Someone Who Isn't Me Read online

  Praise for Danuta Kot and Life Ruins

  ‘Life Ruins has all the elements I love in a novel – complex characters, an insidious underlying menace, and haunting landscapes. This dark story will suck you in from the first page’

  Stephen Booth, author of Fall Down Dead

  ‘A powerful, thought-provoking story, which perfectly evokes the bleak Yorkshire landscape… a vital read for any crime fan’

  Kate Rhodes, author of Ruin Beach

  ‘Explores real issues, from the perspective of real, damaged people, and told with a real warmth and understanding. Danuta Kot raises the bar for all crime writers’

  Michael Jecks, author of Pilgrim’s War

  ‘Powerful and thought provoking… I was hooked from start to finish’

  The Bookwormery

  ‘An atmospheric story that will draw you effortlessly into the pages’

  Hooked from Page One

  ‘Engrossing and chilling, [Life Ruins] is the perfect read for a winter’s evening where the mind can roam upon the lives and troubles of others’

  Shots Magazine

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  To my husband, Ken,

  who died on November 25th 2019.

  Then,

  As sudden silence fell, a kestrel,

  An armstretch away, flung against the sun

  And flaunted a moment vivid rustglow and flickering wing

  Before a graceful bank, a swoop, a swishing dive

  Took it beyond.

  From A Dying, by Ken Reah

  Chapter 1

  Sunk Island

  Andy Yeatson was twenty-four, and he was becoming more and more certain that he was going to die.

  Tonight.

  He shifted on the back seat of the car as though he was trying to get comfortable and touched the door to feel where the lock was. ‘How long is this going to take?’ he asked. The girl who was driving didn’t respond.

  The woman in the front passenger seat half turned her head. ‘Don’t worry. It isn’t far now.’ He caught her gaze in the mirror. There was something in her face that sent a chill through him. This woman was dangerous.

  How the fuck had he got into this mess? And how was he going to get out of it? He’d been stupid, letting himself get distracted. He hadn’t been thinking about his own safety – he’d been worried about Becca. She hadn’t been replying to his texts. Maybe she was just pissed off with him, but if he was right, if his boss DS Mark Curwen was right, things were starting to kickoff at the pub where she worked, and some nasty people went in there.

  It was a vile night – heavy rain whipped up by one of the storms that battered the town at this time of year. He should have stayed at his desk where he was supposed to be, but the worry kept nagging at him until he’d shoved his chair away, muttered vaguely about checking something out, headed for his car and driven off. He’d decided not to park near the pub – he was supposed to keep out of Becca’s way for the next few days and he didn’t want anyone spotting him there, but at this time of night, he could just park a couple of streets away, nip in, say hi and make sure she was OK.

  He’d been walking along the road thinking about Becca, keeping to the wall for what shelter it gave, when the woman called to him.

  ‘Hey! Andy!’ He’d looked round and seen the car on the other side of the road. He knew the woman who was leaning out of the front passenger window, or knew her a bit – the girlfriend of one of his pub contacts. Harmless.

  Or so he’d thought.

  ‘You going to the pub? Want a lift?’

  He was cold, he was worried, he wasn’t thinking. So just like that, he’d got in. The woman was in the front passenger seat, a girl he hadn’t seen before was behind the wheel. He’d heard the clunk of the central locking, and realised, too late, he was trapped. ‘What’s happening?’ he’d said.

  The woman had turned and smiled. ‘What you wanted. We’re going to meet Stoner.’

  Shit, shit and shit again. He’d been in the pub night after night, posing as a buyer, someone after a big deal. He’d been waiting for the meet, and as soon as it was set up, he was supposed to alert his colleagues and get the backup he’d need.

  Instead, he was stuck in the car, heading south. No one knew where he was, and there was no one to give him support. He’d made a mistake, and now his mistake could kill him.

  Or could it? As far as they were concerned, he was just a small-time dealer who was trying to move into the big time. Maybe they were just going to make him an offer, and all of this was just to be sure there was no one following him.

  Or… what if they knew he was a cop?

  The woman chatted in a desultory manner as they drove down the road that followed the coast south. The girl said nothing, just followed the woman’s directions. Andy caught her eye in the mirror once and smiled at her. She went a bit pink and looked away. She was a pretty girl with a mop of fair hair – seemed too nice to be hanging out with this lot.

  He had a choice. Go through with the meeting, play dumb. Tell them that he couldn’t do a deal like this with no warning. They couldn’t just kidnap him off the streets and expect him to come through.

  But they knew that, and they’d done it anyway.

  He glanced out of the back window, and realised someone was following them. He’d been aware of a motorbike in the road behind them for a while, but instead of passing them and driving on, it stayed about forty metres behind, shadowing them all the way. The rider wasn’t concealing himself, just keeping steadily on the same route as they headed further south. The woman must have been aware of it, but she didn’t comment.

  The girl who was driving asked, ‘Why do we need to go all this way?’

  ‘Do I pay you to ask questions?’ the woman snapped.

