Chapter Ten – The Beginning of Something Great

"Whoever you are, just go away," a gruff voice called from the inside.

Liz Merrick carefully spared a glance at Ben who stood next to her. He'd insisted on following her as he'd learned what she was about to do and especially after Bertha, all worked up, had demanded that Jack would be brought into custody for scaring her young neighbor by pointing a gun at her and screaming in her face.

"Mr. Lane, please. It's Doctor Merrick. I am here with Mr. Norton," she explained.

There was some rustling inside, things being shifted and then the doorknob twisted around, revealing a tired and scruffy looking man in his late forties.

"What is it you want, Doctor Merrick?" He asked wearily, his eyes flacking from her to her company, unsure of what was going on.

"I don't want to cause you any trouble, Mr. Lane," she began carefully.

"I'm sure you don't," he drawled. "That I can manage on my own."

Liz gave him a faint smile as she nodded inwards. "Mind if we come in for a while? I believe that Bertha has enough to gossip about as it is."

Jack sighed as he allowed them entrance to his house. "That infuriating woman, she walks around up here with her dog every day, always lingering to see if something's happening," he said, his voice carrying an undertone of anger as he closed the door after them.

"My apologies, Doctor Merrick and Mr. Norton. There hasn't been a proper cleaning to this house for a very long time," Jack excused as he motioned for them to sit down at the kitchen table.

"Mr. Lane," Liz began, not quite sure on how to proceed. "The reason to why I'm here…"

Jack and Liz locked eyes as he moved over to the refrigerator. There was something in his gaze that spoke of uncertainty and helplessness at the same time.

"Sergeant Merton doesn't want to bring you in – in fact he don't have time. So we came to an agreement. As you might have guessed already it concerns the late night threat you made while pointing a gun in the face of one of your new neighbours."

Jack sighed and broke eye contact.

"You've been through so much already and from what I can gather you haven't had much help from anyone around," she said softly.

The goat farmer chuckled sarcastically. "That is an understatement, Doctor Merrick," he let on.

Liz smiled back and thought she'd gotten the opening she'd hoped for. "You know, I'm from London and according to Bertha also an upper-class want to be. I don't behave like a decent village doctor and I should have at least been arrested for trying to steal another woman's man right under her nose," she explained to him, secretly looking at Ben Norton wondering how he took the news.

"Anyway. I moved up here to get away from it all and to start anew. Instead he followed me here, begging me to come back with him. I wanted nothing to with him as I'd long ago realized this couldn't go on. Unfortunately he was shot and killed right outside the Aidensfield Arms. As a direct result the whole village got to know what I had been trying so hard to hide," she finished.

Ben carefully moved closer to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"The point is, Mr. Lane, that your past will continue to follow you unless you do something about it," Liz reasoned.

Jack nodded at her true words.

"I wanted to help you with that. I think it's time to move on," she said boldly. "How many nights – and days, have you been talking to your bottle and the bottle alone?"

"That's not your business," he said, suddenly angry.

However, he wasn't really angry at the good looking doctor sitting at his kitchen table. He was angry at himself for letting it go this far. For not being able to rise from the abyss he'd created for himself. It was just that he saw no reason for it.

"Please, Mr. Lane, tell me your story. I've told you mine," Liz said softly undeterred by his steely words.

He softened somewhat as he put the kettle on. "It's Jack, Doctor Merrick and it's a long story," he cautioned.

The doctor smiled happily. "We have time and, Jack, please call me Liz," she returned.

OOOOOO

Sgt. Merton merely gave Alf a curt nod as he strode past him heading for his office the third time that day, having been out on errands, as the officer was carefully trying to hide a large sandwich beneath the desk. When he was at the door the sergeant carefully turned around, a smug look on his face as Ventress retrieved the sandwich from beneath the desktop.

"Thanks for last night, Alf. I should have said so this morning but it slipped my mind," Dennis said with a faint upward curl to his lips in appreciation. He made to continue down the corridor to his office but stopped short and addressed the out of uniform clerk, which Alf now was. "And as far as I'm concerned I haven't seen any sandwich," he said.

