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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781780101934 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Severn House Publishers |
| Publication date: | 11/01/2011 |
| Series: | A Daniel Whelan Mystery , #1 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 224 |
| File size: | 1 MB |
Read an Excerpt
No Going Back
By Lyndon Stacey
Severn House Publishers Limited
Copyright © 2010 Lyndon StaceyAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-84751-219-2
CHAPTER 1
'Trucker's Dog Saves Toddler,' the headline halfway down the front page of the Western Post declared.
The paper was nearly a week old, saved for Daniel by the owner of the roadside burger van where he'd bought his breakfast. He was parked not 20 yards from it now, in a lorry park on the side of the A386 between Tavistock and Okehampton. It was a designated picnic spot, but at this hour of the morning, there were more trucks than cars.
Pulling a wry face and shaking his head, Daniel Whelan took a sip of his latte-to-go and read on, his booted feet propped up on the dashboard of the lorry.
When farmer Peter Daley (58) and his wife, Sally (56), discovered that granddaughter Emily had been missing on their 135-acre farm near Launceston for over an hour last Saturday morning, they feared the worst. Peter and Sally aren't normally overanxious grandparents, but in this case they could be forgiven, because four-year-old Emily, who was staying with them for the weekend, is profoundly deaf.
'I thought she was with Peter and he thought she was with me,' Sally explained. 'We were especially worried because there were tractors working in the fields and the men might not have noticed such a small child. We were at our wits' end, not knowing where to look first, and of course it was no good shouting, because she couldn't hear us.'
Things might have looked very black indeed for little Emily if fate hadn't intervened in the shape of delivery driver Daniel Whelan and his ex-police dog, Taz.
When truck driver Daniel (28), who was delivering animal feed to the farm, heard what had happened, he offered the services of his German shepherd dog to locate the little girl. Taz had served 18 months with Bristol Police Dog Unit before being injured in the line of duty and retired last year. As a police dog, tracking was part of his work, although in those days it would have been runaway criminals that he trailed rather than lost children.
Shown a cardigan belonging to little Emily to give him the scent, Taz soon demonstrated that he had forgotten none of his skills, finding the lost child within ten minutes, playing in a hay barn just feet away from a herd of cows.
'Thank goodness the dog found her when it did,' Sally Daley said, still clearly shaken by the memory. 'Cows are generally placid, but they can be unpredictable – I dread to think what might have happened if she had wandered in among them.'
Daniel, who works as a driver for Tavistock Farm Supplies, preferred not to be interviewed, saying that all the credit belonged to three-year-old Taz, who travels everywhere with him in the lorry.
All's well that ends well on the Daleys' farm. Thanks to Taz, Emily is none the worse for her adventure – in fact, she has gained a new friend, 42-kilo Taz, proving that while he might have been tough on criminals, he is just a gentle giant at heart with a soft spot for little girls.
Daniel had to smile at the last line. The article was illustrated by a picture of Taz sitting dutifully with the child's arms wrapped round the thick fur of his neck, but to Daniel, who knew him better than anyone, the expression on the dog's face was one of slightly pained resignation rather than pleasure.
He held up the paper, turning to where Taz sat at the other end of the bench seat.
'Look, Taz, you're famous.'
The German shepherd thumped his tail on the seat a time or two and edged nearer, but his attention was firmly fixed on the dashboard, where a paper bag sat, containing a bacon and egg roll.
'If you're gonna start drooling, you can sit outside!' Daniel warned severely, but the dog wasn't fooled. He moved even closer, his gaze never wavering, knowing from experience that the last bite of bread and bacon would be his.
Moments later, the butty was forgotten as Taz threw himself at the passenger window of the cab, barking furiously. A sharp word from Daniel calmed him a little, but he remained on edge, growling ominously and hackles up, while he watched a small black Staffordshire bull terrier trot jauntily in front of the lorry and away at the heels of his cab driver owner.
'What? That scutty little thing?' Daniel teased. 'You'd make mincemeat of him. Here, have a bit of bacon.'
The German shepherd accepted the morsel, licked his lips and grumbled some more. He'd had a bad experience with a Staffie when he was just a pup and it would require more than a tasty bribe to take his mind off this one.
It was a cold, wet day and it was with a sigh of relief that Daniel climbed back into his cab after the last delivery that afternoon and prepared to head for home. He had finished early and with any luck would miss the worst of the Friday traffic.
Not that thoughts of home were particularly enticing just at that moment in his life: with a limited budget and the necessity of finding somewhere that he could park the lorry from time to time, the only accommodation he'd been able to find had been a one-bedroom flat above an empty shop in a lane off the Tavistock to Launceston road. The unoccupied downstairs space had most recently been a lawnmower showroom and still had the oil stains and stink of petrol to prove it. However, the property had scored on three important points: the rent was cheap; it had a good-sized car park at the back; and it was sufficiently removed from the nearest village to avoid upsetting anyone when he started the lorry's V12 engine at the crack of dawn.
The light was poor under an overcast sky, and the windscreen wipers swished monotonously to and fro, barely clearing the fine drizzle before it obscured the glass once again, making the headlights of oncoming vehicles star and spread.
