Page 19 of Worse Than Murder (DCI Matilda Darke Thriller #13)

L ynne Pemberton is shattered. She hasn’t been to sleep yet, and it’s now getting light.

The storm raged until the early hours of the morning before it eventually began to die down. However, the damage had been done, not only to Lynne’s house, but to the village as a whole. Lynne hasn’t been out yet as she’s still battling to save her own home.

After the tree had crashed through her living room window, and the initial panic and horror subsided, she set about covering all the furniture with any old duvet covers and blankets that she could find to protect them from the rain that was lashing into the room.

She immediately called Alison, leaving a panicking voicemail, and Iain, where she screamed at him to return home.

There was nothing any of them could do until the tree, a mighty oak more than a hundred years old, was removed.

Iain called Frank who has the next farm up and asked if he could come straight over.

He’d been in the process of chopping the felled tree outside the school into manageable moveable pieces, but he came as soon as he could.

By three o’clock, Iain was hammering up sheet board with Lynne, Alison and Claire holding it in place.

The only thing they could do then was wait until daylight and the electricity coming back on before a full survey of the damage could be done.

‘I loved this carpet,’ Lynne says as she squelches through the living room into the kitchen. ‘I’m guessing it can’t be saved.’

‘We need to get it taken up and see if the floorboards beneath are damaged or soaked. They’ll need to dry out before we can lay a new one.’

‘What about my sofa?’ she asks, looking longingly at it.

‘We might be able to clean it. You did the right thing in pushing it out of the way and covering it,’ he says, putting his arm around her shoulders.

‘I know they’re only things,’ she says, emotions rising in her throat. ‘They can easily be replaced, but… they’re our things.’

‘It could have been much worse. You could have been standing at the window when it crashed through. I could have lost you.’

‘Don’t say that,’ she shudders.

‘It’s true.’ Iain’s phone vibrates in his back pocket. He pulls it out and looks at the text message. ‘It’s from Frank. He says the people from the electric board are here to try and restore power. Are you still planning on going over to see that detective?’

‘What? Oh, yes. I’ll go later. There’s no rush. I’m guessing Alison will have too much to keep her busy over the next few days to worry about the past.’

She slumps into a wooden chair brought in from the kitchen.

‘Are you all right?’ Iain asks when he notices the angst on his wife’s face.

‘The last time there was a major storm here we were plunged into a nightmare. Now, it’s happening all over again.’

Iain squats down to her level and wraps his arm around her, pulling her tightly into a hug. He rests her head against his chest and brushes her hair.

Neither of them says anything. They don’t need to. They are both thinking the same thing. Their thirty-year secret is about to be blown wide open by an interfering DCI from Sheffield, and there is nothing they can do about it except wait for the fallout.

* * *

It’s a much colder morning. A stiff breeze is blowing.

The heatwave is over, and Philip, Sally and me are surveying the restaurant from the far side of the car park.

There are a few missing roof tiles. A couple of trees have fallen which need to be removed before the restaurant can open later, but Nature’s Diner seems to have been in favour this time around.

‘Close call,’ Philip says.

‘It was scary there for a while. I don’t know how those people in America cope with tornadoes,’ Sally says with a shiver.

‘Can I take the dogs into the woods?’ Carl asks. It’s obvious he wants to go and see how badly damaged the trees are. He can barely control his excitement.

‘Yes, but be careful,’ Sally says. ‘Watch your step.’

‘Excellent,’ he grins.

‘What happened to you last night?’ Sally asks me. ‘I heard the shower running when I got up to go to the toilet about four o’clock.’

‘I went for a walk.’

‘In the middle of a massive storm? You could have been killed. What kind of a person goes out for a walk in weather like that?’

‘I wanted to clear my head.’

‘It would have been less risky with a bottle of vodka. Did it work?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Philip moves away from us and tests the wooden steps to the restaurant to see if they need repairing.

Sally lowers her voice. ‘I’m worried about you.’ She rubs her hand on my arm. It’s a comforting gesture, but I don’t feel anything. ‘You don’t go out in weather like we had last night unless you’re on some kind of suicide mission. You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?’

I think of Liam Walsh, the teenager at university struggling with his mental health. He wanted to die so much but he couldn’t bring himself to take his own life on his own. He must have been going through so much anguish and hurt. I can certainly understand how he felt.

‘I’m not going to kill myself,’ I say, though even I’m not convinced by my words.

‘You’re killing yourself every time you go out running or swimming. You’re putting your body through too much.’

‘I’m screaming, Sally,’ I say, turning to her. ‘Inside, I’m screaming so loud that I can’t hear anything else, and I don’t know what to do to silence it. That’s why I went out last night. I need to unleash all this pain.’

‘What did you do last night?’

‘I went down by the lake. I stood on the edge, and I cried. I shouted and screamed and cried until I was hoarse. Any other night, I’d have woken the whole village. The storm drowned out all the noise.’

‘Do you feel better for it?’

I think for a moment. I look at her. I can’t lie to Sally. ‘No. Not at all.’

* * *

Carl heads off into the woods with both dogs, Philip and Sally continue to survey their restaurant, and I change into my wetsuit.

The lake has been calm in the month I’ve been here.

The wild winds of last night have died down but there’s still a stiff breeze blowing.

It’ll be a change to push against the tide.

The water feels much colder, and I gasp as I submerge myself.

I swim out a few meters doing a gentle breaststroke before turning over onto my back and looking up at the sky.

Last night, it had been black and violent.

This morning, it’s blue and calm. In the woods, I can hear the echoing sound of dogs barking.

The two Woodys are enjoying their adventure, jumping over felled trees, and picking up new sticks for Carl to throw.

