Gardners, Ditchers, and Gravemakers (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 4) by Oliver Davies (free e books to read online TXT) 📕

“Roll your sleeves down,” Susanne told me, standing up too and fishing her id from her bag. I did as she told me, and we left Mills to get a few things ready for Grace, me leading Susanne back downstairs to the entrance.

Three people stood at the desk, the constable who had come calling for me, a girl of about seventeen in a brightly coloured raincoat, clutching the hand of a four-year-old with short ginger curls, spotty yellow wellies and a coat with ears on the hood.

“Hello,” I walked over, trying to keep my voice light-hearted and friendly as I joined them. “I’m Detective Inspector Thatcher, and you can call me Max. You must be Holly,” I looked at the older girl, “and Grace?” A received two shy nods. “This is Susanne, she works for child protection, and she’s going to be staying with us until your aunt Paige arrives.”

“Paige called me,” Holly told us, her voice wavering slightly. “Said to make you show me your badges.”

I smiled at that and pulled out my warrant card as Susanne offered her own id for Holly to look over. She nodded once and then squatted down to look at Grace.

“The policeman and the lady are going to look after you until Paige comes, okay?”

Grace nodded, and Susanne bent down beside her. “Hi, Grace. My name’s Susanne. We’re going to go upstairs, alright, and maybe do some drawing or something until your auntie’s here.”

Holly gave her a light nudge forward, and Grace took Susanne’s hand, face brightening lightly as she skipped alongside her to the stairs, Susanne asking her questions about the stickers on her jumper.

“Is Abbie alright?” Holly asked once they had bounced up the stairs. “Paige didn’t tell me anything.”

“She’s in the hospital right now,” I told her. Holly nodded, her face a bit grim. “Are you alright? Getting home and things?”

She nodded, pulling her coat further up her shoulders. “I have my brother’s old car, so I’m good. Thanks for looking after her,” she added with a nod to the stairs.

“Thank you for bringing her here,” I answered. “You’re a very good babysitter, Holly. I hope you get paid well.”

She scrunched her nose and smiled. “About as well any babysitter. Bye then,” she said, drifting away to the door. I gave her a small wave and turned around, thanking the constable and making my way upstairs.

Mills had set up a small area over by a desk for Grace, some blank paper, a few pens and what sorry excuses we had for toys in this place. She didn’t seem to mind, and was sat on the floor with Susanne, tipping her rucksack upside down and spilling everything out.

I stood and watched for a moment, and Sharp drifted over to stand by me.

“Sweet girl,” she muttered, her eyes full of rare sympathy. “When’s the aunt arriving?”

I checked my watch. “Should be about an hour now.”

Sharp nodded. “Alright. Get her some juice or something. A biscuit, too,” she ordered before striding away.

I chuckled, ducking into the kitchen to see what I could find. There was a bottle of Ribena tucked away in one of the cupboards, so I made her a drink in a plastic cup, whisked the packet of ginger nuts from the tin and carted it all over, setting everything down on the desk. Grace was playing with Susanne, showing her the paintings she had done that morning for Abbie.

Mills and I left them alone, heading into our office and began constructing a very empty, very boring board of what we knew. We had a rough time when she’d been attacked, and only one person on the grounds had been there the whole time. That didn’t bode well for Dr Quaid. The hour passed quickly, and shortly, the constable reappeared, a young woman walking behind him with her face drawn with worry. As we left the office, Grace looked up and saw her, clambering to her feet and running over.

“Paige!” The young woman managed a smile, dropping her bag and catching Grace, swinging her up into a tight hug. As I drew near, I could see the tight grip Paige had on the girl, her eyes closed, face pressed into the curls of hair. She opened her eyes at the sound of our feet and gently dropped Grace to her feet.

“I’m just going to have a chat with the policemen, okay?” she said, kneeling down and fixing the hair clip that dangled down Grace’s cheek. “Then we’re going to go home, and auntie Paige is going to come and stay at your house!” She smiled.

“Where’s mummy?” Grace asked, and Paige’s face fell.

“Mummy’s a bit poorly right now, poppet. So, she has to stay with the doctors, but we’ll go and see her soon. And when she’s all better, we’ll bring her home.”

Grace didn’t look too pleased by this, but Paige stroked her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead.

“You and I can build a den, and we’ll sleep in it until she’s better. How about that?”

Grace perked up then and nodded, curls bouncing on her head.

“Good girl. You go and put everything back in your bag then, and I’ll chat to the policemen, then we’ll go home.”

She stood up, and Grace ran over to Susanne, who helped her pile everything back into the ladybird shaped bag. Paige turned to Mills and me, her face falling completely, worry etched over her face. She was young, I realised, in her early twenties with her eyeliner smudged around her eyes, her bright pink nail polish chipped, and her heeled boots topped by a pair of frilly socks. I could see some of the family resemblance. She and Grace both had deep brown eyes and freckled skin, but Paige’s hair, unlike her sister and niece’s, was brown, swept over one shoulder.

“Abbie?” she asked frantically. I indicated a spare chair, and she sank down.

“She’s in the hospital, in a coma,”