Imposition (DI Gardener 5)

“You can have more time, Colin. Find out everything you can.”

Gardener turned to Cragg. “Has the tracker recorded any movement on his van, Maurice?”

“He’s been home all day. Never moved.”

“Has he signed in today?”

“Yes, this afternoon.”

Gardener addressed Anderson and Rawson. “Will you two go and pick him up, bring him back here? I’d like to have another long chat with him about his mysterious past.”

As both officers left the room, Gardener picked up his bottle of water and tackled the chicken wrap. He was starving, and it was going to be one hell of a night. He doubted he would make it home tonight. He suspected most of the officers were thinking the same; every one of them was on their mobiles already informing their loved ones.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Anderson and Rawson returned.

Gardener noticed they were alone. “What’s up?”

“He wasn’t there,” said Anderson.

Gardener glanced at Cragg. “Check the tracker, Maurice?”

“No need,” said Anderson. “Van’s still parked on the drive.”

“Place isn’t even locked up,” said Rawson. “The back door is open.”

“The whole scene looks just like it did on Friday night.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

Ross Johnson stared into the sullen sky. The forecast wasn’t good. Dry till dinnertime, then things would take a turn for the worse. Being late November, he couldn’t expect much else.

He and his girlfriend Freya had spent the night at Bedlam Rocks. High up on the moors, it bordered North Yorkshire and the North East. It was rough, bleak, barren, and the last place anyone would want to be so late in the year. His mates had thought him crackers.

He and Freya spent most weekends together hunting for buried treasure, so why should the time of year make any difference?

Ross stared down at the ground. He had his pickaxe and shovel ready. The metal detector had lit up like a Catherine Wheel last night, but it had been too dark to do anything about it.

Being in the middle of Hangman’s Bluff – Lord only knew who had called it that – the only choice they’d had was to bed down for the night. The bluff was one of those places that if you didn’t stumble upon it by accident, you would never find it. Approximately six meters square, it resembled a small valley. On the right side, the rock face had an opening that led into a cave, which was where they had bedded down.

“Are you going to have some breakfast before you start digging?” shouted Freya.

Ross glanced at his watch. It was seven o’clock and approaching first light. “You start breakfast, I’ll start this. I’ll break off when it’s ready.” He bent down and hefted the pickaxe, speaking to himself, “Standing around daydreaming won’t get me very far.”

The last week had seen a fair bit of rain in these parts, so the ground wasn’t so bad. It was pretty much wet peat, and slightly acidic anyway. After thirty minutes of digging using the axe and the shovel, the fruits of his labour were beginning to show. He’d dug maybe four feet down, and a couple of feet square.

He readied the axe once more as Freya shouted, “Ready when you are.”

He ignored it, took the swing, and hit pay dirt as the tip of something white showed through the soil. “Nice one.”

He took two more swings. More white appeared. He grabbed the shovel, carefully digging out some more. He peered closer in as Freya shouted again. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he thought it was worth reaching down.

As Ross leaned forward, the wet ground underneath his feet gave way. He lunged in, grabbing at the object as the dirt collapsed around it. He dug in with both hands, removing soil much like a dog would with its paws around the now visibly round object. Eventually he was able to pull it free, before he landed on his arse with an audible thud.

Freya left the small cave with two cups of tea. “Guess I’ll have to come to you, then.”

Ross ignored what she’d said. He was too busy trying to work out what he had freed from the watery grave. Once he had, he let out a piercing scream and threw it back.