Nevertheless, she was under no illusions about what such a confrontation was likely to do to her. Still, what of that? What was worse than spending the next ten years slowly being stripped of her ability to talk, to think, to even perform the most basic tasks like eating or going to the loo? Having everything shredded away to be left as nothing but an echo of herself? Better to die.
Sneaking out of the house without waking up Lizzie was a doddle, but there was no way Dennie was going to get past Viggo so easily. When she reached the kitchen he struggled up from his huge cushion by the back door and limped towards her, whining. He had suffered four cracked ribs in the fight and his torso was strapped up from shoulder to hip.
She shushed him and tipped a few biscuits into his bowl, stroking his head while he munched.
‘Sorry to do this to you, boy,’ she whispered. ‘But you’re in no shape to come with me this time. Besides, I need you to stay here and look after Lizzie for me. Can you do that?’ She was crying now, and he looked up, whined, and licked the tears off her face. ‘Yes, I know you can, because you’re a good boy, aren’t you? You’re the best boy there is.’
She unlocked the back door and eased it open. Viggo’s tail began to wag at the prospect of a surprise night-time walk, but she made him sit and stay, and the hurt in his eyes was almost too much to bear. ‘Look after my baby girl, all right?’ she told him. ‘I’ve got to go look after someone else’s.’
She eased the door closed and set off down the garden path, and even without looking back she knew that his nose was pressed against the bottom of the door to smell her for as long as he could.
* * *
That afternoon David found Mark Turner out in a wide field dotted with dozens of black plastic-wrapped cylindrical bales of silage. He was driving a tractor with a pair of five-foot-long bale spikes attached to the front like fangs, impaling each bale, lifting it, and carrying it to be deposited on a long trailer with the help of his son Darren. As David approached he shut off the engine and jumped down to say hi and shake his hand.
‘How’s the arm?’ he asked. David’s left arm was in a sling, but that was more for show. It was a bit stiff but basically fine.
‘Oh, getting there, getting there,’ he replied, and nodded at the bales on the trailer. ‘Summer been good to you?’
‘On and off. What can I do for you, Dave? Bit of a long way out to come just to talk about the weather.’
‘Yep. It’s been a strange year. Got those squatters out from next door. Still a shame about those lambs, though, hey?’
He watched Turner’s face turn crimson. ‘What the fuck do you want, David?’
‘It’s about what you want, Mark. Do you want the scumbag that did it?’ David didn’t know for certain that Matt had killed and mutilated those lambs himself, but given who he’d been living with and what they’d done, that hardly mattered.
Darren hopped down from the trailer and came over. ‘It was Matt, wasn’t it?’
‘Do you want him?’ David repeated.
‘Of course, I fucking want him,’ said Turner. ‘So do the cops, apparently. Are you telling me that you know where he is?’
‘No,’ David admitted. ‘But I know a woman who does.’
‘Well, are you going to tell me, or is there something you do want after all?’
‘That depends. How many shotguns have you got?’
Mark Turner’s eyes widened.
* * *
Dennie sat in the passenger seat of Mark Turner’s huge green Defender, with Turner himself driving. Behind her were David, and Turner’s son Darren, and following behind them was Prav in her own car. Right in the very back of the Defender were two excited farm dogs who had been introduced to her as Hob and Bella. She felt a bit guilty that they’d been brought along on this expedition when her own Viggo was with Lizzie, but if Prav knew her business there wouldn’t be any fighting and nobody would be in harm’s way. All Dennie had to do was actually find the place where Matt had holed up and Prav would call it in and they could just let the police do their thing. She wasn’t sure that involving the Turners was either necessary or a good idea; ‘Just in case,’ David had said. She couldn’t say that he was wrong, but there was something about the way the men sat in grim silence without even the usual witless banter that made her think they weren’t going to be satisfied with letting the authorities handle it. Even Prav had brought along a Taser and got hold of some stab vests. The shotguns were racked safely in the back with the dogs, but that didn’t make her feel much safer.
Prav had not been happy about the guns.
‘What exactly do you think we’re going to do?’ she’d demanded. ‘Charge in there like a SWAT team? It’s just asking for trouble!’
‘Well, I don’t know what your definition of trouble is, but kidnap and murder definitely do it for me,’ David retorted. ‘I kind of think that boat has sailed, don’t you? Besides, are you forgetting the bit where you’ve already been shot at?’
‘No, David, I am not forgetting that. And I’m not keen on it happening again. I especially
