Page 23 of The Other Side

Chapter Five

Drum’s head ached. He’d desperately wanted to ask Osian more but he was still on duty. He had no choice but to respond to the call. If he dismissed all that Osian had told him, Drum had still felt a tug of attraction. With those jeans hanging from his narrow hips and a white T-shirt that looked as though it had been spray-painted onto his lean body, he ticked all of Drum’s boxes. That dirty blond hair was catnip, as were his green eyes. Though he looked much younger than Drum. Early twenties, not late. Different time, different place…

Except… Drum couldn’t dismiss all that Osian had told him. The guy was trouble. He knew too much about Drum, enough to make him anxious, though not to the point of a panic attack. He just had to find out how Osian knew about the note in his pocket and what it said, and how he came to have the same bracelet. Those two things shouted trap but it still didn’t make sense. Osian played in the band, lived in the area, had a garden inside his house. He hadn’t been sent by Jackson Ashford. No one knew about Drum’s bracelet. He hadn’t worn it for two years. Not until he was in rehab. Maybe Ashford had been having him watched in Clover House. Oh God.

If he didn’t stop thinking about it, he was going to have a crash, for real and mentally. He pulled his head back in gear.

Luckily the sheep incident was only a couple of miles from Blackthorne Farm, in the opposite direction to Sparlow, and as he rounded the hill, he saw two vehicles in a layby with their lights on. A car and a van. Drum pulled up behind them, put on his hi-vis jacket and hat and got out. He snapped pictures of the number plates as he walked towards three men. Ah, teenage boys.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Drum asked.

Though it was obvious. They already had one sheep in the back of the van and were tussling with another.

“They belong to us,” said the one in tight jeans.

“Then you won’t mind giving me your names and addresses.” Drum snapped more pictures.

“Fuck off,” snarled a boy with curly hair.

Drum wondered if they’d been drinking.

“Put them back in the field,” Drum said. “Don’t be stupid.”

One of them dragged the sheep out of the van, but let it go, then ran forward to the car and zoomed off. The other two released the sheep they were holding, slammed the doors of the van shut and skedaddled too, which left Drum with two sheep loose on the road. Shit. His experience with livestock was zero. Though according to Osian he’d had a dog.

Drum stared at the sheep. They stared back. One of them baaed.

“Brilliant,” Drum muttered. “Excellent police work. Three suspects escaped and I’ve arrested the witnesses.”

Not that he was supposed to arrest anyone. Not that he could arrest anyone. The sheep seemed unimpressed in any case.

He glanced down the dark road. No sign of any vehicles. He could call for backup, but he already knew exactly how that conversation would go at this time of night and the reputation he’d get.

“Control, I’ve interrupted a livestock theft.”

“Any suspects detained?”

“Negative.”

“Any victims injured?”

“Negative.”

“Current situation?”

“I’m standing in the road with two sheep trying to convince them to go back into the field and I need help.”

The laughter would be loud. Then whoever came out would be pissed to hell about having to drive out here.

The larger sheep wandered over and began investigating the reflective strip on his jacket.

“No,” Drum said firmly.

The sheep ignored him and attempted to eat it.

“Oi!”

It chewed faster. Drum grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and immediately regretted it as the animal lurched sideways with surprising force. He staggered after it, boots slipping on the wet grass at the side of the road. The second sheep took this as an invitation to head in the opposite direction.