Strangers

THE NORTH ROAD OUT OF THUSSOCK

THE NORTH ROAD OUT OF THUSSOCK

The police officer stepped out into the road and flagged the old Ford Focus down. He’d heard it coming a mile off, its over-revved engine straining with effort. The driver cursed. He’d been too busy messing with his phone to see the flashing lights until it was too late. He braked hard, trying to make the sudden halt appear as controlled as possible. He wound down his window and wiped the spitting rain from his face. ‘Evening, Sergeant.’

‘How are we this evening, Mr Boyle? Driving a little fast, weren’t we? In a hurry?’

‘Just off to see a friend.’

‘Ah, yes. And where would this friend be?’

‘Up near the fracking site.’

‘Is that right?’

‘It’s just Murray. You know Murray, Sergeant.’

‘Oh, I know Murray all right. And what’ll you two be getting up to?’

‘Just a quiet night, helping him through his shift. Watch a few DVDs, have a couple of drinks, that’s all...’

They’d been through this routine many times before. The sergeant peered into the backseat of the car where he could see a large black holdall. ‘You don’t mind if I...?’ he asked.

‘Whatever. Do you never get bored of this?’

‘Never,’ the officer replied. ‘You do tend to bring it on yourself though, Mr Boyle, driving too fast on a road as quiet as this. Subtlety has never been a strong point of yours, has it?’

Boyle didn’t answer, he just watched in his rear view mirror as the sergeant mooched through the holdall. A few cans of beer, some smokes, and a stack of DVDs. The officer looked at the covers of a few of them, then shook his head with disdain and dropped them back into the bag. He’d always had his doubts about this bloke.

‘Are we okay here, Sergeant Ross?’

The sergeant leant into the driver’s window. ‘Aye, we’re okay. Just take it easy. I know you’re looking forward to watching your movies with your pal, but try and get there in one piece, won’t you. Oh, and I hope those cans are for Murray, not you if you’re driving.’

‘I’ll just have the one.’

‘I’d rather you had none. On your way now, Mr Boyle.’

Boyle pulled away, sticking to the speed limit until the lights of the police car were well out of sight.

#

‘Aye, he’s a fuckin’ prick that one,’ Murray said. ‘Always has been. Always will be.’

Two DVDs and half the beer down and he was still complaining about Sergeant Ross. ‘I swear, he’s got it in for me. Always trying to catch me for sumthin’.’

‘Were you speeding?’

‘Yeah, but that’s not the point.’

‘It’s exactly the point, you dozy prick. You know me, man, I’m as guilty of overdoin’ it as you are, but I’m not so soft as to...’

Murray stopped and stared at one of the CCTV screens on the desk.

‘What’s up?’

He’d spent more time watching the DVDs on his laptop than the security cameras he was being paid to monitor. ‘That’s weird,’ he said. He tapped the screen with his finger. ‘Was that there before?’

‘I don’t know. Not my responsibility. You’re the security man, not me.’

‘Thanks for nothing, pal.’

Murray stared at the screen and used a keyboard and mouse to adjust the picture. His remit was to watch the fracking site, not the surrounding area, but the cameras had been set up with deliberately wide fields of view. You know how it is, Murray , his boss had told him. There’s always some eco-warrior dipshit banging on about us harming the environment. We just need to keep an eye out. Stay one step ahead of the game.

‘What is it?’ Boyle asked, trying to make out the pixelated shape; a blurry mass at the bottom of a tree. ‘Some kind of animal?’

‘I’ve no idea. I think I should go out there and check. You coming?’

‘It’s pissing down and it’s dark.’

‘There’s a flashlight and a spare waterproof in the cupboard. Come on, man. I don’t want to go out there on my own.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘I’m serious. Come on.’

#

It was hard to work out where the shape was in relation to the security hut. Murray looked back and tried to orientate himself using the drill shaft at the centre of the site as a guide. This was definitely the right place. ‘It was this way, man, I’m sure,’ he said, flashing his torch around the wet grass.

‘Well there’s nothing here now, Murray. Let’s get back.’

‘Wait. Look!’ Murray shone his light deeper into the dense copse of trees up ahead. There was something leaning against one of the larger trunks. Was that someone’s head? A body slumped forward? He called out but there was no response. The two men looked at each other, then took a few nervous steps closer. Murray relaxed when he saw what it was. ‘It’s just a bike. Bloody hell, would you look at that. Just someone’s bloody saddle bag.’

‘What’s anyone doin’ out here on a bike at this time?’

‘You’d be surprised. I could show you some clips on that CCTV. Folks get up to all sorts out in these woods.’

‘Can’t believe you thought that was a head. You fuckin’ moron.’

‘Least I got close enough to look,’ Murray said. ‘I wasn’t the one hangin’ back ’cause I was too bloody scared.’

‘I wasn’t scared. Like I said, you’re bein’ paid for this, not me.’

They were about to head back when something else caught Murray’s eye, an unexpected flash of colour. ‘Oh, f**k,’ he said. This time there was no doubt as to what it was they were seeing: the crimson was jarringly out of place against the greens and browns. His torch illuminated a crescent-shaped pool of blood in the leaf litter. And there was more of it... another patch a short distance up ahead, a series of intermittent drips forming a trail. Murray continued forward, Boyle turned around and went the other way. ‘Where the f**k are you goin’?’

‘Sorry, Murray, I can’t... I shouldn’t even be here. Sergeant Ross has it in for me as it is. If he catches me out here then... I’m sorry, man...’

Boyle sprinted back to the security hut. Murray held his position on the edge of the forest, the dripping rain the only noise of any note, and waited a moment longer. He knew he didn’t have any choice but to investigate. As his so-called friend had so succinctly put it, this was what he was being paid to do, and although whatever had happened here was technically outside the fracking site, he knew how suspect it would seem if he got this far then stopped. In the distance he heard Boyle’s knacker of a car race away, blown exhaust echoing, tyres skidding on the gravel.

‘Thanks, mate ,’ he grumbled to himself.

Deep breath .

Murray followed the blood trail deeper into the trees.

He found her in a patch of open space in the middle of the wood, lying on her side as if she was asleep. She was half-naked, a steady flow of still-warm blood running down the insides of her thighs, washing away in the rain. Porcelain flesh, hidden away through modesty for years but exposed for all to see now. Fawn anorak with blotting-paper blood stains. Steam snaked up from between her legs. She’d not been dead long.