It was over…
Jess walked slowly back into the house and found the family in tears. The whole family. Mum, Dad and six children. Even the baby was wailing, though Jess wouldn’t mind betting that he didn’t know what for.
‘I’ll arrange for someone to collect Matilda’s body in the morning,’ she said helplessly and set off a fresh paroxysm of sobs.
‘We’ll bury her here, lass,’ Ray told her through choked-back tears. ‘This is her home.’
There was nothing more for Jessie to do. Helplessly she packed her bags and beat a retreat. Ray followed her out to the car.
‘You know what’s really getting me?’ he said. ‘We didn’t keep any of her foals. The last foal she had was a little beauty. The kids begged me to keep her-but horses cost money and I said no. Now I wish…’ He rubbed a grimy hand across wet cheeks and sniffed. ‘Eh, well…’
If the other fishermen could see Ray Benn now they’d be astounded, Jess thought as she retired back into her little car. A tough male-with a marshmallow middle.
It was enough to make her want to weep herself.
The death of the mare stayed with her all the way home. The hospital was quiet. Frank had taken Harry home that morning. Niall had admitted a child with asthma but Geraldine was coping competently-and by the sound of it the child slept.
Niall and Paige must have gone back to the vineyard.
Jess fed her little animals, then sat on the floor and talked to them for a while. Bed seemed unutterably lonely.
Ten o’clock on a Friday night.
Nothing in front of her but lonely bed.
Don’t be so stupid, she told herself savagely. Nothing but bed! What else do you want, for heaven’s sake? Someone to share your bed with you? You have to be crazy.
She was definitely crazy.
Yes! her heart was screaming for all it was worth. That’s exactly what she wanted. Someone to share…
Someone?
She wanted Niall.
Jess went drearily to bed but she couldn’t sleep,
If she’d accepted Niall Mountmarche’s invitation she could be out at the vineyard right this minute, drinking coffee by the fire and watching Niall Mountmarche smile…
‘You’re a stupid, senseless twit,’ she said savagely into the night and it was as much as Jess could do not to burst into tears like the Benns.
The phone rang an hour after she turned off her lights.
Jess groped in the darkness for the phone, swore as she knocked over the lamp and had to fumble on the floor for the light switch. She finally picked up the receiver on the tenth ring.
‘Yes?’
‘Problem, Jess.’ It was the clipped voice of Sergeant Russell.
Jess sat up, her confusion fading. If Sergeant Russell said that there was a problem, there always was.
‘How can I help?’
‘I’ve a domestic out at the Simmonses’. It seems Ethel and Barry are having a go at each other-again-but it’s got a bit out of hand. They’re both injured and that damned mutt of Ethel’s-you know the Rottweiler?-won’t let anyone near her. Can you come?’
‘I’ll come. How badly are they hurt?’
‘I don’t know,’ the sergeant admitted. ‘All I know is Barry’s unconscious and I can’t get near Ethel. I’ve called Doc Mountmarche and he’s on his way. The sooner you’re both here the happier I’ll be.’
‘Give me five minutes.’
Jess dressed fast, pulling on jeans, sweater and leather shoes. She grabbed leather gloves from the wardrobe and considered.
She had a flexi-rod which usually enabled her to handle aggressive dogs-a rod with a loop at one end which, when slipped over the dog’s head, could be tightened fast, thus holding the dog at more than teeth’s reach from the handler.
Maybe…
She thought-and then packed tranquilliser and a couple of barbs. In a case like this, a tranquilliser dart might be more effective.
There was an hour to go before her two little animals were due to be fed and they were getting stronger every day. If they missed one night feed it wouldn’t kill them.
OK.
She took a deep breath, the adrenalin surging at the thought of what lay ahead. At the thought that somewhere out in the night Niall Mountmarche would be gearing up for the same emergency as Jess.
Niall Mountmarche has nothing to do with the way I’m feeling, she said to herself crossly as she made her way out to the car.
Liar.
Niall Mountmarche had everything to do with it.
He beat her to the Simmonses’.
The Simmonses lived in a ramshackle house on the edge of town. It was a dump. There was rubbish-everything from last week’s shopping bags to a couple of old car bodies-strewn around the grounds.
Mrs Simmons was a good-hearted woman who’d been walked all over by an aggressive husband in the thirty years of their marriage. Jess had seen a little of her. She kept a horse in stables at the rear of the house and many times Jess suspected that she spent the housekeeping money on her horse and her dog-not herself. The woman looked as if she was suffering from malnutrition.
Ethel had given up on keeping either herself or her home presentable.
Barry Simmons wasn’t suffering from the same malnutrition as his wife. Barry was heavily overweight, mostly brought on by too much booze. He was supposed to be a fisherman but his evil temper meant that he was now almost unemployable.
He was hardly one of Jessie’s favourite people.
So what had happened tonight?
Jess pulled up on the road outside the Simmonses’. The police car had its lights shining directly at the house and the flashing light on top of the car was still beaming iridescent blue. The ambulance was parked behind it. Niall had decided the vehicle was more use staying with him and had taken it back to the vineyard. He must have driven it here.
The house itself was in darkness, though there seemed to be a lantern of some sort glinting close to the front door. A couple of neighbours were standing well back from the house, whispering among themselves. They watched Jess from a safe distance, their stance proclaiming clearly their desire to remain uninvolved.
From the house came low, menacing growls. Ethel’s dog?
Why wasn’t the Rottweiler outside?
Where was everyone?
Jess collected her gear and picked her way cautiously through the rubbish-strewn yard-keeping a weather eye out for stray Rottweilers as she went. A huge black shadow launching itself at her throat from the darkness was hardly a great way to spend a night.
Or to end a night…
She didn’t make it to the front door. As soon as Jess passed the worst of the overgrown garden she found where the action was. To the left, against the wall of the building and behind a tangle of bushes, was Barry Simmons, Sergeant Russell-and Niall.
Barry Simmons looked dead.
Jess stared down at his unconscious form. What on earth had happened?
There was a chainsaw lying on the ground and a gaping, jagged hole sawn roughly from the wall of the house.
‘Sergeant Russell?’ Jess said tentatively and the policeman glanced up from Barry Simmons’s inert form and
