Blood Lost Page 3

  “Do you know where Michael is?”

  He frowned. “No. I’ve no idea. I really need his help on an urgent project for a client. His disappearing act is holding us back, at the moment.”

  “You call it a disappearing act. Do you think he’s done this on purpose?”

  “Well, no. I’m not saying that, exactly. I don’t understand what has happened.”

  “Are your financial records in order?”

  “They are, yes. We have accounting software and an accountant that take care of our records.”

  “We may need access to them.”

  “Give me a few days' notice when you do.”

  Yvonne rose to leave. “Thank you for your time, Clive. Please let us know immediately if you hear anything from Michael.”

  Clive nodded. “I will. I’ll call you straight away.”

  ❖

  Two months earlier.

  “All right, mate?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah. Got any green?”

  “Got something stronger, you want it?”

  “Nah, not today. Just the green, mate.”

  “Sound. Got someone I want you to meet. They’re cool. They might have a job for you.”

  “What sort of job?” Will Harries narrowed his eyes.

  “Nothing complicated. Just a chance to earn decent money.”

  “I’m not doing anything dodgy.”

  “It’s cool. They’re cool. You coming?”

  Will tightened the drawstrings on his hoodie. The muscles in his back ached from the battering a bone-chilling wind had given them. He put his hands together in the front pocket of his top, hunching his shoulders, head down against the squall. “I can’t be long, mate.”

  His hooded companion kicked at the kerb. “It won’t take long, Will. We’re going for a ride.”

  “Where?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  A shuttle bus rounded the corner.

  Will turned his face away. “I’ve got an appointment.” He chewed his fingernails.

  “You going to see that shrink again? You don’t need that, man. You need something stronger.”

  “I've got no money.” Will grimaced.

  The lad reached out his white, spiny hand, scrawled with home-made tattoos. A festering sore, like a volcanic plug, protruded from the back. “You’ll like these dudes, bruv. They can help you out... If you know what I mean?”

  Will looked at his gaunt friend, pressing his lower lip with the back of his thumb. “I've got an hour. I can't let my mum down.”

  “Yeah, mate. No problem.”

  The shuttle bus stopped for them. As Will ambled towards it, his companion pulled him back.

  “Not on that, mate. We’re going in this.” He waved to a silver car approaching from the distance.

  As it neared, Will could tell it was a Mercedes. He narrowed his eyes at his companion.

  “It’s all right, mate. It’s good.”

  Beats boomed from the car’s interior, the near window, open half-way. Three lads occupied it. The one in the front passenger seat, dressed in black, wore a thick gold chain around his neck.

  The driver, also in black, leaned over the passenger, his left cheek bore a scar from his nose to his ear. “You getting in? Or, you going to stand around like lemons?” The words were almost friendly, his accent, thick Birmingham, but there was an edge to the delivery. Will’s stomach muscles tightened. He had the urge to run.

  “Come on.” His gaunt companion tugged on his arm and before he knew it they had joined the third male in the back seat. Between them, an open briefcase held wads of cash, bundled in red bands.

  Will stared at it.

  “You ever seen that much money, bro?” The back passenger asked. His shoulder-length dreads lengthened his face, he looked leaner than the scarred man in front.

  Will shook his head.

  The passenger laughed, but his eyes were hard. “That’s nothing, bruv. We make this every day.”

  The car set off at speed. Will ran his hand around the cream interior. The car wasn’t new, but it was clean and polished and it smelled good.

  He shifted in his seat. “Where are we going?”

  “For a ride, bruv. See the countryside from a fancy motor.”

  The driver passed back a spliff. “Have some of this.”

  Will took a long drag. He liked the beats coming from the surround sound. He closed his eyes, taking one more drag before his friend took it from him.

  They pulled into a lay-by; the car left at an angle. The gang jumped out, but Will hung back. He was in a good place.

  “Will. Will, out you come.” His friend grabbed him by the arm, waking him from his stupor.