  Andy listened with half an ear, looking out for landmarks as they drove down the coast, the bike a constant, on their tail.

  The fair-haired girl didn’t look like a threat, so it was him against the woman and the unknown biker. Time to change the odds.

  They were close to Hornsea. He reached surreptitiously into his pocket for his phone. It would blow the operation out of the water, but he had to send for help.

  But the woman was watching him. ‘I’ll have that,’ she said. ‘You’ll get it back.’

  If he pressed the emergency button now, she’d see, and it could take as much as half an hour for his colleagues to locate the phone and get here. They’d still have time to disable the phone, get rid of him, and drive off. Reluctantly, he drew it out of his pocket and handed it over.

  The woman looked at it. ‘Yours?’

  He’d recently changed his screen image to one of Mia at her first birthday party, holding a balloon and grinning. Now he wished he hadn’t. ‘Yeah.’ He wasn’t discussing Mia with her, with any of them.

  ‘You’re doing this for your kid? Cute.’ Her mockery made him angry, but it gave him hope – she was talking as though the deal was on, as though he hadn’t been blown. Maybe, just maybe, he was going to get away with this.

  She fiddled with the phone for a bit, checking his contacts, his messages – but there was nothing there that could worry her. To his surprise, she handed it back to him. She’d taken the battery out but given it back with the handset, and the tension released a bit more.

  Focus, he told himself. If it’s the meeting with Stoner, then just go along
with it. Play a bit angry about the way they picked you up. If it’s something else, then you get away. You can do this.

  The road stretched ahead between flat, empty fields. He hadn’t seen a building for miles. If they kept going this way, they’d end up in the Humber Estuary.

  His stomach gave a lurch. He didn’t like the thought of the estuary.

  The lights caught a road sign as they passed a junction – one narrow lane meeting another narrow lane; Stone Creek Road – and then it was gone.

  And now the car was slowing. Andy felt the bump and sway of rough ground. The car lights illuminated a low, red-brick wall. Beyond, still some distance away, he saw the gleam of water.

  His fears were confirmed. The estuary. They had arrived.

  The car drew to a halt, the bike pulling up behind it. The woman got out. ‘Doc,’ she said. There was no surprise in her voice. She’d obviously known all along who their shadow was. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to join us.’

  The biker, Doc, grinned at her as he stretched. ‘Thought you might need me.’

  Andy was caught off guard. This was Doc? Doc was one of the dealers he’d been trying to contact for weeks – and now it turned out he’d known the guy all along. Doc looked relaxed and affable and just for a second, Andy thought it was going to be OK… But then he caught a glimpse of the woman’s face. One look at her hungry, avid expression told him he all he needed to know.

  His cover was blown and they’d decided to get rid of him.

  He heard the clunk of the central locking system being switched off and reached for the car door to get out. Now he had to bring all his training into play. He pulled himself slowly out of the car, mapping in his head the location of the people around him.

  Doc, standing behind him; the woman, moving a bit too eagerly round to his side of the car so he’d be boxed in; the girl still sitting in the driver’s seat. And somewhere around, this other guy, this Stoner, might be waiting. He was outnumbered – surprise and speed were the only things that would save him.

  Make a plan. Now.

  In front of him, dimly lit by the moon, was an inlet. Andy could see small boats pulled up in the mud and make out the name painted on the bows of one: Joie de Vivre. It was the perfect place to bring drugs in. Small boats, going in and out of the estuary, never going far afield – who’d even take a second look these days when the coastguard had been cut to nothing?

  He’d had no idea this place even existed. This was information he needed to pass on – if he could.

  Surprise and speed. Behind him was the bridge they had just crossed. That was the way back to the road, and it was the way they’d expect him to go. Opposite him on the other side of the car, there seemed to be nothing but a deep tangle of undergrowth.

  But there was a fingerpost.

  That meant there was a path. There had to be.

  His few options raced through his mind. Over the bridge and into the water? The tide was coming in. He’d drown in the currents and the lethal mud. That way was closed. The fingerpost? It would be a massive gamble. Any path might be too overgrown to follow. Back along the road? They’d be expecting that and they’d try to stop him, but it looked like his best bet. He’d have to move fast and keep going.

  He took a second quick look round. He’d have one chance, and he’d have to get it right.

  But there was a man standing on the bridge. Andy’s way was blocked. Then the man turned, and as Andy saw his face, relief flooded through him. He knew this guy. He was OK, he was a mate – and then the chill came back. This wasn’t a mate at all.

  This must be Stoner.

  He’d known them all these past few weeks, and he hadn’t realised. He’d thought he’d been mixing with the small-timers, the help, and now, because he’d got it so wrong, he was going to die.

  Unless he had a plan.

  The fingerpost. It was the only way.

  Now!

  He could feel the adrenaline flooding through him. Time slowed down. Even though there was only the moon to light the scene, everything around him seemed bright and clear as daylight.

  He could hear the sound of Doc moving closer behind him, and he braced himself.