Alf sighed with relief. "I better hurry then, before DI Shiner is finished in the interrogation room and walks in on me," he replied.

"Anything interesting happened?" Dennis asked curiously.

"The man has been identified as Charlie Carter, a clerk at a famous hotel down in Liverpool," Ventress explained.

"Good," the sergeant returned joyfully as he twisted the doorknob and walked into his office.

However, the peace and quiet only lasted for a minute before his phone started ringing. With a sigh he walked around his desk and sat down in his office chair, reaching for the phone.

"Ashfordly Police, Sergeant Merton speaking," he said.

"Sergeant Merton, I'm glad I caught you," the somewhat familiar voice said. "It's Doctor Craven. I have some information that I think should be forwarded to you regarding Jeremy Watson," he explained.

Dennis gently reached up with his hand to rub his forehead. "By all means doctor, enlighten me," he encouraged. He would grasp at straws at the moment just to get some kind of useful information regarding the man.

"According to my nephew, Jeremy Watson was a good man but he didn't know how to handle pressure and colleagues that well. He lived the high life apparently, went to bars and clubs, casinos, you name it. He began to look tired, during his shifts a while back, and my nephew questioned him about it, concerned for his well-being. However, Watson claimed to be fine but something was obviously bothering the man," the medical examiner explained.

Dennis sighed waiting patiently for the good doctor to come to the point. He wasn't interested in a life story.

"As a result Watson had trouble focusing on his tasks and he made an error in surgery that set his professional relationship with his senior colleague on edge. The investigation made by the hospital deemed him guilty of negligence in his duties and he was expelled. Watson was practically begging them to reconsider but they wouldn't budge and the next day he turned up drunk to collect his things. My nephew didn't see him much after that but when he did he noted that the man was nothing but a shadow of his former self. At one time he offered his help but Jeremy Watson answered that he couldn't be helped, that it was too late. This was about a month ago," Doctor Craven finished.

"Thank you, doctor. I believe I owe you a favor," Merton said cunningly into the phone.

OOOOOO

Lord Ashfordly huffed at the crowded area next to the old mine. It had happened in the outskirts of his land once again. Only this time the victim was alive. The police onsite examiners were sweeping the place clean and no one else had been allowed access to the site as of yet. A news reporter had sneaked in beneath the do-not-cross line that marked the crime scene which in this case began just outside the entrance. The day was almost over and no one had made any move as of to leave his premises.

The reporter managed to get one snap shot before he was roughly manhandled out by two officers brought over from Strensford to aide of the Ashfordly district.

When the reporter was well away from the restricted area he once again began to advance, this time he'd sought out his lordship in the crowd.

"Lord Ashfordly!" he hollered as he elbowed his way forward.

"Norton, handle this would you?" Ashfordly said dryly. "I thought it was already taken care of."

"I'm sorry, the last I heard from Mr. Mayer the man had been given a warning and driven off the premises," Ben returned.

"I'll have a word with my keeper, Mr. Mayer, as soon as I get back. Either he's become sloppy or this reporter is more persistent than the others," his lordship said unamused as he watched Ben striving to meet the reporter halfway.

Ashfordly then shifted his focus to a man clad in police uniform. "Excuse me, constable, when I this debacle to end?" He asked.

"Whom am I speaking with, sir?" The man asked politely as he made his way over to stand next to the lordship.

"My name is Lord Ashfordly. And it's my estate you're invading. Now, I would like to know how much longer you'll be examining this mine. It attracts unwanted attention," Ashfordly waved lazily toward the small crowd of villagers watching at a distance and then Norton talking to the reporter.

"My apologies, sir," the officer, in his mid-forties said as he realized the man's importance. "My superior officer, Lt. Ames is leading this investigation. He will pack up as soon as he deems the site secured in terms of evidence."

