Simon Beckett - The Chemistry of Death

A dark, ugly feeling was beginning to grow in me. 'Nobody reported this till now?'

'Apparently not. Seems like nobody missed her. Everyone thought she must have gone off somewhere, or be busy writing. The newsagent told me it wasn't like she was a local. So much for living in a close-knit community, eh?'

I couldn't say anything. I'd not noticed her absence either. 'It doesn't mean it's her. The barbecue was almost two weeks ago. Whoever you found here hasn't been dead for that long. And what about Sally's mobile phone?'

'What about it?'

'It was still working when I called it. If she'd been missing for all that time, the battery would be dead.'

'Not necessarily. It's a new model, with a standby time of four hundred hours. That's about sixteen days. Probably exaggerated, but just sitting in her bag without being used, it could have lasted.'

'This could still be somebody else,' I persisted, not believing it myself.

'Perhaps.' His tone implied there was something he wasn't going to share with me. 'But whoever it is we need to find who killed her.'

There was no arguing with that. 'Do you think it's somebody local? From the village?'

'I don't think anything yet. Victim could be a hitch-hiker; killer could have just dumped her here as he was passing through. Too soon to say one way or the other.' He drew in a breath. 'Look-'

'The answer's still no.'

'You don't know what I'm going to ask yet.'

'Yes, I do. Just one more favour to help you out. Then it'll be another, and another.' I shook my head. 'I don't do this any more. There are other people in the country who do.'

'Not many. And you were the best.'

'Not any more. I've done what I can.'

His expression was cold. 'Have you?'

Turning, he walked away, leaving me to make my own way back to the Land Rover. I drove away, but only until I was out of sight. My hands were shaking uncontrollably as I pulled into the side of the road. All at once I felt I couldn't breathe. I rested my head on the wheel, trying not to gulp air, knowing if I hyperventilated that would only make it worse.

Finally, the panic attack subsided. My shirt was sticking to me with sweat, but I didn't move until there was a blare of horn from behind me. A tractor was chugging up towards where I was blocking the road. As I looked the driver gestured angrily for me to get out of the way. I held up my hand in apology and set off again.

By the time I reached the village I was beginning to feel calmer. I wasn't hungry but I knew I should eat something. I stopped outside the store that was the closest thing the village had to a supermarket. I was planning to buy a sandwich and take it back home, snatch an hour or two trying to put my thoughts in order before evening surgery started. As I passed the chemist's a young woman came out and almost bumped into me. I recognized her as one of Henry's patients, one of the loyal number who still preferred to wait until they could see him. I'd treated her once, when Henry hadn't been working, but still had to search for her name.

Lyn, I thought. Lyn Metcalf.

'Oh, sorry,' she said, clutching a parcel to her.

'That's all right. How are you, anyway?'

She gave me a huge grin. 'I'm great, thanks.'

As she went off up the street I can remember thinking it was good to see someone so obviously happy. And then I didn't give her another thought.

It was later than usual when Lyn reached the embankment that ran through the reedbeds, but the morning was even mistier than the day before. A white smudge overlaid everything, swirling into aimless shapes that remained just out of sight. It would burn off later, and by lunchtime it would have become one of the hottest days of the year. But right now all was cool and damp, and the idea of sun and heat seemed far away.

She felt stiff and out of sorts. She and Marcus had stayed up late the night before to watch a film, and her body was still protesting about it. She'd found it uncharacteristically hard to force herself out of bed that morning, grumbling to Marcus who merely grunted unsympathetically as he locked himself in the shower. Now she was out her muscles felt stiff and grudging. Run it off. You'll feel better for it afterwards. She grimaced. Yeah, right.

To take her mind off how hard the run was proving, she thought about the parcel she'd hidden in the chest of drawers under her bras and pants, where it was a safe bet Marcus wouldn't find it. The only interest he took in her underwear was when she was wearing it.

She hadn't intended to buy the pregnancy testing kit when she went into the chemist's. But when she'd seen them on the shelves, impulse had made her put one into her basket along with the extra box of tampons she hoped she wouldn't be needing. Even then she might have had second thoughts. It was hard enough keeping anything secret in this place, and buying something like that could well mean the entire village would be giving her knowing looks before the day was out.

But the shop was empty, and there had only been a bored young girl on the checkout. She was new, indifferent to anyone over the age of eighteen, and unlikely to even notice what Lyn was buying, let alone care enough to gossip. Face burning, Lyn had stepped forward and busied herself rummaging in her bag for the money as the teenager listlessly rang the testing kit through on the till.

She'd been grinning like a kid when she hurried out, only to bump straight into one of the doctors. The younger one, not Dr Henry. Dr Hunter. Quiet, but not bad-looking. Caused quite a stir among the younger women when he arrived, though he didn't seem to notice it. God, she'd felt so embarrassed; it had been all she could do not to laugh. He must have thought she was mad, beaming at him like an idiot. Or thought she fancied him. The thought of it made her smile again now.

The run was doing its work. She was finally starting to loosen up, kinks and aches easing as the blood began to pump. The woods were just ahead now, and as she looked at them some dark association stirred in her subconscious. At first, still distracted by the memory of what had happened at the chemist, she couldn't place it. Then it came to her. She'd forgotten about the dead hare she'd found on the path the day before until now. And the sense of being watched she'd felt when she'd entered the woods.

Suddenly the prospect of going into them again – especially in this mist – was strangely unappealing. Stupid, she thought, doing her best to dismiss it. Still, she slowed a little as she approached them. When she realized what she was doing she clicked her tongue in irritation and picked up her speed. Only when she had almost reached the treeline did she think about the woman's body that had been found. But that hadn't been near here, she told herself. Besides, the killer would have to be some sort of masochist to be out this early, she thought wryly. And then the first of the trees closed around her.

It was a relief when the foreboding she'd felt the day before failed to materialize. The woods were just woods again. The path was empty, the dead hare no doubt part of the food chain by now. Just nature, that was all. She glanced at the stopwatch on her wrist, saw she'd lost a minute or two on her usual time, and picked up her pace as she approached the clearing. The standing stone was in sight now, a dark shape ahead of her in the mist. She was almost on top of it before it registered that something about it was wrong. Then light and shadow resolved themselves, and all thoughts of running went out of her mind.

A dead bird had been tied to the stone. It was a mallard, bound with wire around its neck and feet. Recovering, Lyn quickly looked around. But there was nothing to see. Only trees, and the dead mallard. She wiped sweat from her eyes and looked at it again. Blood darkened its feathers where the thin strand bit into it. Uncertain whether or not to untie it, she leaned forward to examine the wire more closely.