The Two Towns (The Lakeland Murders) (8 page)

‘Exactly. And if he also didn’t need any outside help, what does that tell us?’

Jane thought about it.

‘Where he was going isn’t far away from Kendal.’ Hall nodded encouragingly. ‘And he was either alone or he knew who he’d be staying with. And that he didn’t need to contact them first either.’

‘Yes, exactly, and if it’s the latter then Ian and Ray will find him soon enough. But we need to work on the basis that they won’t. So let’s think laterally. Has he been anywhere locally recently, with mates, with school, whatever? Somewhere that might have stuck in his mind, or appealed to him for some reason. My guess is that he made a snap decision about where to run to, so what’s the very first idea that would have popped into his head?’

‘I don’t know. Let me look at his calendar again.’

‘You do that, and I’ll make us both a brew.’

When Hall returned he didn’t look over Jane’s shoulder, or ask how she was doing, but simply sat at his desk and started to deal with his emails. There was no point in interrupting, and he had nothing useful to add. So they both worked on, in silence, until their tea cups were as cold as the tables they stood on. He was just about to crack and ask Jane how she was doing when she spoke.

‘Andy, look at this.’

He got up quickly, sat down next to her and looked at the screen.

‘What is this? Geography homework?’

‘Yes, pretty much. It’s his write up of a visit the class made at the start of the term, to a damson farm in the Lyth valley. Is that nearby?’

‘Yes, it’s down towards Grange. Really lovely, in spring especially. So you’re thinking he might be there? It’s a bit rural, to tell the truth. What would he do for food?’

‘That’s just it. Look at his pictures. He took this one of a roadside stall, selling damsons and all sorts of stuff. There’s just an honesty box for people to pay for what they take. Maybe he thinks he could live off that. His essay suggests that he loved the place. He writes like a real inner-city kid, Andy. It’s as if he’s never been to places like that before.’

‘He probably hasn’t. And I see what you mean. The enthusiasm comes through, doesn’t it? He’s a bright lad, we know that, but I don’t think he’s faking it, just writing what he thinks his teacher wants to read. All right, Jane, I’ll buy it. Let’s get out there and take a look. I’ll call and put the dog unit on stand-by as soon as they come on duty. We recovered some of the lad’s clothing, I assume?’

‘Yes. I’ve got it in an evidence bag by my desk.’

‘Good. Just leave it on top of your desk, will you? The dogs may be able to find almost anything but old Jack, the bloke who runs the team, couldn’t locate his arse with both hands.’

‘Are you going to get Ian and Ray involved?’

‘No, not at this stage. Let’s you and me go and find this farm, have a look around, chat to the locals. We can call the dog team straight in if we find anything. But I don’t want Ian and Ray distracted. Realistically they’re still the ones with the highest chance of finding the kid. Your idea is appealing, of course it is, but the reality of policing is that following the normal procedures is what usually brings results. Perspiration, not inspiration, usually wins the day.’

Hall drove them in his old BMW. Jane noticed that it was making an odd noise, but she didn’t like to say anything. Hall asked her how she was settling in.

‘Fine, thanks, Andy. People have been so friendly.’

‘Really? I mean good. That’s good. How well do you know the area?’

‘Not well at all. We came here a few times when I was a kid. Me and my mum. But we only went to the tourist places, you know. But I like walking, and I’ve got an old uni friend living in Kendal now, so I’m hoping to get out with her a bit. She’s got young kids, but everyone needs a bit of down-time, don’t they?’

‘You’ll have loads of fun, I promise you. And don’t think you won’t be able to find peace and quiet, because you will. There are lots of amazing places around here where the tourists never go. It’s amazing really. And then there are all the events that the locals keep to themselves too. Fascinating, some of them. They just sort of live pretty much as they always have, while the tourists wash over the place like a tide, leaving their cash behind as jetsam. Me, I blame Wordsworth for making the place so popular.’

‘And Coleridge, surely?’

‘We’ll let him off, shall we? The man had a pretty serious laudanum habit, after all. We can’t really hold him accountable for the invasion of the gagoule brigade.’

‘I wouldn’t have had you down as a liberal on drugs policy.’

