Written In Blood

Chapter Nine

Melissa couldn't see much, but that didn't stop her trying to watch the house in the wing mirror as Mitchell drove them down the road, back towards the village green and the centre of the village. All there was to see was her grandmother, who was pottering around in her front garden – of Zack Wild, who they had gone to see, there was no sign.

"D'you think he's actually out, or in and trying to avoid us?" Melissa asked after finally abandoning the wing mirror and settling back in the passenger seat.

Mitchell shrugged. "That fancy sports car of his isn't in the drive, so I'd say he's out, but you never know. I can't think why he'd be avoiding us, though, not unless he's the killer, even then I can't see him avoiding us – he doesn't know that we know Lucy is apparently missing, or that we have reason for thinking she might have visited him.

"Hiding or just not in, we'll have to try again later," he said. "Right now, I want to speak to Oliver Ryder before we go and see the Gouldings."

Melissa didn't relish the thought of dealing with Oliver Ryder at that time of the morning, and she was slow to exit the car when they reached their destination. She knew from experience that Oliver and his friends were reluctant to talk to the police at the best of times, and not, with them not being morning people, it was usually best to wait until after noon to speak to them. Mitchell had no such concerns, however, and strode up to the front door, where he waited for Melissa to make her way around to the back door, as per his instructions.

When there was no response to the doorbell, he banged his fist on the door; he then stepped back so he could shout, "Open up, it's the police," loud enough to be heard by Oliver and his friends, even if they were still abed.

The movement of the curtain in the front bedroom was minimal, no more than a quick twitch as someone peeked out, but Mitchell spotted it. He quickly returned to the front door so he could ring the bell and bang his fist on it again.

"We're not here to arrest you, we just need to talk," he called out, though he doubted his words would get anyone to the door any quicker.

Melissa heard the shouts from Sergeant Mitchell, and listened out for some sign of a reaction – it didn't take long. Within moments of Mitchell's second shout, she heard thundering footsteps approach the back door. She tensed, one hand on her extendable baton, while she waited for the door she was standing at the side of to open; it did so with a bang and Melissa pushed away from the wall.

Tom Bottle and Simon Deacon got themselves jammed, momentarily, in the doorway, as they both tried to exit the house at the same time. When they freed themselves, they burst into the garden, straight into the leg that Melissa stuck out to trip them up; they went down in a tangled heap of arms and legs that made them look like some weird, many-limbed creature.

"Morning, boys," Melissa said cheerfully. "I guess you didn't hear Sergeant Mitchell, we only want to talk to you, so there's no reason for you to be running off anywhere."

"Since when have you guys ever only wanted to talk to us?" Tom Bottle wanted to know as he extricated himself from his friend. "You always think we've done summat. Well, we ain't done nowt, so you can bugger off and look somewhere else for whoever did whatever's been done."

"If you've done nothing wrong, why were you running?" Melissa asked, though she didn't give either of the two men a chance to respond. "Come on, on your feet and back inside. If you cooperate, and don't give us any hassle, you'll both be back in bed before you know it," she told them. "Where's Oliver?" she asked as she shepherded Simon and Tom back into the house. "He's normally the first one through the door."

"He's not here," Simon said.

"Where is he?"

"He's out."