The Calling Of The Grave dh-4

by Simon Beckett

'It has to be for the graves. You always said he might be telling the truth about not being able to remember where they were. Perhaps you were right.'

  Her forehead wrinkled. 'That's not what I meant. I'm not surprised he couldn't find them after all this time, if that's what he was doing. But why would he want to?'

  That hadn't occurred to me. It wasn't unheard of for killers to dig up their victims and rebury them, sometimes more than once. But that was usually done out of panic, a paranoid urge to hide the evidence. That didn't apply here. Monk had already confessed to the murders, and Zoe and Lindsey Bennett's graves had lain undetected for years.

  So why dig up half the moor looking for them now?

  I found myself looking down at the earthworm again, wriggling in its stubborn attempt to burrow into the soil. Something about it was nagging me. Then I realized.

  Worms, even cut ones, don't stay long on the surface. Either they burrow back underground or they're eaten. Yet this one was still here. And the hole it was in was smaller than the others, as though whoever had dug it had broken off or…

  'We need to go,' I said.

  Sophie didn't move. She was staring across the moor. 'David. ..'

  I followed her gaze. No more than a hundred yards away a motionless figure stood watching us. It seemed to have appeared from nowhere: there were no bushes or rocks nearby where it could have hidden. In the fading light it was little more than a silhouette, motionless in the rising ground mist. But there was a breadth and bulk about it that had an awful familiarity.

  Topping the broad shoulders was the pale globe of a head.

  There was an instant when everything seemed frozen. Then the figure started towards us. I took hold of Sophie's arm.

  'Come on.'

  'Oh, God, that's him, isn't it? It's Monk!'

  'Just keep walking.'

  But that was easier said than done. Heather clutched at our feet like barbed wire, and white tendrils of mist spread across the darkening moor like a vast cobweb. At another time I might have appreciated the sight. Now it made each step potentially treacherous. If either of us fell or turned an ankle…

  Don't think about that. I kept my grip on Sophie's arm, urging her back towards the track. The car was just visible on the distant road, a tiny block of colour disappearing into the dusk. I felt sick at how far away it looked. It was tempting to ignore the track and cut straight across the moor, but even though that was the shortest route it would mean slogging over rough heather and bog. That would take even longer, and in the fading light we daren't risk it.

  Both of us were already out of breath as I took another glance behind us. The figure was nearer than before, steadily closing the gap. Don't get distracted. Keep going. I turned away, and focused on the track ahead of us. It was no use phoning for help. Even if there was a signal no one would get here in time.

  We stumbled over tussocks of reed-like marsh grass, boots squelching into the mud and water concealed underneath. I took another look back and saw that the figure wasn't following us any more. Instead of trying to catch us before we reached the track, he was cutting across the moor towards the road.

  He was going to try to beat us to the car.

  Sophie had seen him as well. 'David…' she panted.

  'I know. Just keep going.'

  The track was tantalizingly near, but once we reached it we still had to get back to the road. The figure didn't have nearly so far to go. He was moving across the moor in a steady, unhurried stride.

  God, we're not going to make it. The ground rose more steeply as we reached the bank immediately below the track. Sophie was struggling now, and I had to help her scramble up the last few yards, clutching at handfuls of heather to pull ourselves up.

  Then we were on the track's firmer surface. My chest was burning as I tugged Sophie into a lumbering run. 'Come on!'

  'Wait… get my breath…' she gasped. Her face was white and slick with sweat. She shouldn't have been exerting herself so soon after coming out of hospital, but there was no choice.

  'We need to run,' I told her.

  She shook her head, pushing me away. 'Can't… I can't…'

  'Yes, you can,' I said, tightening my arm under her shoulders and almost dragging her down the track.

  My legs felt like water as we lurched towards the car. The figure was no more than thirty or forty yards away, off to one side and slightly below us as he slogged over the rugged moor. But he'd begun to slow now himself. The pale head turned towards us as we stumbled the last few yards. He'd stopped, barely a stone's throw away. I could feel his eyes on us as I fumbled for my key fob and unlocked the car. Sophie collapsed inside while I ran round to the driver's side, conscious of the shadowy figure watching from the knee-deep mist.

