Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

PRESENT DAY

T he high trill of Beth's mobile shattered the night's silence and pierced through her brain like sharp needles. Her hand fumbled around the bedside cabinet, hitting a glass of water and sending it smashing to the floor. Shit.

An incessant throb drummed across her right temple in time with the relentless ringing. The time on her phone read 1.15am. What the hell? That familiar churning in her stomach returned, and she felt nauseous.

‘DS Harper,' she mumbled into the phone, her voice croaky.

God, she'd needed that water.

‘It's Will Moulson here,' said the voice at the other end.

‘Who?' asked Beth, trying to get her fuddled brain into gear. Who was Will Moulson, and why was he calling her at one in the morning? ‘I think you have the wrong number,' she said, about to hang up.

‘Will Moulson from Longbridge, you know, the next village.'

Beth sensed the sarcasm and leaned over to switch on the lamp. As she sat up, her arm brushed the empty wine bottle. ‘It's one in the morning,' she said sleepily. ‘Is this a police matter?'

‘Oh, I'm well aware of the time,' he said sardonically. ‘As is half the bloody village. We've had that trail bike here again and–'

‘Have you phoned the station, Mr Moulson?' Beth broke in.

There was a scoff from the other end of the line. ‘Like all the other times? Where no one does anything. We're not prepared to put up with this intimidation any longer. We've got photos. Either you do something, or we'll take it into our own hands. I'm number 23 Oakfields Road.'

Beth sighed. ‘I would advise you not to do anything stupid, Mr Moulson.'

‘Perhaps you'd better do something then. I'm sorry this isn't an exciting murder case for you.'

Beth sat forward, her shoulders tensed. ‘What did you say?'

Mr Moulson had already hung up. Beth exhaled heavily, climbed from the bed, gingerly stepped over the broken glass, and walked to the kitchen. Then, after filling a glass with water and swallowing two painkillers, she phoned the station.

DC Matt Wilkins had barely answered before she said, ‘Matt, get over to Longbridge. Someone called Will Moulson just phoned me. That trail bike brat is at it again. They've got photos of the kid. Go over to Moulson before he does something stupid. He's all worked up. 23 Oakfields Road. I'll meet you there. See if you can catch the lad on the bike.'

‘What, now?' asked Matt surprised. ‘It's half past one.'

‘No kidding, Sherlock. Have you got something better to do?'

‘No, ma'am,' sighed Matt. ‘I'm on my way.'

Beth flopped into a kitchen chair and laid her throbbing head on the table. Were they ever going to let her forget the murder last year? It had been frightening for everyone, including her, but now everyone seemed to think that unless it was some gory murder they were reporting, then she wasn't interested.

Her thoughts wandered to Tom Miller and the events of a year ago, the horrific attacks and how they had changed everyone. Tom had been traumatised, and when he'd left as the station's DI three months ago, Beth felt like her heart had been broken again.

‘It's too soon,' he'd told her. ‘Please forgive me.'

She sighed heavily and decided to have an early night later. Then, with a jolt, she remembered her sister's birthday dinner that evening, which, in turn, reminded her that today would have been her wedding anniversary.

Beth cursed the trail bike kid and quickly dressed. Outside, the air was cool and fresh. The street was eerily quiet, with just the odd cry of an owl breaking the peaceful silence. She never ceased to appreciate the beauty of Stonesend village. Wands of rising branches became dancing silhouettes in the moonlight. The stone cottage windows were wide open to relieve the day's heat.

Beth drove slowly by the churchyard and forced her eyes away from the small empty cottage beside it where Tom had lived, keeping her gaze firmly on the road. It took five minutes for her to reach the village of Longbridge.

Here, the houses were different from those in Stonesend. They huddled together, sharing walls and forming a row of rooftop peaks. The front gardens were decorated with scooters, bikes, and Wellington boots. Beth parked behind Matt's panda police car and pushed open the gate of number 23, where the front garden displayed a neatly trimmed lawn and terracotta pots holding petunias.

Matt met her at the front door. ‘They're pretty worked up,' he said. ‘Can't say I blame them.'

Beth flexed her neck and wished the painkillers would kick in. ‘Any sign of the kid?'