I smile to myself. I’m enjoying being here. I don’t want my time here to end.

I roll back onto my front and swim further out.

I love swimming in the lake. The water is so clear.

Occasionally, when there’s nobody else around, I feel like I’m in my own private oasis, my surroundings untouched by the negativities of the twenty-first century. Everything seems unspoiled and clean.

‘Matilda!’

I hear my name being called. I turn and see Carl at the entrance to the woods, standing by a couple of felled trees. He waves and I wave back.

‘I’ve found something.’

‘What?’ I call back, not hearing what he’s saying.

‘I said, I’ve found something,’ he shouts louder.

I still can’t hear him so swim quickly towards him.

‘What did you say?’ I ask, once I’m closer.

‘I found that tree we saw get hit by lightning,’ he says, his face dirty with soot. He’s obviously touched the scorched bark. ‘It’s all black and in pieces. You can still smell the burning. It’s so cool.’

One of the dogs jumps into the lake and swims out to join me. The other follows and swims around the trees, snatching away at the broken off twigs and branches.

‘You look cold,’ Carl says.

‘It’s a bit chillier than I expected it to be.’

‘What’s that?’ He points to something entangled in the branches.

‘Where?’

‘There by Woody.’

I crane my neck to see where Carl is pointing. I swim over, both dogs joining me, getting in my way as I try to pull whatever it is free. It’s a piece of plastic, rectangular in shape. I manage to free it, turn it over and wipe the smooth surface.

‘It’s a registration plate,’ I say.

‘Where did it come from?’

‘I’ve no idea. E311 TVC,’ I read it out. ‘That’s an old number. E-reg must be… I’m not sure…1990s, possibly.’

‘Wow. That really is old.’

‘It’s not that old, Carl. I was born in… never mind,’ I say, suddenly wondering if Carl would consider me ancient if he knew I was born in the 1970s.

‘The storm wouldn’t have blown that all the way out here, would it?’ he asks.

I look around me. There are no cars around here.

The woods are in the way of nearby streets.

If a car registration plate had become detached somehow, there is no way it could have blown all the way out to the lake.

There is only one place it could have come from, and that was from down beneath the surface of the water.

‘Carl, take this,’ I say. I swim to the edge and hand Carl the number plate.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m going to have a look and see if I can see a car.’

‘Oh, cool. You think there’s one down there?’

‘When it comes to the bottom of lakes and rivers, Carl, there are all manner of things down there. At the bottom of the River Don in Sheffield, police divers were searching for a missing man, and they found two abandoned ATM machines, a sawn-off shotgun used in a bank robbery in the 1980s, and a Sky satellite dish.’

‘Was there any money in the machines?’

‘No.’

‘Shame. Did you find the missing man?’

‘No. I believe he’s still missing. Do you want to shout the dogs back? I don’t want them trying to freedive to the bottom of the lake.’

‘Sure.’

Carl shouts for both dogs. They ignore him until he plunges his hand into his pocket and pulls out a couple of small Bonio biscuits. They doggy-paddle to the edge and shake off the excess water before emptying his pockets of biscuits.

I swim away from the felled trees, take a deep breath, and dip below the surface.

Despite the storm and trees crashing into the water disturbing the detritus beneath, it is still relatively clear, and I’m able to see further than the end of my nose.

Unlike the filthy water of the River Don where it’s not even safe to step into without wearing a full HAZMAT suit.

Thinking about the level of pollution and the murky water makes me shudder.

Compared to that, the water that makes up Lake Windermere is practically drinkable.

I surface, catch my breath, then go down again. I turn, look about me, and can’t see anything resembling a vehicle. I swim down, left and right, but there’s nothing there. Having never been diving before a day in my life, I’m not adept at holding my breath for long periods of time. I resurface.

‘Have you found anything?’ Carl shouts.

I turn to look at him and see I’ve drifted far out into the lake.

‘Not yet,’ I call, breathlessly.

‘Maybe there’s nothing down there. Maybe it was just the registration plate and the tree smashing into the water brought it up.’

‘Maybe,’ I say, though I think otherwise.

One final try. I take a huge breath and dip below the water.

I swim down, open my eyes, and that’s when I see it.

A car. Judging by the amount of silt, mud and algae that’s clinging to it, it has been down here for some time.

As much as I want to get closer, to at least discover what colour the car is, my lungs won’t allow it.

I break the surface of the lake and gasp for air.

‘Find anything?’ Carl asks.

I nod. It’s a while before I speak as I struggle to get my breath back. ‘There’s a car down there.’

‘Excellent,’ he calls out, his excited voice echoing around him.

Carefully, I swim back to the shore, using the felled trees to pull myself in. I’m knackered.

‘Do you think this is a clue to a big murder mystery?’ Carl asks, looking at the registration plate.

‘I’d have thought you’d had enough of mysteries,’ I say, dragging myself to my feet and wringing out my hair.

‘Well, yes, they’re scary when they happen to you, but when you’re not directly involved, they’re exciting.’

‘Shall I tell you how exciting I think this will get?’

‘Go on.’ He looks up at me with wide eyes and a huge grin on his face, almost salivating.

‘I think joyriders nicked a car and needed somewhere to get rid of it, so drove it into the lake.’

‘Oh.’

‘Sorry, Carl, no buried treasure, no bodies, and no serial killers. Sometimes police work is incredibly dull.’

We walk into the darkness of the woods. I turn to look back over my shoulder to where I picked the registration plate up from.

I must have disturbed something when I jumped down into the water as another item bobs to the surface and becomes entangled in the twigs.

I pause, momentarily, and squint to try to make out the object, but I can’t.

There’s clearly a lot more beneath the surface that needs to be brought up.