  Andy’s foot shot out as he spun, delivering his kick straight into Doc’s knee. Doc dropped to the ground, his mouth gaping. Andy cracked the second kick into his groin and then he was vaulting over the car, sliding over the roof and onto the ground. He dodged the man on the bridge – who moved forward just too late to stop him – and ran, feeling the long grass catching at his feet. He’d been right. His gamble had paid off. There was a path along the top of an embankment where the fingerpost stood.

  It was barely a chance, but if he could get far enough away, he could find a house, find somewhere to hide, call in for help.

  As he reached the top of the embankment, he glanced back. Doc was struggling to his feet, still doubled over, his hands clutched over his balls. Andy could hear a stream of curses apparently aimed at the other man, who was trying to help Doc up.

  The girl was half out of the car, frozen.

  There was no sign of the woman.

  Andy spun round and forced himself to move faster. He wasn’t a sprinter, but if he could put the distance between them, he could keep going. He headed east along the embankment. Try and cut across to the road? No. He could tell from the gleams of water that the land was criss-crossed by drains. It was probably marshy as well. He couldn’t risk getting cut off. He was better off higher up.

  For the moment.

  He couldn’t work out which way to go. There were no lights, no buildings, just the dim shadows of flat expanses and the occasional glint of water running in straight lines across the land.

  Now he knew where he was. He was in Sunk Island; the marshy area near the mouth of the estuary where only the drains kept the land from flooding. Almost no one lived here. There were just scattered farms and isolated buildings, and vast expanses of emptiness.

  If they hadn’t seen which way he went, then he might make it.

  The path was leading down now, away from the exposed embankment.

  His chest was starting to burn. He needed his second wind as he pushed himself forward, listening all the time for the sound of footsteps behind him, or a car engine shadowing him from the road.

  Where were they? What the fuck were they doing? He slowed down. There was no sign of pursuit, but they must be after him. They must be somewhere. Where the fuck were they?

  The estuary gleamed below him, a barrier he couldn’t pass, but he could see something ahead of him. Trees.

  Trees, here on the emptiest part of the coast? But trees could hide him. He could climb, get up high where he could see all around, stay safe and make his way back in the morning.

  He fumbled in his pockets and pulled out his phone. It took seconds to get the battery in place, but then he had to wait as it powered up. What else did he have with him to help him through the night? Cigarettes, but he couldn’t risk smoking. Some gum – that would help to fool the thirst and the hunger.

  His phone chimed the start-up signal. Right. Right. His fingers were clumsy with urgency as he pressed the keys – call it in, officer down, they’d be here from Hull in twenty minutes, less.

  But nothing happened. The signal was gone.

  He looked around him. The path stretched away from him in either direction, empty and featureless. Beside him, he could hear the surge of water, the vast and powerful estuary. The trees were the only place to hide.

  Then he heard the beat of a bike engine. Cars couldn’t cross this ground, but a bike could.

  This was it. They were coming. They must know the area well. They knew the path and they just had to get ahead of him.

  He spun round and was running, away from the trees, away from the direction of the sound, anywhere.

  What was that? A flicker of movement in the darkness close by! He veered away, and something hit him hard. It felt like someone had punched him in the side. He staggered, almost
fell, then regained his momentum.

  Run.

  He was in the open, on a concrete hardstanding, a mesh fence between him and the surging waters of the estuary. A deep culvert at his feet cut the hardstanding in two.

  Nowhere to go! He had to keep—

  All the strength drained out of his legs. He sank to his knees. There was pain – he’d been aware and not aware of it – was he having a heart attack? He fumbled at his chest, then stared in bewilderment at his hand, stained with a dark, shiny substance…

  Blood.

  He tried to get back to his feet, but his legs wouldn’t do what he wanted them to. He was gasping, as if the air he was sucking in wasn’t air at all and… It was like he was watching from a long way away, and it was OK. He was dancing with Becca, watching the way her hair swung round her face as she moved. Oh, Jesus. Had he got her into trouble as well? He was singing to Mia as he bathed her. Row, row, row… If you see a crocodile, don’t forget to scream… and Mia was laughing, laughing…

  He couldn’t find the breath to scream.

  He fell forwards, face down on the cracked, dirty ground, and a dark stain spread out around him, running in trickles into the drain as the rain kept on falling.

  Chapter 2

  The land where the South Holderness plain meets the north Humber foreshore lies in deep isolation; a flat, waterlogged landscape formed over the centuries from the mud of the estuary.

  Sunk Island.

  Detective Sergeant Mark Curwen left his car by the side of the road and followed the straight line of a drain towards the water that glittered in the early morning light. After the heavy rain, the ground sucked at his feet as if the sea was trying once more to reclaim this land. Ahead, he could see the solitary figure of the constable standing guard over the scene.

  He was here to do a job he didn’t want to do.

  ‘Where are they?’ he asked after flashing his ID at the constable. He took the mandatory white coveralls and overshoes from the man and pulled them on.

  ‘It’s over this way, sir. Near that fence, right by the river – or the sea, I don’t know…’