‘No, nothing.'

Several people were standing in the Moulson's living room.

‘Mr Moulson?' she asked, looking around. A man stepped in front of her. Beth guessed him to be in his early fifties. His face was pock-marked like he'd had terrible acne when he was younger.

‘That's me,' he said, his voice cold and hard, his face twisted in anger.

Beth met his angry eyes. ‘I'm DS Harper. You called me.'

A younger, good-looking man stepped forward. ‘I'm Hale–'

‘I'll speak to Mr Moulson first if you don't mind,' said Beth firmly.

Hale glared at her before stepping back.

‘This is him,' said Will, shoving his phone with the photo into her face. The image was grainy, and the features were unclear.

‘What was the ladder for?' asked Beth

‘We were trying to stop him,' said Hale. ‘He woke up my baby. It takes long enough to get her to sleep as it is.'

‘You do realise that if you'd knocked that lad off his bike and caused him an injury, serious or otherwise, you'd be looking at a charge of grievous bodily harm?'

Moulson gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘Are you serious? That kid is tormenting everyone. Unbelievable.'

‘I'm just putting you in the picture for the future, Mr Moulson.'

‘He races through here all the time. He doesn't wear headgear, and the bike has no number plates or silencers. Surely you can take the bike off him,' said Hale.

‘I understand your frustration–' she began.

‘Do you?' Moulson broke in sharply. ‘Was he racing through Stonesend? Did he wake you up?'

‘The only person who woke me up, Mr Moulson, was you.'

‘No one from Stonesend reported it,' said Matt.

Will's hands were tightly clenched, and his shoulders rigid. Beth felt his anger seemed out of control, and for a second, it crossed her mind that he might hit her, and she stepped back slightly.

‘Can't you confiscate the bike?' asked Hale.

‘It's not as easy as that, I'm afraid,' said Beth, becoming aware of the slim, auburn-haired woman standing to her right, attempting to fade into the wallpaper.

‘Well, it bloody ought to be,' said Hale.

Beth ignored him. ‘Do you know the lad, Mr Moulson?'

‘If I did, he wouldn't still be doing it. We think he's from that dump at the end of the village, Ludbrook Grove.'

Beth saw the woman flinch at the name.

‘Did he threaten you?' Beth asked, turning to her.

Leigh shook her head. ‘Oh no, but they're a bit of a rough crowd by all accounts.'

‘We're aware of them,' said Matt.

‘So, why don't you do something?'

‘I assure you we're doing our best. Unfortunately, this isn't a very clear photograph. Until we know who the bike belongs to, there isn't much we can do. Catching them in the act isn't easy.'

Beth handed Will a card with the station's number on it. ‘Contact the station if you have any more trouble with them.'

‘You're going to do something, aren't you? Because if not, we'll take things into our own hands,' said Will determinedly. ‘If the law doesn't do something, we'll have to. Too many yobs are getting away with things.'

‘Well, I didn't ask you, Mr Moulson. The police handle matters of the law, not the public. So I wouldn't advise that. Leave these matters to those trained to deal with them. If there is any more trouble, phone us right away.'

‘You mean like when those joy riders race through the village every year when they have the car rally? I don't see you doing much about that.'

Beth sighed. ‘I know it's a problem, and we do try to catch them–'

‘Huh, try is the operative word,' said Will scathingly.

‘What will you do in the meantime?' asked Hale. ‘About this biker?'

Beth forwarded the photo to her phone. ‘We'll get some work done on this photograph and see if we can get a clearer picture of this rider. Meanwhile, we'll visit Ludbrook Grove and see if anyone there has a trail bike.' She nodded to Matt, and they headed for the front door.

‘If the police can't catch a kid on a bike, it comes to something,' said Will sarcastically.

‘Leave it with us,' she said calmly, walking from the house.

‘Wanker,' muttered Matt.

‘Probably pissed off. Let's visit Ludbrook Grove.'

Matt gave her a sideways glance and said carefully, ‘You look a bit rough.'

‘I don't do my Jennifer Aniston look at one in the morning, and you don't exactly look like Brad Pitt, yourself.'

‘Point taken.' He smiled, climbing into the panda.

‘See you there,' he said