"Forgive me, constable?" Ashfordly said, wanting the man to give his name.

"Sergeant Reed, sir," he replied.

Ashfordly nodded. "This is quite new for me. I'm not accustomed to having a small police force on my land. Besides I was under the impression that Sergeant Merton was to handle this since he's the man in charge of the police station covering Ashfordly and the little village called Aidensfield just down the road."

"We're acting under his command, sir and also directly under CID. We have reason to believe those two victims – one dead and one alive, are connected. Therefore this is a high risk case…"

"That's not what I wanted to hear," Ashfordly cut him off dryly.

The sergeant smirked. "Then I'll offer my apologies, my lordship. However, I can't say anything but the truth. If you wish to talk to Lt. Ames at length, I'll have him report to the Hall as soon as possible. Please be advised that it might take some time since he's to report to Sergeant Merton first."

Ashfordly let out a frustrated sigh but kept his appearance. However when he spoke, it was in clipped tones. "Sounds fair enough. Although I must caution you that I might have a word with my friend the Chief Constable before that."

"Then I must caution you, sir. We do not fall under the jurisdiction of the North Yorkshire Constabulary and therefore not under his command," the sergeant explained politely. "I will have my superior officer visit you later on as you wished. Have a good day, sir."

OOOOOO

Doctor Liz Merrick casually cast a glance at her wristwatch as Jack excused himself to hand her another cup of his refreshing tea. Ben had had to leave several hours earlier, courtesy of his job, as his lordship had needed him. However, Liz hadn't in her wildest fantasy thought she would still be at the goat farmer's place. She found herself to be a volunteering therapist. The man had opened up to her, it seemed he'd been wanting to open up to someone for years but hadn't really found anyone to confide in. Unfortunately he was the kind of proud man and former military man that didn't sought out help from the medical expertise unless he found it absolutely necessary. Also he'd stopped trusting the police force after the whole debacle with his brother's arrest, the disbanding of his family and the death of his wife. And in the entire village there seemed to be no friend of his.

He was as much of an outsider as she was despite he'd grown up at the place.

Liz was taken back by the graphic scenes he'd described of times in his military service and she also admonished the ways the bullies in school had diminished him to something not even worth the dirt under their shoes while the teacher had chosen to look the other way. She felt sick when she heard about his brother's family and their tragedy. He'd tried to move on but the goat business didn't exactly flourish. He was chased by old demons, the bank threatened to take the farm from him and no one wanted to give him a helping hand. The only person who seemed genuinely interested in his well-being had been his nephew, Jeremy Watson.

Now that the only person he'd grown fond of during the latter years had been found murdered not too far from him, he'd found it hard to move on. Jeremy's death had finally started tearing him apart and he'd resorted to the bottle he'd proudly laid to rest only a few years earlier.

"Jack," Liz said as the man came back and sat down beside her. "If you're willing I'd like to set up a meeting with a friend of mine down in London. He'll not help you but he'll guide you back so that you can have a life you're happy with."

He nodded, almost shamed, his eyes adverted from her.

"There is no shame in this, Jack, so please look at me," Liz said softly. "What you've been through shouldn't have been brought upon anyone. You took up a place in the military service to take out the bad guys, a kind of revenge for being bullied at school."

He nodded, his eyes finally meeting hers.

"But you saw things there you wasn't really ready for. You did things in the line of duty that still haunt you in your dreams, you killed others. You came back to a place where no one understood what you'd been going through and tried to take up your life the way it was before you left, although without the bullying," she guessed.

"If I let them take the farm. I might be able to go to London," he reasoned.

"No, we'll look after it. I'm sure I can round up some people who'd want to lend a hand. And don't worry about the money, like I said he's a friend of mine and the trip there as well as the accommodation can be arranged," she returned.

"You would do that for me?" he asked in awe, not quite believing her.

Liz smiled. "Just be ready to leave early tomorrow morning and I'll see to the rest," she said.

OOOOOO

To be continued

/Another chapter as requested ;)