40

He explained it all on the way. Happy Harry had been spotted by a farmer, who had been spoken to by a uniformed officer. He was one of many who had been asked to keep an eye out for the homeless man, who might have been one of the last people ever to see Alice Teale alive while he was rooting around in the bins. Though it was late, cold and raining, Black didn’t want to delay the search or give the man any chance to leave the area.

‘Aren’t we supposed to call for back-up in situations like this?’

Black snorted. ‘To question an old wino? You’re joking, right? We’d never hear the last of it. No, we’ll just have a look up there and see if we can find him, then bring him in.’

They drove out to the edge of the woods which bordered the farmland and parked their car in a layby next to a gate which led to a track that divided the woodland. ‘This is it,’ he told her, ‘the lane where Harry was spotted.’ They started to walk up the track together. Black had a torch, but there was still just enough light for them to see roughly where they were going, so he kept it switched off and in his pocket for now. Being out here like this as it was getting dark was eerie and Beth kept thinking she saw movement in the trees either side of them, until she peered more closely and realized it was just the fading light forming opaque shapes between branches. The lie of the land didn’t help. To their left, the woodland was level with them, but on their right it fell away and the drop became longer and steeper as they went.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea? How much do we know about this Harry? Is he really harmless?’

‘Mostly,’ he said quietly.

‘What does that mean?’ It didn’t sound good.

‘I asked around,’ he explained. ‘He’s been begging for booze money in Collemby and the surrounding villages for years.’

‘That it?’ For some reason, she thought he knew more about the man than that but wasn’t letting on.

‘It’s rumoured he might have been in the army once,’ he said.

‘Meaning he has actual training and knows how to kill people?’ All of a sudden, being out here in the dark woods like this seemed a very bad idea.

‘It was a long time ago’ – he shrugged this off – ‘and I’m with you, so it’ll be fine.’

They walked in silence for a while and, as they trudged along the path, it grew darker still.

‘It gets dark really quickly,’ she said.

‘It’s the bloody trees,’ said Black. ‘They blot out what’s left of the light.’ But he didn’t turn on the torch in case it signalled their presence to Harry.

‘Five hundred yards’ – he lowered his voice – ‘that’s what the farmer said. That’s where he spotted Harry. One minute he was on the lane, the next he’d disappeared into the woods.’ And so they walked the distance together, trying not to make any noise that might spook Harry. It was impossible to be entirely quiet because the path had been layered with gravel and loose rocks that scrunched under their feet. Anyone could have heard them coming.

Sure enough, there was a flurry of movement from the trees up ahead and, when they looked towards the sound, they saw a figure break from cover and hare across the path ahead of them then disappear into the bushes. This didn’t look like an old man. He was fast, astonishingly so for someone who spent all his days drinking. Only fear could have propelled him along like that.

Black cursed and set off after him, calling, ‘Stay here!’ to her over his shoulder. Even if she had wanted to go with him, Black covered the ground too fast and she was left trailing in his wake. He disappeared into the bushes after Harry.

Beth stopped where she was, stood, listened and waited. Nothing. When minutes had passed, she called, ‘Lucas?’, but there was no answer. ‘Lucas!’ Still no reply. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ she hissed.

Beth heard a noise then and whirled round, but it was too late. The crashing sound was a figure charging from the bushes on the other side of the path but right by her. It smashed into her, sending her hurtling backwards off the raised lane, and she fell off the path and down the steep hill, hitting the ground hard then rolling over and over as her momentum took her through the bushes and down a long, muddy bank below. Beth’s body had crashed against the ground with such force it knocked the wind out of her. She picked up speed, desperately trying to stop herself by grabbing at the ground with her hands and using her legs as a brake, but the drop was too steep. Her head hit an exposed tree root, stunning her, and something sharp scraped her cheek, drawing blood.

Beth had little choice but to let herself roll all the way down the hill and hope she landed safely at the bottom. She finally came to a halt with a bump, and the back of her head struck the ground hard. She gasped and moaned, then lay completely still while she attempted to work out how badly injured she was.

Beth’s body ached and her head throbbed. She could feel cuts on her arms, legs and face, as well as areas where bruises would soon form, but she could flex her fingers, move her legs and tentatively raise her arms. Everything hurt like hell, but nothing was broken. She turned her head slightly and surveyed the bank she had just come down at speed. Her first thought was that it was a miracle she hadn’t broken her neck, let alone anything else.

Then she wondered how the hell she was going to get back up that high, almost vertical, slippery bank. She turned her head to see what lay in the opposite direction so she could consider her options, and the problem of the bank went straight out of her mind. Now there was a more pressing concern. A dark shape in the undergrowth caught her eye and, at first, she thought it was her overwrought mind playing tricks on her, but then the shape moved and took a step in her direction.

The bulky presence was moving straight towards her. She tried to move away but pain shot through her body. She cried out in alarm and the figure kept coming right at her.

As it moved closer, she realized it was a filthy man dressed in rags. A man with matted hair and a dirt-encrusted face. His wild eyes were full of fear and anger. He was getting closer and he was carrying a large knife.

A lot went through Beth’s mind in the second or two it took the burly figure to bear down on her. By the time he was standing over her, his knife held in readiness, she knew he was Harry, the rough sleeper they were looking for, and, presumably, the man who had pushed her down the hill. She had fallen into a glade a dozen or so yards from the shelter he had constructed. She could just make it out in the background behind him.

She also realized from the look on his face how he viewed her – as a trespasser and a threat. She was trying to invade his territory, steal something from him, possibly take him away. Beth read all that in the man’s enraged face.

She managed to slide herself back a yard or two, ignoring the pain. Before she could even sit up, he was towering over her, close enough for her to smell the stench on the man.

Without even rationally thinking about it, she blurted out, ‘I’m Beth,’ then held up a palm to fend him off. ‘Please,’ she urged him. ‘Don’t!’

Black was frustrated that Happy Harry had given him the slip. He turned and trudged back down the lane. It took him a while to reach the spot where Beth had been standing, and he didn’t notice anything amiss apart from her absence. Hadn’t he specifically told her to wait there?

Obviously, she had given up and trudged all the way back towards the gate and the car, so he set off to jog back that way himself.