Free Hunted by Heather Atkinson

big in every way - he must have been at least six foot two with a huge paunch overhanging his black trousers, the expensive shirt straining at the seams to contain him.
    “Hello gentlemen, I’m Gerard Kerrell, I own this company” he said, extending his hand.
    Ryan shook his hand firmly, trying not to grimace when he found it cold and clammy.
    “Mr Law, I believe we met before at a charity auction in Exeter,” said Gerard amiably.
    “That’s right, we did. You bid on a nice little cabin cruiser,” replied Ryan.
    “Which you won. I hope you’re enjoying it?”
    “Very much. It’s moored at Dartmouth. The kids love it.”
    “Good, good. If you’ll come this way,” said Gerard, leading them into his office, which was large and extravagant with a good view of the Torquay United football ground. Not that Ryan was impressed, he loathed the game. Where was the fun in watching a bunch of overpaid, over-gelled prima donnas kicking a sphere of leather about? He’d never understand it.
    “Drink gentleman?” offered Gerard.
    All three refused.
    Gerard was a strange looking man with his big round baby face, the flesh of his cheeks pink and wobbly but his small dark eyes were very serious and sparked with intelligence. He appeared disappointed that none of them wanted a drink and reluctantly replaced the whisky tumbler he’d been holding on the massive mahogany drinks cabinet.
    “So, what can I do for you?” said Gerard, sinking into the huge leather chair behind his desk.
    “We want to talk to you about the recent discovery the builders made on my property,” began Ryan.
    “Excuse me?” he said, looking puzzled.
    “The body.”
    Gerard frowned at Battler. “You’re not here to discuss a business deal?”
    Ryan shook his head.
    “I was led to believe this meeting was to discuss a contract,” he said, directing his wrath at Battler.
    “I’m sorry if that’s the impression you got Sir but it’s not the one I meant to give,” replied Battler.
    “Why do you want to talk to me? I don’t know anything about it.”
    “It was put there when your company were building the annex on my land,” said Ryan.
    “Do you think I work on every site?” retorted Gerard, annoyed. “Course not. I have lots of people to do that for me so I don’t know what you want me to tell you. Anyway, I’ve already gone through all this with the police, so why are you here?”
    “Because that body was on my property, near my family and I want to be sure they aren’t in any danger,” said Ryan.
    “Why would they be in danger?” he said, genuinely puzzled.
    “I’m a man who doesn’t take any chances.”
    “What do you want from me? Nothing’s changed since I last spoke to the police. None of my staff have stepped up and said by the way Mr Kerrell, I killed someone seven years ago and stuffed them into the foundations of the annex we were building.”
    Ryan rolled his eyes at this melodramatic display.
    “We want to know who had access to that site,” said Battler.
    “Everyone had access to that site,” he exclaimed. “If you hadn’t noticed the annex backed onto farmland and woodland. Anyone could have waited until my men had left for the day then snuck in and stuck that body in the wet concrete. The family who owned the house at the time could even have done it. Actually, if I were you I’d be looking closer at the Marsh’s, I wouldn’t put it past them.”
    The Marsh’s were the family who owned the neighbouring farm, their land backed onto Ryan’s own.
    “Now that’s very interesting, why do you say that?” said Ryan.
    “You’re not from round here so you’ve probably not heard about Chris Marsh’s preferences.”
    “What preferences?” said Ryan impatiently.
    “He was questioned about the disappearance of Daniel Tebbs. Daniel was gay, he made no secret of it and Chris - even though he’s been married for years - likes the boys, especially young, attractive ones. He was interviewed by the police when