The Piggy Farmer (The Barrington Patch Book 3), Emmy Ellis [electric book reader txt] 📗

prat he could handle, but murder? He’d want a hell of a lot more, despite there being no risk because Cassie would smooth everything over.

The thing was, did he have the balls to say that to a Grafton? Look, love, I need another twenty if you want me to shoot him, else I’m off.

He laughed at the stupidity of it.

Antsy, needing a breather before he wound himself up further, he checked Jason and, satisfied the bloke would be out of it for a while, he turned the living room light off and left the squat to stand outside and smoke.

It was hard to believe such bad things happened when presented with a white blanket of snow that reeked of childhood and going outside to play in it, cheeks cold, the tip of his nose chill-bitten. The air had a muffled quality, as though the white stuff suffocated any sounds, and there he stood, in the footprints of Balaclava Man on the front step, the door pulled to behind him, lighting up and inhaling, the frosty air going down along with the warm smoke.

He turned to his left, and a speck of orange-yellow in the distance caught his eye. A fire? It winked out, and blackness took its place. Maybe he’d imagined it; he was tired after all. He shrugged and finished his ciggie for five minutes or so, nipped back in to check Jason, made a coffee in one of the to-go cups Balaclava had brought, then came back out again, sparking up another fag.

The rumble of car engines sabotaged the silence, and he turned to his left once more. Headlights cracked slices into the night, one set low, the other high, as if belonging to a car and a lorry. They chuntered past and, as the snow lent extra light, he made out a small dark hatchback and a tow truck behind, a burnt-out vehicle on the back. So he had seen a fire. God, had there been an accident down the way a bit, the car blowing up after a crash? Would the police come along any second, spot him, and ask what he was doing here?

Jimmy shivered from the cold and dipped his head, anxious in case the drivers copped sight of him. The last thing Cassie wanted was people getting interested in the squat, a place that was supposedly empty, of no use to anyone. But if he dashed indoors now, it’d look well weird, bringing more attention.

That shiver was also from fear. He’d fucked up by coming out here, taken a risk. He’d forgotten to switch the living room light off again when he’d checked Jason, and it seeped into the hallway, probably turning him into a highly visible silhouette, seeing as he hadn’t shut the door behind him this time.

Shite. Should he tell Cassie or keep that to himself? Would she be angrier if she found out someone had seen him and he hadn’t said, than she would if he confessed straight away?

You said you didn’t want to get on her bad side…

The vehicles drove towards the Barrington, the taillights of the recovery lorry creepy rectangular eyes, glowing red, the Devil’s irises. That shiver came back, and Jimmy stepped inside, knowing what he had to do, no matter the consequences. He locked up, entered the living room, and closed the door.

Jimmy: I went outside for a fag. Might have been seen by someone in a car and a recovery lorry.

Cassie: Don’t worry about it. They’re my people. Too busy atm. Talk soon. [smile emoji]

Jimmy’s relief left him weak. That could have gone the other way if those drivers weren’t something to do with her. Luck seemed to be on his side, and that creature called Curiosity reared its head.

Why had a car been set alight, and what did it have to do with Cassie?

Chapter Four

Lou stood at the back door of the farmhouse as if Cassie’s knock had woken her. She’d nipped in to get her tartan blanket and wrapped it around herself, playing the role they’d planned.

“What’s the matter?” she said, sounding worried. Loud.

Oh, she’s good at this.

“Sorry to bother you again so soon, but we need to feed the pigs.” Cassie said that in case Joe had woken up and listened in.

This had to seem authentic. Lou was insistent he couldn’t know what she’d been up to—or what she’d be getting up to in the future. She’d said something in Mam’s kitchen, regarding having to keep another secret about murder, and she couldn’t handle Joe knowing who she’d really been before they’d started seeing one another. Mam had given Lou a look: Don’t say a word.

So she was in on whatever had gone down, and Cassie was to remain in the dark, was that it?

Maybe it’s better I don’t know all the details.

Lou sniffed. “Hang on, let me just get Joe. He was asleep the last time I looked in on him.”

She disappeared inside, and Cassie turned to Mam, who stood beside her, bundled into a padded black parka, her hands stuffed into the pockets. Thick flakes of snow flurried down, dancing in front of her face, one landing on her cheek and dissolving.

Mam had fed Bob’s body into Marlene, Cassie helping her to lift him, then Cassie and Lou had cleaned the mess out the back of the factory, scraping the bloodied snow up where the brain and blood had spattered. Together, they’d washed the tyres, dug up blood from the compacted snow tracks Lou had made when driving off. Once Bob was minced and Marlene cleaned, they’d hauled the plastic box containing his remains onto the trolley and transferred it to Cassie’s boot.

They just had to hope Joe hadn’t roused while Lou had been absent, off killing a bloody copper, for fuck’s sake. He hadn’t phoned or texted her, so maybe he was