James drove carefully, Siegfried had finally shelled out to get the brakes repaired properly but the tyres were practically nothing but canvas now and the desolate roads were steep, winding, icy and treacherous. He kept his speed low and prayed he didn't meet anyone coming the other way. Of course, his first call of the day would take him to the very limits of their practice's territory. He chewed the inside of his lip as he navigated the awkward terrain.
"Killed." Siegfried said blankly. He felt his knees buckle and suddenly the younger policeman was there, guiding him to sit in the old wooden chair. Siegfried sat absently, not really noticing. His mind was entirely filled with that one sentence echoing endlessly.
"Yes sir, I'm very sorry sir."
"How? What...what happened? He was just going out for a pint, he's always doing it! There must be some mistake!" There was an almost pleading, desperate tone to his voice Siegfried noticed, but couldn't bring himself to care. Nothing mattered, nothing except finding out…oh God. Tris…
As he crested the rise at the top of the latest hill James noticed a dark shape huddled on the side of the road. He braked slowly, mindful to avoid a skid and pulled up onto the grassy verge. Another dumped dog? The casual cruelty people treated their pets with was astounding. Poor creature must have frozen to death, patiently waiting for humans who'd just cast him or her aside like a toy they were tired of. Into the Yorkshire Dales on a freezing night in January! Monstrous! Certain people just should not be allowed to take on responsibility for an animal.
He opened the car door, no point putting it off. If the poor thing was dead he'd take it back to the surgery, see the body was disposed of respectfully. And there was always a chance it might still be alive if it had been dumped recently. He would never understand why people dumped unwanted pets, just because they got a little too big or had a couple of accidents. Perhaps a new baby had come along, or a new, cuter pet. Or the family had moved house or gone on holiday and couldn't be bothered finding someone else to care for it. Monstrous. Absolutely monstrous.
"I'm afraid there's no mistake. Ned Farnby identified your brother. And you say he's not come back home?"
"…No. No he hasn't." There was silence. Siegfried stared at his hands, willing his brain to comprehend what it was being told. He drew in a shaky breath. "Can I see him?" The two policemen glanced at each other.
"It's not quite that simple sir, you see, we haven't actually found the body yet."
"What?" Not found the…his mind shied away from the last word. "But you know he was…he was…"
"Ned Farnby came into the police station this morning. Still hung-over. He confessed, told us everything that had happened."
"Ned Farnby? He k…killed, he, he hurt Tris?!"
The shape didn't look quite right James realised as he approached but it wasn't until he crouched next to it that his brain managed to identify the figure into a human. He gasped in shock, a hit and run victim? Rather worse than a dumped dog, poor bloke, he'd have frozen just as easily as any other animal left here. And what if he were injured? Well, James was a vet he supposed; he'd be able to handle most injuries, at least until he'd managed to get whoever it was to the hospital.
The figure was lying on his stomach, one arm stretched towards the road, the other hiding his face. His blond hair was matted with blood, some of which had clearly pooled beneath him and frozen. James hesitated against turning him over, didn't want to risk making a broken neck or spine worse. He felt for a pulse in the wrist. The skin was icy cold to the touch, numbing his fingertips. He couldn't feel a pulse. Perhaps the neck then? He moved the concealing arm and felt his heart drop heavily into his boots.
"Tris…?"
"Yes sir." The policeman nodded to his partner as the surgery door opened. He went out and Siegfried heard him discouraging the potential customer. The rumours would be flying thick and fast now he mused detachedly.
"Can you tell me what happened?" He had to know, the truth couldn't possibly be worse than the vivid images his overactive imagination was throwing up.
"Of course. Ned Farnby, the labourer on Mr Garnly's farm, do you know him."
"Yes. He always seemed…"
"Quite. He came to us this morning to turn himself in for murder." Siegfried couldn't help the flinch at the word 'murder'. The policeman grimaced apologetically. His partner hadn't come back, must be standing guard at the door. Siegfried couldn't blame him; it must be the hardest part of the job. It certainly was as a vet, telling somebody their beloved animal hadn't made it. How much worse must it be to report a family member hadn't…hadn't…
"Did he definitely say Tristan?"
"Yes sir. Apparently Ned was drunk and harassing a lady, he can't remember who. Tristan interfered."
"That sounds like Tristan." Tris may have acted the coward but that was all it was; an act. He was a Farnon at heart and wouldn't stand by idly when someone needed help.
Frantically James scrabbled at Tristan's neck, pulling the blood speckled collar down and pressing his fingers firmly into the pulse point. The seconds ticked past agonisingly slowly with no discernible trace of life. He felt the icy core in his stomach expand until it filled his chest and dug his fingers in further, desperately praying for that life giving blood to still be flowing.
He wasn't sure he could bear it if Tristan was…well…dead. Tris was his best friend, his conspirator and the one who helped him weather Siegfried's frequent mood changes and sudden enthusiasms. He'd known Tris longer than he'd known his wife for heaven's sake! Yes, he was annoying, far too fond of playing practical jokes and a downright genius at skiving off unpleasant jobs but he was cheerful, hard-working when he did actually work, witty and intelligent. He'd been the driving force behind James's marriage, and thus the driving force behind his becoming a partner in a successful veterinary practice and finding a home here in the Dales. Life without Tristan Farnon was…unthinkable!
"Yes sir. He then said that after your brother interposed himself the woman ran away. Ned got angry and turned on the nearest person."
"Tris."
"Yes. Drink makes a man do terrible things sir. Terrible."
"But you said you hadn't found a body? How…"
"Well it seems sir," The policeman looked uncomfortable, shifting his grip on his helmet. "That after the ah, incident Ned realised what he'd done and panicked. He hauled the body into that old truck of his and hid it somewhere up on the hills. And, er, he can't remember where. We've got men searching of course but it's a large area."
"Oh. Yes. But…couldn't he be mistaken? You said he was drunk, perhaps…"
"We checked the area the incident had occurred. There was definitely evidence of a struggle, including the murder weapon."
"Murder weapon?"
"A brick I'm afraid, sir. Ned struck young Mr Farnon with it in the head. Said it killed him instantly."
"Oh." Siegfried felt the blood drain from his face. He'd been mistaken, not knowing had been far preferable to this cold, stark description of his brother's death. He didn't say anything else and the policeman shifted uncomfortably.
"If you have any other questions, you know where to find us." The policeman nodded briskly and left, collecting his colleague as he did. Siegfried sat in the empty surgery and stared into blankness.
Oh thank God! James almost felt like crying in relief as his fingers finally registered a faint thudding pulse. He sat back on his haunches and exhaled. Thank God! But Tristan wasn't out of danger yet. Now he knew he was alive James began cataloguing his injuries more critically, a bad cut on the chin and one arm was at an odd angle, probably dislocated. Impossible to tell if any bones had been broken but no other visible injuries. He ran his hands across Tris's torso and felt a slight give. Broken ribs then, or possibly just cracked. But the two most serious worries were the head wound, which had streaked Tris's face with dried blood and the cold. He must have been out here for hours, waiting for someone to come by. No doubt about it, hypothermia. James needed to get him somewhere warm, fast!
He lifted Tristan awkwardly; he was taller than James and hardly a lightweight. Managing to get one hand looped under the injured man's knees and the other around his back he carried him swiftly towards the waiting car, ensuring Tris's head was resting against his shoulder and not hanging. The cold was a greater danger than the risk of a broken neck and necessitated moving him, but no harm in minimising the risk as much as possible.
The car door was thankfully still open and James eased Tristan into the passenger seat before jumping into his own seat and driving off. No time to be careful now, he had to get Tris somewhere warm!