  He'd beaten us. Why did he give up? I'd no idea and didn't care. Slamming the door, I turned on the engine and stamped on the accelerator. As the car roared away I looked in the rear-view mirror.

  Both the road and moor behind us were empty.

  Chapter 16

  I didn't slow for two or three miles. Only when I was certain no one was following did I began to relax. Reaction was setting in, leaving me wrung out and clammy as I let the car's speed ease back to normal.

  'Are we safe?' Sophie asked. She was still breathing heavily. The bruise looked worse than ever against the pallor of her face.

  'I think so.'

  She closed her eyes. 'I'm going to be sick.'

  I pulled over. Sophie stumbled out of the car almost before we'd stopped. Leaving the engine running I waited nearby, keeping one eye on the surrounding moor. Despite my assurances I'd be happier when we were far away from this place. The dusk was thickening and the rustle of wind through the heather only emphasized the loneliness. We could have been the only living things out there.

  But we weren't. As I waited for Sophie, I checked my phone and saw with relief that there was enough signal to make a call. I dialled Terry's number, willing him to pick up. It seemed to ring for a long time, but just when I thought it was going to go to voicemail he answered.

  'This better be good.' He sounded slurred, as though he were either very tired or drunk. But I couldn't see even Terry drinking in the middle of an investigation like this.

  'We're at Black Tor. We've-'

  'Who's "we"?'

  'Sophie Keller. She discharged herself from hospital yesterday and-'

  'Keller? What are you doing there with her?'

  'Does it matter? Monk's here!'

  That seemed to get through. 'Go on.'

  I kept it brief, conscious of the fading light. 'So you didn't actually see him up close?' Terry said, when I'd finished.

  'Look, it was Monk! I didn't see another car, so he can't have got far.'

  I heard a rasp of bristles as Terry rubbed his hand across his face. 'OK, leave it with me.'

  'Do you need us to hang around?'

  'I think we'll cope.' His tone was heavy with sarcasm. 'If I want you I'll know where to find you.'

  The line went dead. Feeling the familiar irritation, I put the phone away and went over to Sophie. She gave me a wan smile. 'Sorry. False alarm.'

  'How're you feeling?'

  'My head's throbbing a little, but it isn't too bad. Did you call the police?'

  'I've just spoken to Terry Connors. He's getting things moving.'

  Her mouth tightened at the mention of Terry, but for once she didn't criticize him. 'Do we have to wait here?'

  'He says there's no need.'

  I'd been expecting that we'd have to stay until the police got there, but I wasn't about to argue. I looked out at the moor. The light was dropping quickly, and a haze of mist blurred the edges of the little we could still see. Sophie shivered, and I knew what she was thinking.

  Monk was still out there.

  I put my arm around her. 'Come on, I'll take you home.'

  The mist had thickened to a full-blown fog by the time we reached Padbury. I was forced to slow to a crawl, my headlights almost us
eless against the white gauze. I didn't even realize that we'd reached the village until the shadowy outline of the old church loomed up out of the fog.

  I pulled into the lane at the bottom of Sophie's garden and switched off the engine. In the ticking silence as it cooled we might have been at the bottom of the sea. I found myself glancing around uneasily as we went up the path, straining to hear. The fog wrapped round us, making everything more than a few feet away all but invisible.

  'You should get security lights,' I said, as the conical shadow of the kiln took form on one side, towering over the spectral branches of the orchard.

  'I don't need them out here,' Sophie said, reaching in her bag for the house keys. She faltered as she realized the irony of what she'd just said. 'Not usually, anyway.'

  But the front door was still intact, the new lock fitted by the joiner reassuringly solid. When Sophie opened it and flicked on the hall light, the house looked exactly as we'd left it that morning.

  I hadn't realized till then how tense I'd been.

  From the deep sigh she gave as she shot home the new bolts on the door, it seemed that Sophie felt the same way.

