Written In Blood

Chapter Thirty-Six

Goosebumps stood out on the exposed flesh of Mitchell's arms as he stared skyward, watching the lights from the air ambulance disappear into the distance. Once it had vanished from sight, bearing Zack Wild and Isobel Walker away to the hospital in town, Mitchell refocused his attention on things a little closer to home, namely on Constance Hawkins, who was standing next to him – she showed no sign of being affected by the cool night air, but she was wearing a dressing gown that covered her from her neck to her feet, so he didn't see why she should be, unlike him; he had rushed out of the house in such a hurry he had forgotten to grab either a jumper or a jacket.

"Will you be alright if we talk about what happened?" Mitchell asked.

There wasn't much to talk about, based on what he had seen when he took a quick look around, being careful not to get in the way of the paramedics as they worked on Zack Wild and his solicitor; it was clear to him what had happened, and after the conversation he had had with Malcolm Wright following the release of Zack Wild, he could easily guess who was responsible for the attempt on Wild's life. Before he could do anything about the situation, though, he needed to know what Constance had seen and heard.

"If you'd prefer, we can leave it 'til morning, but I think it might be better if we do this while everything is fresh in your mind."

Constance thought about it for a couple of seconds before responding. "I don't imagine I will be able to sleep much for the rest of the night, not after this, so you might as well ask your questions now. Would you like a cup of tea?" She started up the path to her front door without waiting for an answer, leaving the sergeant with no choice but to follow her.

"Thank you." Mitchell accepted the cup of tea Constance brought him, and lifted it straight to his lips. The first sip was hot enough to burn on its way down his throat, but he put up with that, it was a small price to pay for the warmth that spread through him for the first time since receiving the call about the attack on Zack Wild. "Do you think you could tell me what happened tonight, from the beginning?"

"Of course." Constance took a moment to sip at her own tea, and then she began. "I went to bed at my usual time, about ten o'clock, and read for a little bit, then I put my head down. I dropped off almost straight away – I've never had a problem getting to sleep, but it seems as though the older I get, the harder it is for me to stay asleep; the slightest little thing wakes me up. I hadn't been asleep for more than an hour when I woke up; I heard a car pass the house and stop next door; I guessed that it must be Mr Wild getting home, but as easy as it is for me to wake up, it isn't as easy for me to get out of bed." Constance's face took on a look that suggested she wished she had back the mobility of her youth. "I had barely made it back into bed and gotten my head down on the pillow, at least that's how it seemed, the clock on my bedside table said about half an hour had passed, when I heard the shotgun blasts next door."

"You knew what the noises were straight away?" Mitchell asked.

Constance looked at the sergeant with something akin to disgust. "Of course I did," she said. "You can't live your whole life in the countryside without knowing a shotgun when you hear it."

Mitchell accepted that with a quick nod; he could hardly deny the truth of what Constance had said, he hadn't grown up in the country as she had, but twenty plus years of living there did make him sure he would recognise a shotgun when he heard one being fired.

"So you heard the shotgun, how many times was it fired?"

"Twice."

"What happened after that?"

"I struggled out of bed and made my way over to the window. I was hoping to see who had been shooting, and at what, though after Oliver Ryder's little escapade last night I was reasonable certain what, or rather who, was being shot at." Constance paused in her narrative to sip at her tea; only when it was finished did she put her cup down and resume speaking. "By the time I made it to the window, though, they were gone. Since I was concerned about Mr Wild, I struggled into my dressing gown and headed next door to make sure he was alright. Thank goodness Mr Wild was able to remain conscious long enough to call for an ambulance; who knows how long it would have been before help was on the way if they had had to wait for me to find them."

"Yes, very fortunate," Mitchell said. "You said you didn't see the person who fired the shots, I take it that means you can't tell me anything about the person who tried to kill Mr Wild." He didn't even consider the possibility that Zack Wild's solicitor might have been the intended target.

"I'm afraid not, sorry." Constance felt more than a little bad that her lack of speed had prevented her seeing anything that might be of help. "Do you think it might have been Oliver again? He already tried to hurt Mr Wild once, and he's never been the sort to let up on a grudge."

"He would have been my number one choice," Mitchell admitted. "But he couldn't have done it, he's still unconscious in hospital after last night's adventure; I would have been notified if he'd woken up." He sighed briefly, as though annoyed that Constance couldn't tell him anything. "You didn't see anything, but is it possible you heard something that might help me to figure out who tried to kill Mr Wild?" he asked.

"You mean like a car or something?" Constance shook her head when Mitchell nodded. "Sorry, no, I didn't hear anything, other than the two shots. I didn't hear a car after Mr Wild got home, either coming or going, and I'm pretty sure I would have."

It took Mitchell a few seconds to realise the implication of what Constance had just said. "Whoever did this must have walked here," he said. "Not that I suppose that means all that much – it wouldn't take long for someone to get here on foot, even from the other side of the village." He sighed again. "Do you suppose Barry might have seen or heard anything?" he asked, referring to Constance's neighbour on the other side from Zack Wild.

"I guess anything's possible," Constance said. "I wouldn't be too hopeful, though; Barry's deaf as a post, I doubt if he had any idea anything was going on until you turned up with your siren going."

"Surely he would have heard the blasts from the shotgun." Mitchell couldn't see how Barry Whitelaw would have heard the siren if he didn't hear the noise from the shotgun.

Constance offered an uncertain shrug.