  The squally rain had stopped. He straightened up and headed for the fence, gazing at the water of the dam, and beauty of the purples, greys and greens of the hills in the distance. He knew the place from his childhood. His mum and dad used to drive him and his brother out here, the Elan Valley. The water rippled where the wind pushed and tugged at it. He stared, lost.

  “Wake up, bro.” Scarface pushed him on the shoulder.

  Will climbed onto the picnic bench where he had sat with his family and continued gazing across the dam.

  The drug was wearing off. “Got another spliff?”

  Scarface climbed up next to him. “We do, yeah. Want one?”

  “I have got no money.”

  His would-be supplier held up a sandwich bag, half-filled with cannabis.

  Will stared at it. “Can’t afford that.”

  The other pursed his lips. “You could have this for free.”

  “What?” Will pulled back, eyes narrowed.

  Scarface produced a sheet of paper from his pockets with tearable strips, each written with the same mobile phone number. “Give these out to at least ten of your friends. They call us, we call you.”

  “No, I can't.” Will shook his head.

  Scarface placed the paper back in his pocket. “Shame, bruv. You see what we got? That could be you. A few months down the line. More cash than you can spend. You could buy your mum something. You could have the cars and the threads, but…” He handed the sandwich bag off to the man who’d been his front passenger.

  “No, wait…” Will bit his lower lip. “Is that all I have to do? Give out your number?”

  “Yeah, to start with. Then we call you to deliver.” He nodded to the man with dreadlocks. “Dreads will visit once a week. Drop off the bounty. You deliver where and when we tell you.”

  Will frowned.

  “We got other stuff. You do what we say, you get money and the drug of your choice. That’s a helluva deal, right there, bruv.”

  “I don’t know. What if I get caught? What if I lose it?”

  Dreads opened the car boot and pulled out a machete. He brought it over, passing it to his scarred friend.

  “That’s not advisable.” Scarface put the blade to Will’s neck, his gravelly voice underlined the threat. “You lose our money, or our stash, you get disappeared and it wouldn’t be pretty.”

  Will swallowed hard, feeling the blade, tight to his flesh. “I can’t help you… I don’t deal.” His heart banged his ribs, eyes bulging in their sockets. He looked from one to the other and at his gaunt friend, “Ash?”

  Ash shrugged his shoulders, scuffing his shoe against the curb.

  “You owe us for the spliff.” Scarface leaned closer.

  “What?” Will held his hands up. He could feel the man’s hot breath on his face. He wanted to run, but his feet stayed where they were.

  “What’s it to be?”

  “Come on, Will? What’s the issue?” Ash held out his ulcerated hand, his face screwed up as though he had a lot riding on Will’s decision. “It’s a win, win, right?”

  “That wasn’t so bad was it?” Ash walked at pace. Will followed, still shaking.

  The gang had dumped them out of town. Will, having missed his appointment with mental health, put his hands t
o his head. “They’ll stop my meds.”

  Ash shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. We’ll be able to get whatever you want.”

  They walked on until they reached the bus stop near the college roundabout. As he rode the bus to town, Will pondered what Scarface had asked him to do. As he left the bus, he tossed the paper with the phone numbers into the bin.

  ❖

  Nine months earlier.

  Kate Harries peeled off her raincoat, shook her umbrella out, and placed it in the metal container, just inside the door of Carter and Sons' estate agents. Next, peeling the slide out of the back of her hair, she retrieved her briefcase from the floor and headed to her desk.

  “Good morning, Kate.” Griff Carter called as he balanced the phone receiver between his shoulder and his chin.

  She gave him a wave, trying not to stare at his middle-age spread and the stretched material between the buttons on his waistcoat. She nodded to John Stokes, Griff’s junior and slimmer partner. “Sorry, I’m late.” She grimaced. “Traffic was crazy this morning.”

  “No worries.” John grinned. “I only just got here myself.”

  “What’s this? What have you two been up to?”

