Simon Beckett - The Restless Dead

‘She’s bleeding!’ Rachel exclaimed, rushing over. ‘Oh, she’s cut all over!’

The little mongrel yelped, wagging its tail as Rachel tried to examine it. It was shivering miserably, the bloody patches on its muddy coat all too visible now.

‘They look like bites. Something must have attacked her,’ Jamie said.

‘Can I see?’ I asked.

He moved aside. The dog whimpered when I smoothed the thick fur back to get a better look at its wounds. They were mostly superficial, either ragged cuts or small punctures.

‘They aren’t bites,’ I said. Teeth or claws would have torn the flesh much more. I was more relieved that they weren’t clean-edged enough to be from a knife. ‘They look more like tears. Like she’s been caught up on something.’

‘Like what?’ Jamie asked, as though it were my fault.

I’d no answer. Trask had lost interest in the dog anyway. He strode into the copse in the direction the dog had come from and cupped his hands round his mouth.

‘Fay! Fay! ’

There was no answer. He stared at the empty landscape, then came back.

‘I’m going to take the boat up into the Backwaters. Jamie, you head along the creek bank towards the boathouse. Take your phone and call me the minute you find anything.’

‘What if there’s no—’

‘Just do it!’

‘What about me?’ Rachel asked as Jamie broke into a run.

‘You stay here. If Fay comes back let me know.’

‘But—’

‘I’m not arguing.’

He was already striding towards the corner of the house. I went after him. ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘I don’t need any help.’

‘You might if she’s hurt.’

He glared at me, as though furious I’d voiced his fear. But Rachel had followed us, and broke in before he could respond.

‘He’s a doctor, Andrew. You saw Cassie.’

Trask hesitated, then gave a terse nod. We’d reached the front of the house. This side was nearly all glass, huge windows facing directly out on to the creek. A floating jetty sat on top of the water, a small fibreglass boat with an outboard motor moored to it. The jetty swayed as Trask hurried out and climbed in.

‘Untie the line.’

I cast off and got in, green water sloshing around the algae-coated bottom as the boat rocked. I sat in the bow as Trask started the outboard with a blat of blue exhaust. Then he was gunning the motor and taking us upstream.

Looking back, I saw Rachel crouching down by the dog, staring after us.

Trask didn’t speak as the boat roared up the creek, heading deeper into the Backwaters. The receding tide had exposed the drying banks on either side, but there was still enough water in the middle for the boat’s shallow draught.

I watched gulls swoop and dive over something in the mud, but it was only a plastic bag. ‘Does your daughter have a phone?’

‘No.’ I thought that was all I was going to get. He stared ahead of us at the creek. ‘I told her she was too young.’

There was no point saying anything to that. The only thing that would make him feel any better was finding his daughter safe. I could imagine all too well what would be going through his mind right now. ‘Are there many places she could have gone?’

He steered around a patch of ripples on the water, the only indication of a sandbank just under the surface. ‘A few, but it’s tricky on foot. We can cover more ground by boat.’

Saltmarsh gave way to tall banks of rushes. In places they reached above our heads now the tide was falling, so that the boat seemed channelled along between them. Every now and then Trask would shout his daughter’s name as the boat droned along. It produced a raucous response from disturbed birds, but that was all. We passed gaps in the banks that looked like secondary channels branching off the main creek, until we drew close enough to see they led to dead ends. No wonder few boats bothered to come here: it would be easy to become lost in this labyrinth of reeds and water.

The tide had fallen noticeably in the short time since we’d set out: now the creek’s banks rose above us on either side like miniature canyons. Even though we kept to the very centre of the channel, it was obvious we wouldn’t be able to go much further before we ran aground. When we came to a point where the creek was split by a long sandbank, Trask let the boat idle, gnawing at his lip as he studied the diverging waterways.

‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know which way she’ll have gone from here, and the tide’s getting too low to search them all.’ Abruptly, he killed the motor. The boat rocked as he stood up and shouted into the sudden silence. ‘ Fay! ’

There was no answer. Water slopped against the hull as the boat drifted backwards. Grim-faced, Trask yelled her name again before reaching to restart the engine.

‘Hang on,’ I told him.

I thought I’d heard something just as he’d moved. He stopped, listening.

‘I can’t—’

And then it came again. A young girl’s terrified voice. ‘ Daddy! ’

This time Trask heard it. ‘ All right, Fay, I’m coming! ’ he yelled, firing up the engine.

His knuckles were white on the tiller as he aimed the boat up the left hand fork. Rotten wooden posts lined the banks, sticking out of the mud like broken teeth. We passed the tumbledown remains of an old corrugated metal shack, and then the boat rounded a bend and we saw Trask’s daughter.

She was lying half in, half out of the creek, sobbing and covered with mud. All around her the surface was broken by what at first I thought was some kind of weed, exposed by the falling tide. Then we drew closer and I realized what it was.

The creek was full of barbed wire.

‘It hurts , Daddy!’ Fay sobbed as we jumped out of the boat and splashed through the cold water towards her.

‘I know. It’s all right, sweetheart, don’t try to move.’

She couldn’t have anyway. Only one of her arms was free; the other was caught on the rusty wire. The barbs had bitten into skin and clothing alike, and the mud that coated her was streaked with blood. Only her upper body was visible, but the wire obviously snared her underwater as well.

Her face was pale and blotched with tears. ‘Cassie jumped in the water and then just started screaming ! I tried to help her but she got free and I fell in, and... and...’

‘Shh, it’s OK. Cassie’s fine, she came back home.’

Trask crouched beside her, carefully feeling the wire. This was a different man from the one I’d seen so far, tender and patient. But there was fear in his eyes as he turned to me.

‘I need you to hold the wire still,’ he said in a low voice.

‘We should call the emergency services...’ I began, but he shook his head.

‘It’ll take them too long to get out here. I’m not leaving her like this.’

I understood how he felt: if it had been my daughter I wouldn’t have wanted to wait either. I just wasn’t sure the two of us could free her without making her injuries worse.

But I could see Trask’s mind was made up. Fay began to panic when she saw what we were about to do. ‘Nonono, don’t!’

‘Shh, I need you to be brave. Come on, be a big girl.’

She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away as her father set to work. Knowing it would be needed later, I took my jacket off and flung it on the dry bank before joining him. Getting soaked again so soon after I’d recovered was asking for trouble but there was nothing else for it. Trask’s face was grim and intent as he crouched chest deep in the water, groping for the barbs below the murky surface. The mud sucked at my feet as I took hold of the wire strands, trying to keep them still. It wasn’t easy. Although I’d pulled my shirt sleeves down to protect my hands, both Trask and I were soon bleeding from where the sharp metal had ripped our skin like paper.