Hall smiled. ‘In comparison with some of my colleagues I am, certainly. Although it has to be said that over the past few years more senior officers seem to be coming round to my way of thinking. No-one takes any notice of me of course, but I just don’t see addicts as criminals. They’re victims first, aren’t they?’

‘They commit some pretty nasty crimes though, Andy. I’d say more than half of the offences at my old nick had an addiction component.’

‘True enough. Anyway, Coleridge was a walker too, you know. One of the first people ever to climb Skiddaw, just for the fun of it. Maybe even the first. I’ve been up a couple of times myself, and can’t say I enjoyed it all that much.’

‘Bad weather?’

‘Bad fitness. That’s what comes of sitting behind a desk all day, and then eating too many pies at night.’

Jane’s mother had told her not to say anything if you couldn’t say something nice, and for once she actually took her mum’s advice. It was true, Hall could safely lose a stone or two.

They turned right off the main road towards Grange, and Hall slowed down. The road was narrow, with plenty of humps, bumps and bends.

‘This is the Lyth valley now. The farm we’re looking for is three or four miles along here on the right.’

‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’

‘It is, and this is the sort of area I was talking about, really. You know, when I talked about the hidden places. We’re just a few miles from Windermere, but I bet that most visitors have never even heard of this place. But until well after the war this was the epicentre of the local damson growing industry.’

‘The epicentre?’ laughed Jane.

‘You can mock, but just wait until next spring, and you come back along this road then. The damson blossom is absolutely amazing. And the damson gin they make isn’t too shabby either.’

‘Now you’re selling it to me.’

‘There are nice walks, well strolls really, up there, on Whitbarrow Scar. It’s not Scafell, but it’s a nice place to walk off a Sunday lunch.’

‘I’ll remember that, thanks.’

The road undulated along the valley floor, and Hall said something about glacial features, but Jane was thinking about the boy. Back in the office this had seemed to her like the only place he could possibly be, but now she was anything but certain. What would a kid from the town be doing right out here, on a cold November morning and with the first flakes of early snow swirling in the air?

‘Not far now’ said Hall, ‘I think it’s the next farm on the right. Yes, look, there it is.’

Jane saw the little stall that Johnny had photographed, and nodded to Hall.

‘Yes, this is the place. No question about it.’

They parked in the yard, next to the house, and got out. Hall knocked on the old oak front door, and Jane stood back a little. The farmhouse seemed to be almost part of the landscape, its stone walls settling into the valley floor over the centuries. No-one came.

‘I’ve wasted our time, Andy’ she said. Jane was suddenly convinced that the boy was anywhere but here.

‘No’ said Hall firmly. ‘If that’s the case, and he’s not here, then it’s down to me. If we win, it’s down to you, but if not then it was my decision. It’s what they pay me for.’

He knocked again and, to both of their surprise, a red faced woman opened the door almost immediately. She looked friendly, and even smiled when Hall said that he was a police officer. That surprised him some more, but then it didn’t happen often. Not these days, anyway.

‘Is it those poachers again?’ the woman asked. ‘My husband said they’d been out lamping up the valley again last week, like.’

‘No, it’s not about that. Could we come in for a minute?’

‘Aye, of course. Come through to the kitchen. I was baking.’

Of course you were, thought Jane.

The two officers sat on rickety chairs at the kitchen tables and drank tea from John Deere mugs. Hall guessed that a rep had left them.

‘Have you seen a young lad around here, anytime in the last few days?’

‘No. Not in the last few years, come to that.’

‘How about your husband? Has he said anything?’

‘No, not that I remember. But I don’t always listen.’ She smiled at Jane. ‘He’s at the auction today, is Ted. Do you want me to ring him?’

‘Yes, please. And would you mind if we took a quick look around your outbuildings?’

‘Of course, aye. You help yourselves. Just watch yourselves, mind. Ted keeps all kinds of rusty old rubbish in those byres.’

Hall was already getting up before she’d even finished speaking, and Jane followed suit.

‘There’ll be scones in a minute.’

‘They smell fantastic’ said Hall, glancing at the old cream Aga, ‘so can we pop back in afterwards? We’ll only be ten minutes.’

