Her face had softened with sadness.
‘We found insults on our door. New ones every day. We had a brick through the window, and Henryk spat at many times.’
Bryant had the urge to apologise but he wasn’t sure on whose behalf.
‘Did you report the incidents?’ Dawson asked, unnecessarily. Of course they had.
She nodded. ‘And then two days ago we received the letter.’
‘What letter?’ Bryant asked.
The woman removed the child from her breast and pulled down her sweatshirt. She stood and reached for a single folded sheet on the fireplace, passed it to Bryant.
He opened it and began to read.
‘Fuck off you Polish bastards. Go home and stop taking our money and our jobs. You’ve been warned. We will rape your wife and stab your kids.’
‘Any idea who might have sent this?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘Pinned to the door, no envelope,’ she replied, wearily.
Bryant felt sickened at the words. Someone had possessed enough venom to actually put these words to paper with the sole intention of terrifying a young family.
And now this poor woman was here alone.
‘Any witnesses?’ he asked.
Her expression said it all.
He raised the letter. ‘May I take this?’
She nodded.
‘Is there anywhere else you can stay; your uncle?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘He moved back to Poland three months ago. And we will do the same once Henryk is well enough.’
Bryant felt saddened that this family had been driven out of their home. He saw Dawson’s head shake and knew he was feeling the same way.
‘I’ll inform the station that any calls to this address are to be treated as a priority,’ he said, standing.
She nodded dejectedly. No, it didn’t give him much comfort either.
He wished he could do more.
At the door, Bryant offered her his hand.
‘Thank you for your time,’ he said.
She adjusted baby two on her shoulder as the toddler grabbed her knee. She returned the handshake and offered him a tremulous smile in return.
‘And thank you for yours,’ she said.
Bryant stepped out of the house and took another look around the street.
‘You didn’t mention the texts on Henryk’s phone,’ Dawson said as the door closed behind them.
‘You think she needs anything else to be frightened of?’
Dawson nodded his agreement.
Bryant strode from her front door to the front door directly across the road. It took him eight paces. He stopped, surveyed the street from the other side of the road.
Bryant counted three BNP stickers nestled into the window corners.
‘Stretching your legs?’ Dawson asked, standing beside the car.
Bryant ignored him. The family had had offensive comments scratched into their door, broken windows and anonymous letters posted.
He looked around the street one more time.
No fucking witnesses, indeed, he thought.
SEVENTEEN
Two more lefts through a residential estate and they hit another lane which she guessed was north-west of the dig site.
‘Up here?’ she checked. This road was narrower than the single-track road on the other side of the property.
‘That’s what…’
‘Shush,’ she said, lowering the window. ‘Do you hear that?’
‘It’s called a siren, Stone,’ he said. ‘They’re used by Police, Fire…’
‘And ambulance,’ she said, putting her foot down.
The narrow road turned and increased in gradient before levelling out at a small farmhouse with a view of fields to the west and the M5 to the east.
‘Bloody hell,’ Kim said, hitting the brakes.
Ten feet in front of her a man was on the ground, another leaning over him.
Stone and Travis launched from the car. Travis got there first and hauled the leaning male to his feet.
‘What the hell?…’
Kim saw the man’s hands covered in blood.
‘Please, help him,’ he cried, trying to escape Travis’s grip.
‘Sir, step away,’ Travis said, moving him backwards.
‘What’s his name?’ Kim shouted.
‘Billy. It’s my son. His name is Billy. Please help him.’
Kim leaned down and saw what must have been the father’s handprint on the victim’s neck. She guessed he’d been applying pressure to stop the blood that was now oozing from his son’s wound.
An occasional flinch and moan confirmed that he was still alive. His eyes were closed but his breathing appeared strong and even.
‘Billy, it’s okay, help is coming,’ she said, whipping a latex glove from her jacket pocket.
The proximity of the siren suggested the ambulance was heading along the single-track lane.
Kim placed her hand where his father’s had been and felt the stickiness trying to seep around the shape of her hand. She pushed harder, applying more pressure to the wound.
Billy moaned.
Kim could hear Travis trying to establish if there was anyone else in the house and the direction of the shot. He was getting no answers from the man, who just wanted to be back beside his son.
‘They’re almost here, Billy,’ she said, looking behind as the ambulance pulled onto the property.
‘Just hang on, the medics are here now and they’re going to take care of you.’
Another moan as a gloved hand touched her shoulder.
‘We’ve got it, miss, thank you.’
Kim stepped backwards and allowed them to step in and do their job, unable to recall the last time she’d been called miss.
The paramedics performed a couple of quick checks but wasted no time transferring him to a stretcher that elevated to a gurney. They then pushed him as gently as they could towards the ambulance.
‘Is he going to be okay?’ cried the father from behind Travis.
‘We’ll take good care of him, sir,’ said the older paramedic as they expertly transferred the patient to the rear of the vehicle.
The older male tried to break free but Travis was too quick for him. ‘Let me come with…’
The ambulance door closed behind them.
‘Mr Cowley?’ Kim asked, walking towards the farmhouse.
He nodded as his eyes followed the ambulance leaving the property.
‘Is there a bathroom where I could just clean up?’ she asked, placing herself between him and the ambulance.
‘First on the left,’ he said.
Kim got her first chance to observe the short, chubby man. His bald head was emphasised by the grey stubble on his chin. Oil-stained jeans were tucked into wellington boots, and a dirty blue tee shirt strained around his stomach.
His face was creased with fear and worry.
As she stepped into the farmhouse the stench of rotten food and damp almost overwhelmed her. She ducked into the room on the left which held a toilet and a tiny sink that was full once she placed her hands into it. The toilet was cast iron with a pull chain.
Kim swilled her hands quickly and chose to wipe them on her jeans rather than the towel that was not grey by design.
She stepped back outside to find Travis on the phone by the car and Mr Cowley waiting impatiently with car keys dangling from his finger.
‘What exactly happened here, Mr Cowley?’ she asked.