer suddenly looked unsure of himself, and then Bannister glanced down at the boy.

  'Did your old man ever tell you that all property is theft?'

  The boy looked up at him in confusion.

  'So, when big daddy here is strutting around with his big gun, you remember that, remember that nothing lasts forever, son, and one day you might need our help, but considering this is private property you wouldn't want us on your land, would you?'

  'What's he talking about, Dad?' the boy asked as he glanced up at his father.

  'Ignore him, Tommy, he's talking shite,' Dyer replied, his dark brow now set in a deep frown.

  'All property is theft,' Lasser suddenly said, repeating Bannister's words.

  The DCI looked at him. 'What's with the echo?' he asked.

  Lasser looked back at Dyer. 'Tell me something, do you actually own this land?'

  Bannister watched as the farmer's face suddenly flooded with colour and he cleared his throat, the barrel of the shotgun gleaming in the bright sunlight.

  The swallows darted by again as noisy as ever.

  'Well, answer the man?' Bannister growled.

  'The Dyer family have been here for…'

  'Four generations, you've already said that,' the DCI interrupted. 'But the question was do you actually own these ''two hundred acres'' you are so proud of?'

  'Leased,' Dyer replied in a low hiss.

  'You're a tenant farmer then?'

  Dyer nodded before glancing at his son who continued to look baffled.

  'What they talking about, Dad?'

  'Nothing,' his father replied, his voice coming out as a sharp rasp.

  'So, who actually owns the land?' Bannister demanded.

  'Tommy, wait here a minute,' Dyer said as he nodded to the left.

  'But I thought we we're going to shoot some crows?'

  'Just bloody stand there and do as I say,' his father barked over his shoulder.

  Lasser and Bannister followed the farmer, when he had moved twenty-five feet away from the boy he came to a stop and turned.

  'The land's owned by Lord Jepson,' he hissed, keeping an eye on his son to make sure he didn't move towards them.

  'Never heard of the man,' Bannister said, slipping his hands into his pockets.

  Dyer looked disgusted and then he glanced at Lasser.

  'I've heard the name, saw it once or twice when I was in the dentist's reading old copies of Lancashire Life.'

  Dyer sighed. 'The Jepson family own over fifty thousand acres around these parts, they have over twenty tenant farmers, but the Dyers are one of the oldest families to work the land.'

  'Jepson's land,' Bannister corrected.

  The flush of colour increased in Dyer's cheeks. 'They might own it, but we still have rights.'

  'No, you don't,' Lasser said. 'You know that if Jepson wanted rid of you then he could do it, and you and your lad would be out on your arse.'

  Dyer looked as if he wanted to snap the shotgun closed and go on the rampage, the fury clattering through his brain brought about by the truth of Lasser's words.

  'Where does Jepson live?' Bannister asked.

  'The family seat is in Wrightington,' Dyer answered, the anger still writhing across his weather-beaten face.

  Lasser thought of the main road that led through Wrightington and onto Parbold, a fast-moving A-road lined on either side by a tall dry-stone wall that ran on for miles. Although he had driven along the road dozens of times, he had never considered what was on the other side of the tall wall though he now suspected it was Jepson land.

  'And what's he like, this lord feller?' Bannister asked.

  'Last time I saw him was three years ago.'

  'He's not what you would call hands-on then?'

  'When you have as much cash and land as he does then you don't have to worry about stuff like that, we pay him yearly and that's the end of the matter.'

  'Your lad thinks you own all this, doesn't he?' Bannister asked.

  For the first time Dyer looked genuinely embarrassed. 'Look, like I said we have been here for generations, this land is in our blood, and I think of it as Dyer land not Jepson land.'

  'So, you bullshit yourself then?' Lasser asked.

  Dyer seemed to shake with rage at the insult. 'Look, have you done here?' he demanded.

  'No, we bloody well haven't,' Bannister replied his voice packed with annoyance. 'A woman was killed here and one vanished, so we take our time, and we go wherever we like, whether you like it or not,' he barked jabbing a finger into Dyer's chest.

  The farmer licked his lips as he saw the anger in Bannister's eyes and then he nodded.

  'Right, right, well just make sure you close any gates you go through,' he mumbled his face still glowing with embarrassment.

  'What gates?' Lasser asked as he looked around at the fields separated by trees and ditches.

  Dyer never answered as he stalked over towards his son.

  'Is everything OK, Dad?' the boy asked.

  When his father didn't answer, Tommy glared at Lasser and Bannister and then followed his old man back into the woodland, seconds later they vanished from view.

  Checking his watch, Bannister sighed as he looked out over the open vista. 'I can't see us finding anything here,' he said.

  'What about Jepson?' Lasser asked.

  'You want to go and grill the big knob?' Bannister asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Lasser shrugged. 'To be honest everything we have done so far has felt like a waste of time.'

  Bannister nodded in understanding and then straightened his shoulders. 'One man owns all this land and according to Dyer he hasn't seen the lord in three years, but you're right, we need to go and have a word with the man.'

  'If we're going to see aristocracy then you'll have to straighten your tie,' Lasser quipped.

  'Bloody idiot,' Bannister commented as they turned and headed back the way they had come, the sun continuing to travel across the clear blue sky – as the DCI furtively adjusted his tie.

  48

  Erin waved as Barry backed down the drive, beeping the horn before he drove away, he was running late for work and she smiled
warmly as she thought about them making love the night before, tender love, real love, something she had never known had existed until Barry Joy had come into her life.

  Stepping back into the house, she closed the door before heading into the kitchen, afternoon sunlight flooding the room.

  Barry was working the late shift and it was the one she hated the most, she was fine with the earlies, because he was always home by half past two, but now as she sat at the table, she knew that within a few short hours it would be dark, and her nerves would be stretched as the familiar fear sneaked into her mind.

  She thought of her soon-to-be ex-husband and as always whenever she pictured him it was always dark, as if his very image was filled with its own blackness.

  Grabbing the half full cup of coffee, she held it between her hands trying to thrust her abuser from her mind, but he wouldn't be shifted, his face was set in a sneer of hatred as he strode towards her.

  Then she thought of Barry and the first time they had made love, she had been rigid with fear, her body trembling with remembered pain, Barry had stopped and held her, and she had cried.

  After that they had slept curled together, his arms around her as she drifted off to sleep. He had never pressurised her after that night, never demanded anything and two months later, she had been the one to turn to him, and they had kissed and for the first time ever her body had trembled not with fear but with anticipation. Afterwards she had cried again, though this time they had been tears of amazement that there had been no pain, no bruises or cuts and she had drifted off to sleep with a real sense of contentment.

  She refocused and looked out through the patio doors to the garden, the grass was starting to grow tall.

  'I'll get that mowed today,' she said to herself before placing the cup in the sink.

  Sunlight sparkled off the taps and she moved slightly left to avoid the glare, the kitchen was spotless, that was one of the things she was finding hard to change about her new life, the need to clean still filled her waking hours. She could remember talking to an action group for woman who had suffered at the hands of their partners, and she had come to realise that her obsession had been a coping mechanism and one used by lots of victims of violence.