Hall got his big, police issue torch out of his car boot and he and Jane checked the barn next to the house. There was no sign of anyone having been sleeping there. But there was another stone byre about fifty yard from the house, just on the edge of a damson orchard, and the two set off towards it. The ground was soft after the autumn rains, and both officers regretted not changing their shoes. Hall wondered if he’d look like a total prat if he hitched his trousers up a bit, and decided that he would. He’d just have to risk it.

They were very close to the barn when they saw the side door swing open, and a small figure dash out.

‘Johnny,’ Hall and Francis shouted at the same moment, and Jane ran hard after the boy. She left Hall behind in half a dozen steps, so he stopped and called out.

‘We’re the police. Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble. We know why you ran away. Stop, Johnny, we just want to talk, that’s all.’

He didn’t stop, but he did slow down, and Jane caught up with him quite quickly.

‘It’s OK. My name is Jane, and I’m a police officer too. You’re safe now, Johnny. No one can hurt you, I promise.’

The kid looked hungry, dog-tired, and far from convinced. But then he’d probably heard promises like these before. And they certainly hadn’t been true then.

‘Will you take me home? Do I have to go home?’

‘Let’s talk about that, shall we? I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you? How about we all have something to eat?’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, right now. Before we do anything else.’

As they drove Hall called Mann, and stood the search team down. He could hear Ray Dixon shouting something in the background. Hall stopped at the cafe and farm shop on the way into Kendal, and asked Jane to take the lad inside and order food for them all. He phoned social services, spoke to someone who he knew slightly, and explained the situation. He was told to take the boy home, and that a visit would be arranged in due course. So Hall explained the situation again. ‘I’m not sure you understand. His older brother, with the tacit and possibly active support of his mum, has been attempting to coerce this boy into becoming involved in serious criminality. I believe that the boy would be at very real risk if we simply return him to his mother.’

‘I heard you the first time, DI Hall. You’ll have to do what you can, because it will be a few days at least before a home visit can be arranged, and an assessment made.’

‘So what do you suggest I do then?’

‘I really couldn’t say. But you shouldn’t expect that the boy will be taken into care. On the basis of what you’ve told me that sounds like a very unlikely outcome.’

Hall rang off, and walked into the cafe. He sat and watched, amused, as the boy ate his own breakfast and then most of his and Jane’s. And Hall had already decided exactly what he was going to do about Sally and Pete Graham.

‘We’re taking you home now’ said Hall, watching the boy in the rear-view mirror as they drove, ‘but don’t worry, we’re going to talk to your mum and brother. You’ll be there, so you can hear exactly what we say.’

‘Pete will go mental. He’ll say I grassed him up.’

‘But you didn’t, did you?’ said Jane. ‘And it was Pete himself who told us why you’d run away. So you’ve got nothing to worry about.’

‘Aye. We’ll see. But thanks for the breakfast. It was ace, was that.’

‘What were you eating all this time?’ asked Jane. ‘Stuff you took with you?’

‘Aye, but it ran out yesterday.’

‘What were you going to do next?’

‘I dunno.’

‘Go back home?’

‘Aye, probably. I’ve been thinking about it, like. I don’t want to miss school.’

‘Very sensible. Do you want to tell us about what your brother said to you?’

‘Will it get him into trouble?’

‘That depends.’

‘Then no, I don’t.’

Hall was about to intervene, in case Jane pressed the lad, but she didn’t. They both knew that they’d get nothing admissible, and in any case Hall was far from sure that it was in the lad’s best interests to grass his brother up, and it seemed that Jane agreed.

‘Would you like to get straight back to school then? Today, I mean.’

‘Aye. I need to catch up. But I’ll want a shower first, like.’

‘You certainly will. We can wait and run you round, after we’ve spoken to your brother and your mum.’

‘No, you’re all right. It’s only social studies this morning.’

Hall smiled, and drove on. His own kids seemed to take much the same view of the elements of the curriculum that hadn’t even existed when he was at school.

PC Nobby Styles, the beat bobby for the estate that the Grahams lived on, was waiting in a patrol car outside the house. Hall got out of his car, asked Jane and Johnny to hang on for a minute, and he slipped into the passenger seat alongside Nobby.