There was the sound of things clattering and Nick came hopping out on one leg, hamming it up to get a laugh.
‘I think I need to give that a bit of tidy,’ Nick said.
‘Yeah, you’ve got to make room for all Junior’s stuff. Goal posts, football ...’ Amanda said.
Nick frowned. ‘Erm ... what if she’s a girl?’
‘I meant if she’s a girl, you nob. Female footballers. They earn a fortune too,’ Amanda said with a laugh.
Ducking his head back into the shed, Nick rattled around a bit more and then came out triumphantly holding some kind of contraption.
‘I forgot that I had this bloody thing in there,’ Nick said shaking his head with a smile.
‘What the bloody hell is that? It looks like an alien hoover!’ Amanda chortled.
‘It’s a metal detector, obviously,’ Nick said with a wry grin.
‘You know, I’m not surprised, but just for the record, why have you got a metal detector?’
‘In some drunken stupor, I decided to buy it online. Thought it would be great fun to take it down the beach,’ Nick explained.
‘What, and discover treasure? You’re such a geek, Nick!’
Fiddling around, Nick checked to see if it still worked. He put the headphones over his ears and turned it on. It burst into life with a high-pitched squeal that hurt his eardrums.
‘Bloody hell, that’s loud!’ he said, turning down the volume. ‘Here we go ...’
Nick began to sweep the lawn with the detector to and fro, all the while playing the clown. Amanda just laughed at him.
Wandering over to where Amanda was sitting, Nick gestured to her.
‘Fancy a go?’ he asked.
‘Erm ... fuck off.’
‘Come on. Using a metal detector has got to be on your bucket list, surely?’
‘Yeah, it’s up there with learning how to wallpaper,’ Amanda quipped.
Nick carried on using it for a moment. ‘Hang on. That sounds like a Bronze Age sword under there. Half a million quid from the British Museum,’ he joked.
‘You’re hilarious!’ Amanda said.
Nick smiled, ‘Come on, Mand. Give it a whirl! It’ll make me happy.’
Rolling her eyes, she held out her hand. ‘Oh, all right. If it will make you happy, then give it here.’
Nick clamped the headphones onto her ears and pointed to a patch of grass just by the patio. ‘Try that bit. Might find a body under the patio.’
‘Well, that’s no good. They’d have to dig up our garden and we’re about to have a baby,’ Amanda said.
‘We just won’t report it,’ Nick joked.
‘I feel like a right twat!’ she said as she swept the lawn. And then she stopped in her tracks. ‘Ooh! What was that?’
Nick came over and listened. There was definitely a high-pitched buzz.
‘There’s something metal under there. Let’s have a look.’ Nick bent down and moved the grass out of the way where the noise was coming from.
‘I can’t see anything.’
‘There!’ Amanda crouched down as best she could and saw that half buried in the earth was a small, silver metal box. It was about two inches square.
‘Have you found something? Can we both retire?’ Nick asked as she stood up, looking quizzically at the box.
‘What is it?’ Amanda asked.
‘I don’t know. Open it,’ Nick said with a shrug.
Opening the box slowly, she clicked back the lid. Inside was a diamond ring.
Amanda frowned at Nick – and then the penny dropped.
‘What do you think?’ Nick asked with a smile as he dropped to his knee.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Amanda said as she started to choke up with emotion.
‘Will you marry me, Amanda?’ Nick asked.
She shook her head and pushed him playfully. ‘That whole metal detector routine! Oh God, you are such a bell-end!’
‘A romantic bell-end?’ Nick grinned as he got up.
Amanda moved closer and they hugged tightly.
‘Is that a yes, then?’ Nick asked as he moved a stray piece of hair away from her face.
‘Yes, of course I’ll marry you,’ Amanda said as they began to kiss.
RUTH WAS SITTING WATCHING the BBC News channel intently. She had tried to ring Steven Flaherty, but there was no reply. The arrest in Edinburgh was on a half-hour cycle, but there was no new information. She had already decided that the arrested man was Jurgen Kessler, even though she knew this was a dangerous assumption.
It has to be Kessler, doesn’t it?
Sitting back, Ruth processed what the consultant had told them about Sian’s injury. Ruth felt guilty about watching for news from Edinburgh after all she’d said to Sian, but she couldn’t help herself. Kessler was the key to finding out what had happened to Sarah.
The news anchor looked at the screen. ‘Police in Edinburgh have now confirmed that a man has been charged with the rape and attempted murder of a woman in the city centre two days ago. Although no details of the suspect have been released, police have confirmed that the man is local to the area and well known to them.’
No! Jesus Christ! Why did I let myself believe it was Kessler?
Ruth’s heart sank and she felt sick.
I’m so bloody stupid! she said as the anger and frustration built inside.
When is this nightmare ever going to stop?
Head in her hands, Ruth knew what she needed to do.
Marching into the garage, Ruth lifted boxes and kicked a garden chair out of her way in sheer frustration.
I’m not doing this anymore! It has to stop.
Her mind was now full of Sian’s diagnosis. That’s what mattered. Nothing was conclusive, but there was a possibility that she would never walk properly again, and that was a tragedy. They would have to get the ground floor of the house converted – or move to a bungalow, maybe?
Picking up a large, empty cardboard box, Ruth moved over to the table and chair where all the stuff to do with Sarah and her disappearance were laid out or stuck to the wall. It was time to stop all this and move on. Or at least try to draw a line under what had happened.
I’ve got to start living.
Taking photos from the wall, Ruth’s eyes filled with tears as she stacked them neatly in a folder. There was part of her that doubted she could really put all this to one side and leave it in the past. But she had to try or she would be trapped in the past for ever.
Looking up at the photo of Sarah at Glastonbury, Ruth stopped.
I’m so sorry. I will find you. I promise. And I will find out what happened to you ... one day. But I just can’t do that right now.
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Publication date June 2020
The Berwyn River Killings
A Ruth Hunter Crime Thriller #Book 5
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
Although this book is very much a work of fiction, it is located in Snowdonia, a spectacular area of North Wales. It is steeped in history and folklore that spans over two thousand years. It is worth mentioning that Llancastell is a fictional town on the eastern edges of Snowdonia. I have made liberal use of artistic licence, names and places have been changed to enhance the pace and substance of the story.
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The Devil's Cliff Killings Page 30