  On her desk lay two bouquets, one of white lilies and the other, red roses.

  John shrugged. “Don’t look at us. There are cards, too.”

  Kate lifted the flowers. Underneath were three red envelopes, each addressed to her, with a heart drawn in biro on the back.

  She frowned. “I don't know who sent these.”

  “Well, go on open them.” Griff came around to the front of his desk and sat on the edge, arms folded.

  Kate opened them one-by-one. They contained Valentines messages, and asked whether the sender might have a drink with her, one of them explained that he could not choose between the cards and had therefore purchased all three. The sender had signed them with a question mark.

  She pulled her tongue out at them. “Funny. You two are hilarious.”

  “Honestly, Kate. We don’t know who sent them. The flowers were outside the door when I arrived this morning.” Griff shrugged his shoulders. “Someone had put the cards through the letter box. We seriously do not know who mailed them to you.”

  “Oh, maybe it was Michael.” She frowned. “Aren’t white lilies associated with funerals?”

  “Sometimes, I guess.” Griff grabbed the bouquets. “Do you want me to put them in water?”

  "Er, No. If we don’t know who sent them, I’d rather we put them in the bin."

  “What if it’s a grateful client?” John raised his eyebrows.

  “I’d still like to throw them in the bin. Two bunches of flowers and three cards? That’s plain weird.”

  Griff shrugged. “Perhaps, you’re right.” He dropped the flowers he was holding into the wastepaper basket. “Shall we sort out which of us are doing this morning’s visits?”

  Kate nodded. “I’d like to stay in town today, if that’s okay. I have to pop to an appointment with Will at lunchtime and we can’t be late for it. Is that all right?” She looked from one to the other of her colleagues.

  Griff shrugged. “Fine by me.”

  “Sure.” John agreed.

  Kate gave them a wide smile. “Thank you. I couldn’t wish to have nicer colleagues.”

  6

  Insights

  They parked the car on Plantation Lane and her DS aided Yvonne to the kerb. The Children’s Mental Health Service stood a hundred yards further on.

  “I’ll be okay from here. Thank you, Dewi.” The DI waved him away.

  “All right, Mrs independent knickers, have it your own way.” He grinned as he handed her the cane.

  A young man greeted her in the well-lit reception room. Dressed in an open-necked shirt and jeans, he pushed his spectacles back up his nose. “Patrick Jones.” He held out his hand, giving her a warm handshake. “I’m Will Harries’s community psychiatric nurse.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” She smiled. “I’m-”

  “DI Giles.”

  “I’ve been waiting you.”

  "Yes, sorry." She grimaced. "They waylaid us at the station."

  “No problem. Dr. Baylis isn’t back yet, I’m sorry. He had an urgent appointment this morning, but said he’d be back as soon as he could. Shall we go in here while we’re waiting? I can answer your questions. I can’t believe what’s happened. The whole family going missing like that…”

  Yvonne followed him into a side-room. “We're concerned for them and the eldest son, Max is beside himself. We also believe someone injured Michael Harries, which makes the family even more urgent.”

  “Again, I’m sorry Ryan Bayliss isn’t back.”

  Yvonne cleared her throat. “You might have what I need, Patrick. I’m guessing, you’re the one who has spent the most time with Will.”

  Patrick nodded. “That’s true, I am. Do you think he had something to do what happened?” He pulled out a chair.

  Yvonne lowered herself onto it. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. We’re working in the dark, at the moment. Any insight we can gain into their lives would be helpful. Is he capable of harming his family?”

  Patrick pursed his lips. “I’d like to say no, but there are niggling doubts in my mind.”

  “Has he ever harmed them before?”

  Patrick shook his head. “No, never. I know he’s had arguments with them. He’s stormed out of the house once or twice. But, hurt them? No. Will's a soft lad underneath it all. There were incidents at school, but they happened after a lot of taunting and bullying.”

  "I understand he jabbed someone with a pencil?"

