Chapter 58
Travelodge Hotel
Filton
Bristol
7.57 p.m.
Howie and Markland lay spread out on their individual beds. The room was cold, stark and sterile. Almost like a carpeted hospital room. Both men didn’t relish the idea of spending a night in the same room together, but agreed that they had little choice.
Markland had seen enough budget hotels in his career to never want to stay in one again.
An hour earlier, Howie had opened the doors to the school. They’d crept to the office where the petty cash was kept, and were relieved to find the key to the safe was kept beneath the same white pot with the spider plant. Again, there was cash in the safe. This time Markland took just over two hundred pounds.
Because the money had been there, Markland didn’t feel like he and Howie were really stealing from the school as he was sure that in at least one of the many parallel worlds the money would be left untouched. Even so, he made sure that his and Howie’s finger prints were wiped from the key, the handle of the safe and the plant pot. He was constantly looking over his shoulder and Howie had sensed his nervousness.
It was Markland’s idea to book into the hotel as they had nowhere else to go. He had no intention of returning to his home for the night as he didn’t know what to expect. Perhaps in this version of the world he may not even live in the same house. He suggested that it was probably best for Howie not to return to his flat either. When Howie asked why, Markland had difficulty explaining.
“Why don’t you do a bit of snooping?” suggested Howie.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a computer in reception. Perhaps we could find something about this world which may be an advantage to us.”
“What a cracking idea Howie, why didn’t I think of that?”
Five minutes later, both men were hunched over the computer. The first thing Markland searched for was himself.
“I don’t believe it!” he exclaimed in a low voice.
“What?”
“I’m Detective Superintendent!”
“So in this world you made it beyond a detective.”
“So it would seem.”
He carried on searching, and found a picture of him at the opening of Kenneth Steele House, in which was the Avon and Somerset Constabulary’s incident room where he’d spent thousands of hours of his working life as a detective.
“Hey, I even get a name check when the building was opened.”
Markland grinned inwardly and continued to search the internet. After a few minutes he became struck by a thought.
Howie watched over Markland’s shoulder as he typed at the computer. The screen displayed a report. Howie strained his eyes to read it.
“Shit, this can’t be true!” exclaimed Markland.
“That’s the newspaper report on Ben Walker’s murder isn’t it,” stated Howie.
Markland nodded and read the report.
“Yes, and if you care to read it, you’ll see that I’m not the detective on the case.”
“It’s Detective Inspector Tom Strawbridge and Sergeant Colin Matthews,” said Howie, skimming the report.
“In my world Strawbridge was taken ill the morning of Ben Walker’s murder, and I was drafted in with Matthews at the last minute.”
Markland dug deeper, and scoured the internet for more information.
“Shit!” snapped Markland, as he read another entry, which had been posted within the past few months.
“Ben’s killer hasn’t been found in this world. Daniel Boyd must still be out and about.”
The two men fell silent as their thoughts rubbed.
Markland opened up his email account to compose a message.
“What are you doing?” asked Howie.
Markland didn’t reply. He paused for inspiration and then continued to write.
Howie watched Markland from over the ex-detective’s shoulder as he proceeded with the email. After a few minutes Markland stopped, and read what he’d written. Howie trailed behind, until he’d also read Markland’s message.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Of course it is. Daniel Boyd is still at large, and so are Paul Green and Stuart Moss, who were also involved in the murder. I have a duty to send this to Matthews. He needs to close this case.” Markland paused mid-sentence. “Don’t you see? In this world I had no involvement in the case, and I had no guidance from the burial mound …….. the hill.”
“But what if in this world someone else murdered Ben Walker? What if it wasn’t Boyd and the others?”
Markland contemplated what Howie had suggested, quickly dismissed his thought and pressed send.
“Too late, I’ve sent it,” said Markland, as he was about to close the browser.
Howie became overpowered with a sense of duty and responsibility.
“Markland, we can’t just swan around from world to world changing things. You’ve already been involved with getting John Armstrong accused of something, which in another world he may not be guilty of. I don’t think we should be messing around with stuff which shouldn’t involve us.”
“STUFF WHICH SHOULDN’T INVOLVE US!” shouted Markland. “May I remind you, that if not for you, we wouldn’t be hopping from world to world!”
“I know, but I don’t think we should be meddling with these things. We ended up in this position to right a wrong, which was due to James and that’s what we should concentrate on.”
“Don’t forget about Jodie.”
“I’ve not forgotten about Jodie. Not for one second.”
“Well, Jodie is our priority. Before we concentrate on anything else we need to somehow find her and bring her back.”
“But how are we going to do that?”
Markland shook his head, stood up and was about to close the browser for a second time, when Howie pushed passed and reached for the keyboard.
“What are you doing?” asked Markland.
“The same as you. I’d like to find out a bit about this world. I’m going to have a quick look on Facebook, see what I’m up to.”
“That’s probably not a good idea.”
“Why not, you just had a good snoop around, why shouldn’t I?”
“Just because….” said Markland, his voice trailing off.
“I really don’t think you should.”
There was a brief tussle, and Markland pulled the keyboard away from Howie.
“What’s the matter with you?”
Markland sighed.
“If you log on to Facebook, there’s a pretty good chance they’ll find you. Your location will be known.”
“Who’ll find me, who are you talking about?”
“Come on, let’s get back to the room. We need to talk.”
“About what?” demanded Howie.
“Let’s go back to our room. In fact, it’s probably a good idea that you steer clear of the reception area and anywhere else you might be recognised.”