All in all it was a dreary afternoon and there was nothing to stop Daniel's mind dwelling on the depressing turn his life had taken. Just three short months ago, he had had what he thought was a stable home life with a wife and eight-year-old son, a career in the police force and a circle of friends. Now, entirely as a result of his own actions, he had none of these and the realization was still raw every time it hit him.
The fact that it could be regarded as questionable whether friends and colleagues who had shown themselves to be so fickle were worth mourning gave him no comfort at all. There had been many times lately when he'd wondered if, given that period of his life over again, he would make the same choices, and he found he just didn't know.
Daniel rubbed his eyes tiredly. Such reflections were pointless. The decisions had been made and he had to live with the consequences. End of story. He switched on the radio, reaching across to ruffle Taz's soft coat. Lately the dog had become the only constant in his life.
Taz rewarded his caress with a flattening of his ears. Daniel suspected that he, at least, was very content with their altered circumstances. Amanda hadn't allowed the dog in the house, complaining that his constantly shedding coat made work for her, so for the first part of his life Taz had mostly lived in a kennel and run in the back garden. It wasn't so bad when the dog was working, but after he'd been forced to retire, Daniel had hated leaving him shut in while he was on shift. Now, the dog had his company twenty-four hours a day and a daily walk on the moor.
A sudden burst of the James Bond theme tune interrupted his thoughts, bringing with it a sharp pang of regret: his son, Drew, had downloaded the ringtone to his mobile one day without him knowing, and now he couldn't bring himself to change it. The display showed that the caller was Fred Bowden, his boss at TFS. Hoping it wasn't extra work for the evening, Daniel thumbed the 'call answer' button.
'Hi, Fred. I'll ring you back in five – I'm driving.' In his policing days, Daniel had had to deal with the horrific consequences of distracted drivers too often to take a chance, even if it hadn't been illegal. Finding a place to pull in, he killed the engine and keyed in the number.
'Hi. What's up?'
'Daniel, I've had a call from some bloke who wants to talk to you. Apparently, his daughters went for a walk on the moor and haven't come back, and he wants to know if you and Taz will help look for them. Saw the bit in the paper, obviously ...'
'But surely he should call Search and Rescue.'
'Well, that's what I said. Anyway, will you talk to him? Can I give him your number?'
'Er ... yeah, OK, I guess so,' Daniel said reluctantly. Even though he'd been rueing the prospect of the evening ahead, the idea of being sent out of his way to pander to a hysterical parent whose kids would in all probability turn up without his help wasn't one he particularly relished either.
He disconnected, and a minute or two later, his phone sounded again.
'Is that Mr Whelan?'
'That's right,' Daniel agreed. 'Who am I speaking to?'
'John. John Reynolds.' The man sounded a little out of breath, as if he were walking.
'How can I help you, Mr Reynolds?'
'It's my daughters – they went walking on the moor and they haven't come back. I've looked for them, but it's hopeless. I've no idea which way they went. I read about your dog in the paper the other day – please, you must help me!' Reynolds spoke English very precisely, but as he became more agitated, Daniel could hear just the hint of a foreign lilt.
'Look, obviously I'd be very willing to help you, but I really think you should contact the police. They'll get on to Dartmoor Search and Rescue – it's their job, after all.'
'Yes, I tried them, but they say it's too soon and we should wait and see if they come back. But I'm really worried, Mr Whelan. It'll be getting dark soon, and it's cold and wet, and Elena's not very strong ...'
'How long have they been gone?' Daniel was surprised at the attitude of the police. He'd not lived in the area for long but was already well aware of the respect the locals rightly accorded the moor, especially in winter.
'About forty minutes. But we're here on holiday, so they don't know the area at all, and they're not dressed for the weather. Look ...' Reynolds hesitated '... the truth is, Mr Whelan, we had a bit of a row. Katya, the older one, is a moody girl – you know, typical teenager – and I'm afraid she might have run away to teach me a lesson. Her sister would follow her anywhere.'
Now they were indeed getting to the truth of it, Daniel thought.
'How old are they?'
'Katya's fifteen and her sister's twelve. Please, Mr Whelan, you've got to help me. They're all I've got.'
They're all I've got. The words stabbed through the defensive layers he'd so carefully gathered around him, bringing the past back with a jolt that made him physically wince. Please. She's all I've got ... A plea uttered by a woman at breaking point. Daniel could still clearly see the sad shake of the doctor's head as he murmured, 'I'm sorry – there was nothing we could do.'
'Mr Whelan? Are you there?'
Daniel dragged his thoughts back to the present.
'Yes, I'm here.'
'Do you have any children?'
'Yes, a son.' He looked out of the window at the blowing mist of rain and imagined Drew wandering on the moor, lost and afraid. He sighed, reluctantly coming to a decision. 'OK, Mr Reynolds. Tell me exactly where you are and I'll get there as soon as I can. I'll need something belonging to the girls for the dog to scent.'
'Yes, yes, of course. I have a glove of Elena's. Thank you so much.'
'Well, I can't make any promises. What the dog can do depends on a lot of things – including the conditions, and if this rain gets any heavier, they are going to be far from ideal. I strongly advise you to try the police again.'
