‘What about Jack?’ Harry asked, undecided as to whether to make chase or stay with the doctor. ‘Where is he? Is he okay?’
The doctor stared up at Harry, his eyes dead. ‘No,’ he said. ‘He’s … he’s dead, but whoever it was, I saw them leave! You have to get after them! There’s a back door. They left through it! You might still get to them! Go!’
Harry was on his feet. ‘You’re sure you’re okay?’
‘Yes! Go!’ the doctor hissed painfully. ‘Go!’
Harry turned to the house and sprinted. The shock of the sudden movement sent stabs of pain through his body, but he ignored them, crashed through the front door of Jack’s house and found himself in a quaint little cottage, and he took the whole place in in just a few seconds.
The room was a lounge and dining room all in one, with a low ceiling and stairs in front of him on which sat a chair lift. Around a fire burning in the hearth, a two-seater sofa and an armchair sat, as though in conversation. On the floor, Harry spotted a blood-splattered log, the weapon used on the doctor, he assumed. Considering the size of the thing, he was surprised the doctor wasn’t still inside with his head little more than a smashed coconut. And sitting in the armchair was a man with the palest skin, frail, and terribly, terribly still. Harry went to the body, checked for a pulse. Nothing. Backing away, he took in the blood that was splattered about the place, probably from where the doctor had managed to walk out of the house after being attacked, he thought. The flowery wallpaper, which had seen better days, was the backdrop to numerous family photos.
Pulling himself away from the eerily quiet scene before him, Harry raced through the room and out of a door opposite, which lead into a small kitchen. Here, pots and pans had been knocked to the floor, no doubt by the house invader as they’d made their escape, Harry surmised. A door stood open on the other side of the room and Harry was out and through it in a few steps and standing in a small, neat yard. A lean to was to his left, filled with chopped wood, for the fire, Harry guessed. A gate at the far end of the yard stood open and Harry ran through it, coughing with the exertion, ordering himself to work harder at getting into shape.
Out the back of the house, he ran along a small path with backed onto the yards of other houses. At the other end, the path spilled out onto a road and Harry stopped, partly to get his breath back, but also to listen. All he could hear, however, was the everyday sounds of the dales, living and breathing above, beneath and around him. Sheep in the distance, wind scooting between buildings and around trees, birds calling. And in all of it there was no hint of anything that would suggest someone was racing away from a crime scene. He dropped to the ground, attempting to see if there were any signs on the ground that would give him an indication of where the assailant had gone, but there was nothing, not even the faintest hint of a heel print.
Standing up, Harry looked left, looked right, decided that left felt more obvious as an escape route, and started running again, trying to put himself in the mind of the kind of person who would commit murder and then scarper. But it didn’t take long for Harry to realise that what he was doing was hopeless. Whoever it was, they were gone. Bastards . . .
Harry pulled out his phone, saw there was a missed call from Jim, but ignored it, and rang Matt once again.
‘Yes, Boss?’
‘There’s been another murder,’ Harry said. ‘Jack Iveson. And Doctor Smith has been attacked. We’re up in Marsett. I think the suspect has done a runner. What are the odds on us getting a helicopter out?’
Harry heard Matt’s laugh, but it wasn’t one brought to life by humour.
‘Non-existent,’ Matt said. ‘There is one, but it’s based miles away. Wouldn’t get to you quick enough. I’ll get Gordy, just a mo.’
Gordy jumped on the line.
‘Grimm?’
Harry quickly explained everything to the DI.
‘Right, I’ll call it in,’ Gordy said. ‘I’ll see if we can get a dog handler out as well, might get a scent on something. Worth a try. You alright?’
‘I’m fine, yes,’ Harry said. ‘The doctor’s in a bit of a poor way, though. I’d best go check on him. Oh, and we need to know where Nick Ellis, Simon Swales, and Ian Smith are right now!’
‘Oh, well that’s easy,’ Gordy said. ‘They’re here. With us. And they’ve all been very helpful so far. Even nice Mr Ellis. Liz is here, too.’
‘What?’ Harry said. ‘They’re there? All of them?’
‘Well, I’d know if they weren’t,’ Gordy said.
Harry rubbed his head, more than a little confused. If it wasn’t any of the remaining three from Capstick’s gang, then who was it? What the hell was going on?
‘They need a police presence with them at all times,’ Harry said. ‘I don’t care what you have to do, but you get uniform over and have them watching over the three of them. I don’t want anyone or anything getting near them without our knowing, you hear?’
‘Already on it,’ Gordy said, and Harry hung up.
Making his way back down the road, along the alleyway and through the house, Harry paused briefly to look at the dead man in the armchair. There was no point going in for a closer look. It was obvious that he was gone. The how of it, well that was best left to the cheerful