  "He did. That was when we got involved. He wasn't on medication and other children provoked him. They didn't understand his poor mental health."

  "Did he ever talk about harming his family or wishing them ill?"

  “No. I can’t speak for my colleagues, but I would have thought if he had mentioned anything to any of them, they’d have brought it up it in one of our meetings.”

  “I see.”

  Patrick ran a hand through his hair, puffing out his cheeks. “I referred him to the Crisis Resolution Team on two occasions last year.”

  “Why was that?” Yvonne readied her pen on her notepad.

  “Will experimented with drugs like heroin and crack-cocaine. He had fragile mental health and was easily manipulable. Dealers prey on kids like that.”

  “Did the drug use put him in crisis?”

  “He had two psychotic episodes. During one, they found him shouting on the side of Longbridge, about to throw himself in the river. He thought he was being hunted by AI robots.”

  “Was he sectioned?”

  “He was. His friends and family had noticed him going downhill over the previous weeks. He responded well to therapy, however.”

  “What was the therapy? Keeping him off the hard drugs?”

  “Yes, amongst other things. We increased his medication, and he attended counselling and vocational learning. He made a marked improvement.”

  “Given what you know about Will, do you think him capable of hurting his mum and dad?”

  “I don’t see him hurting them, but I cannot rule it out. In a psychotic episode, he's capable of harming himself and others. However, as far as I am aware, he hasn’t used class A drugs in a year, and his cannabis use has been at a minimum. So, unless something changed…”

  Yvonne nodded. “Would you like us to call you when we find him?”

  “Yes, if you would? We can assist you if he’s in crisis. If arrested, he’ll need an appropriate adult.”

  “I understand, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Inspector Giles.”

  Yvonne’s next stop was at the premises of Drugs and Alcohol Counselling, in Severn Square in Newtown, next to the canal. Responsible for helping those with addiction, it was a busy centre with a sizeable caseload.

  Sam Williams, Will’s drug counsellor, met the DI and her DS at the door.

&nb
sp; “Thank you for seeing us at such short notice.” Yvonne shook Sam’s offered hand.

  “Anything I can do to help, Inspector. Will had a session booked this morning. Even though I knew it was unlikely, I hoped he would turn up.” He led her through a door to her right and up a flight of stairs. “We can use one of the treatment rooms, as long as this doesn’t take long?” He screwed his face up. “Sorry.”

  “Hey, it’s no problem, we’re all busy.”

  He led them into a room with a table, flanked by two chairs. Opposite her, along the wall, was a bed with a screen. Yvonne took a seat at the table. Dewi leaned against the bed.

  She took out her notebook. “Was his behaviour different, recently? Did he do anything out of character?”

  Sam shook his head. “I’ve gone over and over it in my mind and… nothing springs to mind. I’d have said he seemed better. More stable. He was maturing, too, mulling over possible apprenticeships. He’d been going through brochures for Coleg Powys and had highlighted several courses that interested him, for when he left school. I don’t believe Will responsible for whatever happened to the family.”

  “What if he’d returned to experimenting with hard drugs, would that alter your opinion?”

  Sam narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to one side. “We had no indications he’d returned to hard drugs. He had to have urine tests to receive his medication. He hadn’t tested for about three weeks before going missing, but he was only positive for cannabis.”

  “So, there was a three-week window?”

  “Well, yes, there was… And people relapse. It's all part of the process.” Sam rubbed his chin.

  “Had he ever expressed a desire to harm his family?”

  “Not to us. He’d been angry occasionally, but I’ve never heard him mention hurting them or wanting to hurt them.”

  “Does he get on with his brother?”

  “Max? I think they get on fine. I don’t recall him being angry with Max. Quite the opposite. He appears to hold his older brother in high regard. He wants to follow in his brother’s footsteps. Max can do no wrong. Will lacks self-confidence, but I’m he loves his brother. I'm sure of that. And he loves his mum and dad.”