  'How are you holding up?' I asked as she tiredly pulled off her coat.

  'I've had better days.' Her smile was unconvincing. 'Look, about what happened earlier with Cath Bennett… I'm sorry, I didn't think it through.'

  After what had happened that no longer seemed important. 'Forget it. Anyway, you were right. Monk wouldn't have dug those holes without a good reason. There must be at least one other grave round there. The police'll have to search the whole area again.'

  She looked as though that hadn't occurred to her. 'You think so?'

  'I don't see that they've any choice. Monk's as good as told us where to look. That's what you wanted, isn't it?'

  'Yes, of course.' She sounded doubtful. 'God, I really need a drink.'

  So did I, but not yet. 'I think it might be a good idea to stay somewhere else tonight.'

  Sophie was sitting on the stairs, unfastening her muddy boots. She stopped to look up at me, her face closed. 'No.'

  'You could book into a hotel-'

  'I'm not going anywhere.'

  'You've already been attacked here once, and we still don't know who by. If it was Monk-'

  'If it was Monk I'd be dead. You know it as well as I do. If you want to run away you can, but I'm not going to!'

  I stared in surprise. Where did that come from?

  Sophie sighed. 'I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that. It's just

  … I – I'm scared and confused, and this is my home. If I leave now I'll never feel safe here again. Can't you understand that?'

  I could. That didn't mean I agreed, but there was no point arguing.

  'OK'

  'Thank you.' She came over and gave me a hug. I held her for a moment, feeling the warm pressure of her body before she stepped back. 'I can be a cow sometimes, but I appreciate everything you're doing. And I wouldn't blame you if you decided to go anyway.'

  The opening was there if I wanted to take it. I could walk away now, go back to London and let Sophie and the police handle it from here.

  But that wasn't going to happen. Whatever was going on, it had its roots in what happened eight years ago. I'd been involved then, and I still was.

  I gave Sophie a smile. 'You mentioned something about a drink.'

  We shared the cooking that night. Dinner was grilled lamb chops from the freezer with minted potatoes and frozen peas. Not haute cuisine, perhaps, but it was simple and satisfying. Sophie produced a bottle of wine, and gave it me to open while she defrosted the chops.

  'Padbury doesn't have much of a wine merchant's,' she apologized, pouring two glasses.

  'It'll be fine,' I said. And it was. The alcohol took the edge off any remaining awkwardness, and I didn't argue when Sophie suggested leaving the dishes till morning. Taking what was left of the wine with us, we went into the sitting room. I put more logs in the stove and built up the fire using kindling and old newspaper from the wicker basket. You're getting good at this.

  Soon bright flames were dancing behind the smoky glass panel, driving the chill from the room. Sophie and I sat at either end of the sofa. We didn't talk, but the silence was comfortable. I took another drink of wine and stole a look at her. She was drowsing, legs curled up on the sofa, head fallen back to expose the slender line of her throat. Her face was peaceful and relaxed, the firelight softening the bruising so it could almost have been shadow. The intervening years had been good to her, I decided. She wasn't conventionally beautiful, but the strong features would still turn heads. They would still look good in another eight years' time. Or eighteen.

  She was breathing with the slow, steady rhythm of deep sleep, the almost empty wine glass still held loosely in her fingers. It had fallen slightly to rest lightly between her breasts. I was loath to disturb her but it was starting to slip, each breath dislodging it a little more.

  'Sophie…' I said gently. There was no response. 'Sophie?'

  She came awake gradually, eyes staring at me blankly before blinking as awareness returned. 'Sorry,' she apologized, sitting up. 'Please tell me I've not been drooling.'

  'Only a little.'

  She smiled and swatted at me. 'Pig.'

  'Why don't you go to bed?'

  'Not much of a host, am I?' she said, but she didn't argue. She stood up and put her hand on my shoulder as she swayed unsteadily. 'Whoa…'

  'Take it easy,' I said, getting up to support her. 'Are you

  OK?'

  'Just tired, I think. Must have stood up too quickly.'

