“It’s a crime scene, Ivy.”
“No shit, Sherlock. But you just killed two people.”
“Both in self-defence. And while trying to protect a hostage. The evidence stacks in our favour.” At least that’s what I’m hoping for. “Your brother’s a lawyer, right?” I laugh, trying to find a lighter side to this.
“He is.”
“Problem solved. Come on.” I peer out and around at the area and focus on the larger of the two outbuildings. Easing Ivy across the open expanse, the door is open, and we go in. A small table with a couple of old garden chairs greets us—a newspaper and a mobile phone on the table.
“Bingo. It must be one of our two friends. He must have heard the shot and left it.” I pick it up, but it asks for a passcode.
“Here. You can call emergency services even without the code.” I let her take the phone. Looking around the small shed-type building, there’s nothing else here. A few paint cans and plant pots in the corner. A broken window again at the far end and the invasion of more weeds.
“Yes, police and ambulance. No, I don’t know where we are.” I can hear the strain in her voice. I gently move her to the chair, and she obliges and sits. Next, I indicate I want the phone. Surprisingly, she hands it over without too much protest.
“Yes, hello?”
“Sir, can you confirm your location, please?”
“I’m afraid we can’t. We’re requesting police and an ambulance to our location. We’ve been the victims of a kidnapping and assault. We are in an abandoned farm building or similar out of earshot of any main roads. The two assailants are dead.”
“I’m sorry, Sir, please repeat that?”
“The two men responsible for our kidnap and assault are dead.”
“We can triangulate your position from your phone. Will you stay on the line?”
“Yes.” I hand the phone back to Ivy. “Keep the line open.”
She nods.
“I need to go and check out our surroundings. See if there are any other clues as to who these men were. Are you okay here?”
“Sure. I’m fine. I have, sorry, what’s your name?” Ivy asks into the phone. “I have Janice on the other line.”
“I won’t be long.” I kiss the top of her head, and she gives me a weak smile. I can see, just like Afghanistan, she’s crashing. I leave one of the guns on the table within reach of Ivy and keep the other one on me before reaching for her chin.
“Hey. Eyes on me, right?” She nods and stares, shuddering a little as she keeps listening to the call. “It’s going to be fine now.” More nodding. Good. “Stay put.”
I head across to the other outbuilding I could see—as abandoned and derelict as the first. There’s nothing here. Across the field that the last one backs onto, I can see an old house, possibly the farmhouse in days gone by. No third guy, no car or van. How did they get us here? There are too many unanswered questions as to what went down and how.
Less than ten minutes later, I'm back with Ivy. She’s still on the line.
“ETA?” I ask. They’d have that by now, surely.
“Janice?” Ivy asks. She listens for a few more seconds. “Three minutes. Janice, I’m going to hang up now. Thank you.” Ivy disconnects the call without waiting for a response.
I pull up the other chair and slump down in it.
“You okay?” she asks, “You look tired?”
“Yeah. Head feels weird, but it's alright.” She looks concerned and tries to look at the gash on my head.
“Okay. What happens next?”
“We wait. We put you in an ambulance, and then we figure out if this is connected to anything you are looking into. There’s no car or van. You said we came by van?”
“Yes. So that means there’s a third guy?” That cloud of fear drifts across her eyes again. Only for a second, but it’s there.
