Chapter Text
Despite what he said to Danny Waldron, Steve Arnott did run. So that morning, after putting a load of washing into the machine, he dressed in his running clothes, turned on the app, put his mobile into the arm holder, and set off for a run.
There was nothing else to do mid-morning on a rare day off. He’d swapped with Kate, taking a Saturday shift instead of her so that she could see Josh. It wasn’t like he had anything special to do on weekends. After splitting with Sam, his weekends stretched out before him like endless hours of torture. Sure, sometimes he went to a football match, and sometimes he drove down south to see his parents or sister, but mainly weekends were about washing, making meals to put in the freezer for when he couldn’t be bothered (or didn’t have time) to cook, and wiling away the hours in front of the TV.
As he ran up his street and approached the corner, he had to decide whether to head left, towards the park, or right, down towards the center of town. Park today, he decided. He liked to vary his routes, sometimes even driving down to the river for a run along its banks. But today, a sunny but chilly November day, the park would do just fine.
Running gave him time to think. As his feet pounded the pavement it was just him and the occasional announcement by the electronic voice in his phone of how many kilometers he had run. He tried not to think about his cases on his runs, but inevitably he did. At the moment he was glad that he had nothing worse than some coppers looking at porn on their station computers and some valuables going missing from evidence rooms. After all that had happened in the summer, after being framed for murder, he was glad that his caseload wasn’t too taxing. Yet, at the same time, nothing was really stretching him, challenging him.
Maybe that was why he wasn’t on full alert as he continued towards the park, running through the massive wrought-iron gates that marked its entrance. He ran on the path that circuited the grassy part, heading past the flower beds and towards the children’s playing area. From here, it was just a short way down to the duck pond, after which he could continue onwards, leaving the park through the other exit so that he didn’t have to double back on himself.
Between the children’s play area and the duck pond was a patch of trees that blocked the weak winter sunlight. As he ran under their branches them, looking forward to getting back into the sun again, for the little warmth it would offer, the voice rang out, informing him that he had run two kilometers. At that same moment, while he was listening to the time it had taken him to run that distance and how many calories he had supposedly burned, an arm grabbed him, pulling him into the trees.
He wasn’t expecting it, and he didn’t fight back soon enough. He realized both those things as he struggled against the arms that were pulling him deeper into the undergrowth. But it was no use, the arms had him tight, and another person was raining down blows on him. He couldn’t move, as much as he tried, and he was pushed down to the floor, where the blows turned into kicks.
“Alright. Leave off. Let’s get him to the pond,” said the voice from behind him. “Macky won’t like this.”
“Sod Macky,” replied the other voice. “I’m having fun!” And with that statement Steve took another kick to the ribs and heard something crack. He understood, distantly, that the sound couldn’t be good, but he didn’t register any pain. He was too busy struggling and trying to think of a way to get away.
“Come on, man. Give it up.”
One more sharp kick, to the legs this time, and he was being dragged away, towards the pond. He tried to shout out, but a hand covered his mouth. He bit down on it, hard, and the hand pulled away quickly.
“Fucker bit me!” The voice complained.
“What are you, a bloody baby? Get over it,” responded the other.
Instead, Steve felt his arms yanked behind him, his shoulder popping out of place. He tried to ignore the pain and the stars in front of his eyes, taking the opportunity of the other man’s distraction to struggle out of his grasp and run a few steps. But before he could get far his legs gave out on him and in moments he was again being dragged toward the pond.
###
Emily Clark hated running. She did it to keep fit, and for the high she got after it, but she hated every minute of it. Just make it end, she would say to herself, repeatedly, as she ran, like a chant. Just make it end. Today was no different. When a window in her work schedule allowed it, she saved the document she was working on, changed into her running clothes, and set out for a run. Just forty minutes, she told herself, encouragingly, trying to believe she could go out into the November cold and do this.
With pink wooly gloves and bobble hat to keep her warm, she ran past the shops and towards the park. It wouldn’t be busy at this time of day, she thought to herself. Only some stay-at-home mums with little kids in the children’s play area, and maybe an old couple or two out to look at the flower beds. And so it was. The park was almost empty. She saw another runner in the distance, sprinting away much faster than she could ever hope to achieve. She looked down at her sports watch to check her own time. Not bad, but not great. When she looked up, the path ahead of her was clear. Either he’d taken a short cut or was that bloody fast. Another reason to hate running. She just wasn’t very good at it.
Sighing internally, she promised herself she’d skirt around the pond, do an entire lap of the park and then head home. She was nearing twenty minutes, meaning almost halfway there. One foot in front of the other, she kept focusing on the movement, trying to find her rhythm. It often took her at least half the run to do so.
Thinking about the warm shower waiting for her at home, Emily tried to increase her pace. And it was then that she heard it. Splashing and voices down by the duck pond. If it were summer, that noise wouldn’t have alarmed her, but in the November chill the water would be freezing. For an instant she thought about ignoring it, keeping going. But she quickly dismissed that idea. What if a kid had fallen into the water, she thought to herself, swerving off the path and through the undergrowth to get to the pond quicker.
She crashed out of the trees, breaking sticks under her feet, breathing heavily, only to see figures in the water. There were two people in the water. Up to their knees. They were doing something under the water, she couldn’t quite make out what. But before she had a chance to think too much, her noisy entry alerted them to her presence.
“Shit, man. We’re outta here!” One called to the other, before they both set off, splashing away from her.
It was then that she saw what they had been doing – holding another figure under the water. The figure, now no longer being held down, floated to the surface. Running on instinct only, Emily waded into the pond, grabbing the figure under its arms and dragging it back to the muddy shallows. She saw now that it was a man, and heavens he was heavy, but she heaved as fast as she could, soaked through up to her thighs, until she reached the muddy grass.
Falling onto the ground next to him, Emily tried to remember what you were supposed to do in these situations. She’d never had first aid training, but surely she’d seen enough TV shows to know what to do, she thought to herself. ABC? Wasn’t that it. Airway, breathing, compressions. Or maybe not? At any rate she checked for breathing and couldn’t hear any. So she did what she’d seen them do on Baywatch all those years ago and breathed into his mouth. Twice. When that didn’t do anything, she tried again, and this time was rewarded with coughing and spluttering, disgusting pond water coming up. She rolled him with great effort on to his side (she was pretty sure they did that too in the movies) before pulling her gloves off and fumbling for her phone.
Here was another thing she’d never done before. Call 999. The operator asked her what service she need. The words poured out of her in a flow, telling the operator too much yet nothing. The operator tried to calm her as Emily tried desperately to explain her location. The guy was still coughing up water and was now shaking, she guessed from cold (or shock). So she stripped off her running jacket and used it to cover him.
It felt like an age until the ambulance came. The kindly operator stayed on the line the entire time, as Emily tried to do as she was told, checking for injuries, trying to coax the guy into coming round. But the adrenalin was wearing off and she was starting to shiver herself and wonder how an ordinary day had turned into this.