  She was still holding on to me. I had my hands on her waist, standing close enough to feel the warmth coming from her. Neither of us moved. Sophie's eyes were big and dark as she leaned into me. A smile curved her face.

  'Well…' she said, and something hit the window with a bang.

  We jumped apart. I rushed to the heavy curtains and yanked them open, half expecting to see Monk's nightmare face glaring back at me. But the window was unbroken and empty. All I could see beyond it was an amorphous sheet of white fog.

  'What was it?' Sophie asked, standing close behind me.

  'Probably nothing.'

  It was an inane thing to say, especially when my own heart was pounding. Monk can't have followed us back here. Can he? But he didn't have to follow us. Not when Sophie's address had been on her letters.

  'Stay here,' I told her.

  'You're not going outside?'

  'Only to take a look. 'The alternative was cowering inside all night, wondering what had hit the window. If it was nothing then we could relax. If it was Monk…

  Then it wouldn't make any difference.

  I took the heavy iron poker from beside the glowing stove and went into the hall. Sophie hurried into the kitchen and returned with a lantern-style torch.

  'Lock the door behind me,' I said, taking it from her.

  'David, wait But I was already sliding back the bolts on the front door and stepping outside. There was nothing to see but fog. The air was damp, scented with loam and rotting leaves. I shivered, wishing I'd thought to grab my coat. The fog soaked up the lantern's beam. Keeping close to the side of the house, I began making my way towards the sitting room. The poker felt flimsy in my hand, and I was already beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea. What are you going to do if there is someone out here? What if it's Monk?

  But it was too late now. Up ahead I could see a misty glow that must be the sitting-room window. I picked up my pace, keen to get it over with.

  And something moved on the ground at my feet.

  I stumbled backwards, raising the poker as I thrust out the lantern. There was another flurry of movement, and then the light and shadows resolved themselves.

  Caught in the lantern's beam, an owl blinked up at me.

  I lowered the poker, feeling stupid. The bird was ghostly pale, its face almost white. It was hunched on the grass below the window, wings splay
ed out awkwardly at its sides. The dark and alien eyes shuttered in another slow blink, but it made no attempt to move.

  'It's a barn owl,' Sophie said from behind me.

  She startled me: I hadn't heard her approach. 'I thought you were waiting inside?'

  'I didn't say that.' Sophie had more sense than me, enough to pull on a coat. She crouched beside the injured bird. 'It's lucky the window didn't break. Poor thing. The fog must have confused it. What do you think we should do?'

  'It's probably just stunned,' I said. The bird was staring straight ahead, either determined to ignore us or too dazed to care. 'We shouldn't move it.'

  'But we've got to do something!'

  'If it struggles we might hurt it even more.' Besides, injured or not, the bird was still a predator. Its beak and claws were no less sharp.

  'I'm not leaving it out here,' Sophie said, in a tone I was beginning to recognize. I sighed.

  'Have you got a blanket or something?'

  The owl flapped a little as I cautiously covered it with an old towel, but quickly subsided. Sophie suggested leaving it just inside the kiln, propping the door open so it could fly out when it had recovered.

  'What about your pots?' I asked.

  'They're insured. Anyway, it's an owl. It can see in the dark.'

  The bird was surprisingly light as I carried it into the kiln, the rapid tattoo of its heart thrumming under my hands. Inside was damp and musty with the smell of old bricks. My footsteps echoed as I set the owl on the floor and removed the towel. We hadn't turned on the light, and its pale feathers were almost luminous in the darkness.

  'Do you think it'll be all right?' Sophie asked as we returned to the house.

  'We can't do any more tonight. If it's still there in the morning we can call a vet.'

  I locked and bolted the front door, giving it a tug to make sure. Sophie shivered as she rubbed her arms.

  'God, I'm frozen!'

  She was standing very close. Looking at me. It would have been natural to take hold of her.

  'It's late,' I said. 'You go on up, I'll see to things down here.'

  She blinked, then nodded. 'Right. Well… goodnight.'