Restless Dead (Harry Grimm Book 5), David Gatward [best books to read non fiction TXT] 📗

what he had been on with this last while, sorting out another deal or whatever, not that he ever told her the details, but that was for the best, because it was really rather dull.

She saw another barn, just wallowing in decrepitude, and in it, she saw the seed of what had sent her away from the dales in the first place all those years ago. It was the lack of vision that the people had, at least that’s how she saw it. They were all just so damned happy to simply stay where they were, instead of heading out into the world, to venture beyond the invisible boundaries they seemed to think existed around the dales. She’d never understood it. Never would. Or why her younger sister liked it.

‘When was it you moved here?’ Dan asked, as the road cut its way along a valley bottom, their progress observed only by the occasional field of sheep. ‘I can’t quite remember.’

‘I was thirteen,’ Patricia said. ‘Dad was still in the army, but he wanted to have some roots, so he bought the house with various investments and whatnot.’

‘He was still away, then?’

‘He managed to secure a permanent placement over in Catterick, a training position, I think it was,’ Patricia said.

‘Well, that must have been nice,’ said Dan. ‘After all that moving around.’

‘I guess,’ said Patricia. ‘For him and Mum, anyway. And Ruth.’

‘Not you, then?’

Patricia shook her head. ‘It’s hard to make friends at thirteen,’ she said. ‘I never really settled. Couldn’t wait to leave. And I was never really as close to our parents as Ruth, you know how it is.’

‘Is that why you don’t come back that often, then?’

‘I’m busy, you know that,’ Patricia said.

‘Indeed, I do,’ said Dan, then pointed ahead. ‘Looks like we’re here, then. How’s that warming up coming along?’

‘Ha ha,’ Patricia said as Dan slowed down then pulled left off the road and rolled them up the track to the rear of the house.

They passed the smaller house first.

‘How long has Ruth lived here now?’ Dan asked, eventually bringing the car to a stop.

‘Too long if you ask me,’ Patricia said. ‘Why on earth she doesn’t want to get away from the place, I’ll never understand.’

‘Perhaps she likes it,’ Dan suggested.

‘Yes, I’m sure that she does,’ Patricia replied, unclipping her seatbelt. ‘The low rent and beautiful surroundings must be difficult things to consider leaving behind. Always in Daddy’s good books, the favourite.’

‘That’s not so fair now, is it?’ Dan said, opening his door. ‘The divorce was rough, regardless of how many years ago it was, and she’s basically brought Anthony up on her own. And I’m pretty sure that she pays a fair rent to your dad.’

‘Oh, you’re pretty sure, are you?’ Patricia said. ‘And what are you basing that presumption on?’

Dan was out of the car now and swept the door closed behind him. Patricia did the same, though she heaved the door shut with considerably more force. Then a voice caught her attention and there, walking towards her, she saw Ruth.

‘Dear God, what is she wearing,’ Patricia muttered to herself, but she saw that Dan had heard by the look he shot her way.

‘Ruth,’ Patricia said, breaking away from the stare her husband was giving her, with a disarmingly bright smile. ‘How are you? How’s Dad?’

Then Ruth burst into tears and fell into her arms and Patricia, despite everything Dan and she had talked about on the journey over, immediately wished that she was anywhere else but here. But home was where she had to be, for now.

Chapter Seven

‘So, sheep rustling is actually a thing, then?’

Ben’s question sat in front of Harry as he reached over to take a good helping of the tomato pasta he’d made for dinner. It was now a couple of days since he had been out on Jim’s farm and forensics hadn’t turned up much of use other than to confirm that yes, indeed, sheep had been stollen, most likely by a well-organised gang, the members of which parked up on the road below the farm, drove up through the fields, did the deed, then shoved off before anyone was the wiser. If the sheep were, as he suspected, intended for the meat black market, then he just couldn’t see that there was much that could be done to recover them. It was not an outcome that he was happy with at all. And he knew that the impact on Jim’s parents would be dramatic. Jim himself was also beating himself up about it, sure that if he hadn’t been out, then he’d have been back home and would have heard something. Harry had pointed out that with an organised gang, Jim and his mum and dad were very lucky that they hadn’t heard anything and gone to investigate. Because likely as not, the gang would have dealt with them swiftly and violently.

‘Harry?’

Ben’s voice stabbed at Harry’s thoughts.

‘Yes? What?’

‘Sheep rustling?’ Ben said.

‘What about it?’ Harry answered, staring down at his plate which was piled perhaps a little too high, but he was hungry, so he wasn’t about to put any back.

‘You okay?’ Ben asked. ‘You drifted off there for a moment.’

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Harry said, forcing himself to look alert.

‘Then what do they do with the sheep?’ Ben asked. ‘Once they’ve nicked them, I mean. They can’t be worth that much, can they? I mean, a sheep is just a sheep. It’s not like a car or jewellery or money, is it?’

Harry took a gulp from a glass of water at his side. ‘Nick fifty of them and sell their meat on the black market? Yeah, they’re worth a fair bit,’ Harry said. ‘Happens all over the country.’

‘Don’t they have to be killed in a proper place, though?’ Ben asked. ‘You know, an abattoir or something?’

‘Can’t see the kinds of people who think it’s fine to steal sheep being too fussed about the ins and outs of killing them,’ Harry said. ‘Which is half the problem with