'I will, I will. But you will come, yes? It's a car park on the Princetown road.' Reynolds gave Daniel detailed directions and thanked him again profusely.
It was nearly twenty minutes later when Daniel drove into the moorland car park of Stack Bridge, and the visibility had deteriorated further. The parking area was situated in a hollow with high rocky sides, a stunted hawthorn the only tree in sight. The delivery truck took up nearly a third of the available space.
'Mr Reynolds? Any luck with Search and Rescue?' Daniel asked as he jumped down from the cab and was met by a slim, dark-haired man in jeans and a tailored black leather coat. Another, taller man stood by a massive black 4x4 that was parked a few feet away.
'I think they've got another emergency, over Bovey way.' Reynolds's accent was more pronounced in person and Daniel placed it somewhere in Eastern Europe. He was talking about Bovey Tracey, on the other side of the moor, and pronounced the word 'Buvvy', as the locals did. 'They say they'll come when they've finished, if we haven't found her, but who knows when that will be?'
'But ... surely there's more than one team?'
Reynolds shrugged. 'I don't know. I'm just telling you what they said.'
'OK. Well, we'll give it a go with the dog.'
Daniel reached back into the cab for his coat and a fluorescent tabard. After the warmth of the lorry, the drizzle-laden wind felt bitter and he wasn't dressed for hiking. Any added protection would be welcome. Pity the youngsters out on the moor with no waterproofs.
From a compartment under the dashboard he took a small LED torch and a large-scale walker's map of the area, both of which he stuffed in an inside pocket. He would have liked a couple of blankets, a flask of hot tea and a backpack to stow them in, but it couldn't be helped.
'Come on, Taz. Work, boy,' he told the German shepherd, who responded by jumping out of the cab with a whining bark of pure delight.
Reynolds took a step backwards, eyeing the dog a little warily. Daniel took no notice – Taz was a particularly big shepherd and he was used to that kind of reaction.
'It said in the paper that he's an ex-police dog.'
'Yeah, a friend of mine's a copper,' Daniel replied. 'The dog was injured and had to retire. I took him on.' Both statements were true, even if the whole was a little misleading. His years with the police had left him habitually close with information, and his reasons for leaving the service were something he certainly had no intention of sharing with a total stranger.
'Your wife isn't here?' he asked in his turn as he took a long tracking lead and a padded black webbing harness from a holdall behind the seat. The harness was trimmed with fluorescent strips, which shone brightly in the light of the cab. Since the episode with the deaf child, Daniel had taken to carrying it with him, just in case.
'No. The girls' mother and I have separated, but my brother is here.' Reynolds waved a hand to indicate the other man and continued, 'I'm afraid he won't come any closer. He was badly bitten by an Alsatian once.'
'Fair enough.' Daniel gave the man a brief nod before turning back to Reynolds. 'So, whereabouts are you from?'
'Bristol.'
'Do the girls normally live with you?'
'No. With their mother.'
Reynolds's reply was terse and Daniel reined in his curiosity; after all, he was no longer a policeman and it was no business of his.
Eager to work, Taz pushed his head through the harness when Daniel held it out, and it only took a moment to clip it on.
As he straightened up, he glanced around. 'It's quite a remote spot. What brought you out here?' He directed his question at the second man, but it was Reynolds who answered.
'We came for a walk and a picnic. There was a bit of a disagreement, something quite trivial – you know what kids are – but Katya stormed off, taking Elena with her. I thought they'd be back when they'd cooled down, but when they didn't come, I started to get worried ...'
'What about a mobile phone?'
Reynolds shook his head. 'They haven't got one.'
Daniel was surprised. A teenager without a phone was a rarity these days, especially as the 4x4 signified that money probably wasn't an issue.
'Oh well, it can't be helped. Mobile coverage on the moor can be a bit hit and miss, anyway. In a steep-sided gully or on the wrong side of a tor, there's no signal at all. Look, could they possibly have found their way home – to where you're staying, I mean? Where is that?'
'A caravan park. Er ... The Pines.' Reynolds waved his hand vaguely. 'No, it's miles away, and anyway, they set off in the wrong direction.'
'You said on the phone that one of them isn't strong? In what way? Is she ill?'
'Elena has asthma.'
'And you told the police that?' Daniel probed, still more mystified about their apparent indifference.
'No ... Yes, I think so ... I can't exactly remember. I got rather angry,' Reynolds admitted.
Daniel zipped his leather jacket up to the neck and fastened the Velcro tabs of the high-visibility waistcoat. 'Well, we'll make a start, but I suggest you get back on the phone and explain your daughter's condition. I'd be very surprised if it didn't make a difference. Besides, it must be over an hour now. OK, where's the glove you said you had?'
'My brother has it.' Reynolds turned and beckoned to the other man, who came forward cautiously, holding out a red mitten. He didn't take his eyes off Taz for a moment. Perhaps responding to his fear, the dog growled deep in his throat, but quieted when Daniel put a hand on his head.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from No Going Back by Lyndon Stacey. Copyright © 2010 Lyndon Stacey. Excerpted by permission of Severn House Publishers Limited.
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