Markland hastily headed to their room and Howie followed behind.
Ten minutes later Howie blew air through his cheeks. Markland had told him about the telephone conversation with Nicola at the school and how, in this world, Howie had killed John Armstrong and was wanted by the police.
“Is this something you could see yourself being involved in?” asked Markland, slipping back into detective mode.
“Murder! You think I would murder someone? Absolutely not.”
“But you didn’t like Armstrong did you?”
“No, I thought he was horrible. We all did. Everyone knew what he was up to, but there was not enough evidence to pin on the pervy little bastard.”
“So it seems in this world, you’re a wanted man. This isn’t going to make things any easier for us.”
Howie had the feeling that Markland was blaming him for Armstrong’s murder, and that
it was his fault that they were in the position they now found themselves in.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure things will be fine. Hopefully we won’t be in this world for long. Let’s just pray you’ve not killed him in any other worlds where we may find ourselves. I’ll buy a baseball cap and a pair of dark glasses for you to wear, just in case someone recognises you.”
Markland lay on the bed and rubbed his temples.
“I’m getting very, very confused. I can’t keep track of the last few days. Is it still only Friday?”
Howie nodded. But was also confused and was having difficulty piecing together the events between Wednesday and now.
Markland grabbed a sheet of complimentary notepaper and scribbled something down.
“What are you doing?”
Markland didn’t answer. He continued to write. Occasionally, he paused for reflection, before continuing to jot on the sheet of A5 paper.
“It’s a timeline of everything that’s happened since Wednesday. Kind of like another breadcrumb trail. I think we need to note everything that’s happened since we came to the woods two days ago. We may need this to recall the chain of events.”
Howie read Markland’s scrawl.
“Shit, has all this happened in the last few days?”
“Unless you can think of anything I’ve missed.”
“Well, I suppose there is something you’ve left out, which might be kind of important.”
“What?”
“Yesterday, when we were in the world where we saw Helena and Dean in Exeter. When we drove back to Bristol, we diverted past your house……. and your wife ……. was with the policeman……. Munroe…..,” said Howie, in a nervous tone.
“Yeah, yeah ….. but I don’t think I need to note that down,” snapped Markland.
“That’s not what I mean. It’s not that she was with the policeman, it was because he was consoling her because you had gone missing. I think it’s important that you make a note of it.”
Markland nodded, snatched back the paper and jotted down some more words.
“It’s some kind of drag in the timeline I guess,” said Markland, placing the paper on his bed.
“What do you mean?”
“James went missing for four days, and when he returned he’d come from a parallel world. Yesterday, in a different world, I too had gone missing. I guess each time we jump from world to world, the version of us in that world, has to swap, and that takes a few days.”
“So does that mean the version of me, who’s on the run for murdering Armstrong, is in another world?”
“I presume so. I guess you’ve got away with murder, Howie.”
He was struck by a thought and let out a sharp exhalation.
“When you rang the school and asked about Jodie, you said she was in school today. How can that be? She’s jumped worlds so why isn’t she missing.”
“Because she hasn’t come to this world with us, I presume she’s still in the world where she was abducted by Drew Lees,” Markland paused mid-sentence, while he thought things through. “If she hadn’t been taken and had jumped to this world with us, I presume she would be missing here…….. for three or perhaps four days.”
“I could do with a drink…. you know, a strong one.”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We need to keep our heads clear. There’s a vending machine along the corridor. I’ll get us a couple of bottles of mineral water.”
Howie nodded.
“You do that. I’m heading for the shower. I need to freshen up.”
Markland made his way to the vending machine, whilst Howie took a shower. The ex-detective’s head was reeling. Things were too difficult to comprehend. He watched the machine drop two bottles of water into the dispenser, scooped them out and headed back to the room.
He used the swipe card to open the door, strolled in and placed one of the bottles on the television table. From the corner of his eye, he saw Howie sitting on the edge of his bed.
“I thought you were going to have a shower,” said Markland, trying to loosen the lid of the bottle. He cursed at the plastic seal which refused to budge.
“Hello Mr Garraway.”
Markland stopped in his tracks. He recognised the voice. Although the last time he’d heard it, it sounded very different.
He saw who was on the bed and dropped the bottle spilling water over the carpet.
He recognised the young, handsome, fair-haired man immediately. Although this was the first time he’d come face to face with him.
“What the fuck!” exclaimed Markland, when he realised who he was.
The man stood up and held out his hand to Markland.
“Sir, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Markland’s vision blurred, and his ears thud as his heart pumped hard in his chest. His knees buckled and he landed with a thud on the soft carpet.
The bathroom door opened and Howie walked out with a towel wrapped around him. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Markland unconscious and a stranger knelt over him.
The fair-haired man, who appeared to be a year or two younger than Howie, smiled. It took a few seconds for recognition to sink in. When Howie remembered where he'd seen the man, he couldn't believe his eyes. He'd seen his photograph in a book he'd recently read. The book was called ‘The Man Who Caught His Killer’.
Howie swallowed hard and cleared his throat before attempting to speak.
"I don't understand ....... how can this be?"
The man smiled warmly as Howie weighed up the situation.
"You're.... you're Ben.....?" said Howie, his voice trailing off.
"That's right Howie. I'm Ben. Ben Walker."
THE END OF BOOK ONE
To continue reading Dreamwalkers, Please source on-line Dreamwalkers - Book Two – The Ghost Returns.
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