S. Bolton - Dead Scared

What on earth had I heard? A woman screaming in distress had been my first thought, but we were miles from anywhere out here. I looked back towards the house, wondering how long it would take me to sprint there, in the dark and over uneven ground.

There was something moving in the hedge. Something large, breathing heavily. I stepped back, a second from running for my life, at the same time not daring to take my eyes from what was coming at me. A creature, on four powerful legs, teeth gleaming as though they were lit from within. It bounded up to me with a speed I couldn’t hope to match. Then stopped, just a little too well mannered to spring.

‘Hello,’ I said, with a voice that didn’t sound too steady. ‘Where did you come from?’

The dog was soaking wet. It poked its long white nose towards the pockets of my borrowed oilskin. Its tail was wagging and its ears were back and it simply knew that my fingers were made to tickle the backs of its ears. When I stopped it stood upright on its hind legs, putting its front paws on my chest. It wasn’t far off my height. Could a dog, this dog, have made the noise I’d just heard? I didn’t think so.

Oh, having my face licked was a compliment I could do without.

Then I heard shouting from the field immediately on the other side of the hedge. I recognized Nick’s voice and the thin, reedy tones of silver-haired Jim. This had to be the dog from the sheep field. If so, they were hot on its trail. They’d be with us any second.

‘Come on,’ I whispered to the dog. Obedient in the way only dogs are, it followed me to my car.

‘In you get.’ It jumped inside and settled itself down on my back seat.

‘Keep your head down,’ I told it, before heading back towards the house. By the time I’d found my coat, Nick and the others were back.

‘Any luck?’ Liz asked Nick, completely ignoring Jim. He shook his head and turned to me.

‘Are we losing you?’

‘Early start,’ I lied. ‘Thanks for having me over.’

‘I’ll walk you to your car,’ he offered.

‘No, really. You should see to your guests.’

‘You are my guest.’

We were out of the door, heading across the side courtyard.

‘Have you registered with a GP yet?’ he asked me, when we were ten yards from the car and I was sure I could see eyes gleaming at me from the back seat.

‘Why, are you touting for business?’ I asked, catching the flick of a white tail. Oh, I was so busted.

‘On the contrary, I was going to ask you not to register with us,’ he said.

‘Why?’ I said, which wasn’t too bright, I grant you, but there was a white paw on each of the front seats and a long white nose was pointing right at me. Any second now …

‘Because if you’re my patient, I can’t ask you to have din—What the bugger?’

Dog and man were eyeballing each other on either side of the passenger window. Given that one had tried to shoot the other minutes earlier, the other was looking remarkably pleased to see the one.

‘Please tell me this isn’t …’ He stopped and just looked at me. I had to admit, he was cute. Joesbury’s height, but not quite so bulky. Not that I’d ever really gone for the body-builder type.

‘Well, I’d like to,’ I began. ‘I’ve just never been a particularly good liar.’ Which in itself, I suppose, was a lie. I’ve long been an excellent liar.

‘Do you know how many thousands of pounds of damage a dog can cause in a field of pregnant ewes?’ he asked me.

‘He didn’t though, did he?’ I said. ‘There wasn’t a speck of blood on him. That dog hasn’t killed anything.’

He opened his mouth, closed it, looked round, opened it again. I think he might have been the only man in the world to make such a gormless act look appealing.

‘Do you also know that I, and several other men in that house, are quite within our rights to shoot it right there in your car?’ he said.

‘You’ll have to get the keys off me first,’ I said. ‘And no, you’re not.’

He blinked and ran one hand through his hair, making it stand upright on his head. ‘Excuse me?’ he said.

‘If a dog is attacking livestock, and the only way to make it desist is to shoot it, you have a defence in law if the dog’s owner takes issue with you,’ I said. ‘You do not have any right to put down an animal without the owner’s permission. Only a judge has the authority to make that happen.’

‘What the hell are you, a lawyer?’

OK, I was on dangerous ground now. Not only was I being Lacey again, I was demonstrating knowledge that Lacey, not Laura, would have.

‘An animal lover,’ I said, which was another lie. There’s hardly been time for animals in my life. ‘Oh, look, I’m sure he didn’t kill any sheep.’

‘The entire bloody field could miscarry during the night.’

I looked down, then peered up at him again through my eyelashes. I think I even dropped my head to one side.

‘Well, aren’t you more likely to get compensation from the owner if the dog is delivered home safe and well?’ I said. ‘I’ll take it to the nearest dog shelter in the morning. I’ll also report it to the dog warden. Sorry, I’m just a bit soppy about dogs.’

‘And if it’s a stray?’

I shrugged. Pouted a bit. ‘It’ll be in the dog shelter,’ I said. ‘Can’t get up to much in there.’

He looked as though he were about to argue again and then shook his head. ‘I give up,’ he said, but he was close to smiling now. ‘If I agree to say no more about it, will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?’

Joesbury would kill me. Or might not give a toss. Either way. ‘Seems churlish to refuse,’ I said.

‘I’ll pick you up at eight,’ he said, properly smiling by this time. I waved cheerfully at Nick in the rear-view mirror as I drove away. Well, they do say to keep your enemies close.

ON THE QUEEN’S Road Joesbury found an empty parking space and opened his laptop. He connected to Scotland Yard’s central computer system and typed in a six-digit code. A few seconds later he was looking at a map of Cambridge. A red dot travelling along the A1303 told him his quarry was getting close.

He pushed the seat further back and closed his eyes for a second. He should have left for London half an hour ago. People were expecting him and God knows he was tired. He’d go, just as soon as he’d seen her.

When he opened his eyes again the red dot was very close. He could see her headlights approaching from behind. He watched, half hoping she’d see the reflection of his eyes in the mirror and stop. She didn’t. She drove on before reversing into a space just five yards or so from his. He heard the engine die, saw the headlights disappear and felt a moment’s exasperation. What the hell was she thinking of, parking this far away from the buildings? Any old low-life could be hanging round.

Joesbury smiled to himself. Any old low-life was probably exactly how she’d describe him.

The driver’s door opened and she got out. She was wearing tight jeans tucked into flat-heeled boots and a bottle green military coat. He knew, because he’d seen the receipts she’d submitted, that the coat had cost twenty-five quid in one of the bigger supermarkets. Even in daylight it wouldn’t look cheap on her. Nothing ever did.

She’d opened the rear door and was leaning inside, as though talking to someone on the back seat, and if she’d brought some half-drunk kid home for a quick shag he might just blow his cover and land the git one.

She’d got a dog.

A dog, the size and shape of a greyhound, but with the white markings on its legs, face and tail that gave away its collie parentage, had jumped from the car and was wagging its tail as if it had been reunited with its owner after years of separation. She’d fastened something round its collar to act as a lead and was bending into the car again.