Tom Weaver - The Dead Tracks

'I always think they look a bit like eyes,' Mark said.

She nodded. What a creepy old building.'

He put his arm around her shoulder and brought her into him. 'Don't worry - I'll protect you from the scary factory.'

She laughed, and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.

Crack .

A noise from behind them. She stopped. Mark walked on a couple of steps, his arm slipping away, then he paused and turned to look at her.

What's the matter?'

She looked around her. Wind passed through the trees, whispering gently as the leaves fluttered against the branches.

'Sona?' he said, taking a step closer to her. 'Are you okay?'

She took his outstretched hand.

'Sona?'

Finally she looked at him. "Yeah. I guess I'm fine.'

They carried on walking. The path was starting to arc left, moving in a gentle curve. Before long, the hardened mud started to disappear beneath their feet, and in its place came more grass. But then Sona spotted a clearing about eighty feet in front of them. The canopy wasn't as thick, and sunlight was punching through the branches and leaves in hundreds of pollen-filled rectangles. It looked beautiful.

'Wow,' she said. 'Look at that.'

Mark smiled. 'That's our picnic spot.'

When they reached the clearing, he started to unpack the hamper, laying down a blanket on the knee-high grass, and removing packets of biscuits and cheese.

Sona looked around her. 'How do you know about this place?'

'I used to come here as a boy.'

'Are we far from home?'

Mark looked up. 'Not far.'

'It's so quiet -'

Crack.

The same noise again. Like fallen branches snapping and breaking underfoot. And now something else too. A sound behind it. What is that?

She stared across the clearing. Where the trees began again to her right, it was dark: hundreds of trunks gradually fading away into blackness; thick, tangled branches preventing sunlight getting through from above.

'Can you hear that?'

Mark continued unpacking. 'Hear what?'

She looked back at him. 'It's like a…'

He glanced at the spot she'd been studying, and back to her. 'Like a what?'

'Like a…' She looked worried now. 'A whimpering'

She turned back to the woods, her eyes narrowing.

Then something moved.

A skittle of darkness darting between tree trunks. She took another step forward, leaning slightly, trying to look beyond the initial row of trees. It moved again. Swapping between cover, one trunk to the next.

'There!' she said. 'Did you see that?'

Mark stood and fell in beside her.

'Something moved in there.'

He was turned to her now.

'Is it an animal?'

No response.

'Mark?' More silence. She turned to him. 'Mark?'

Something flashed in his eyes, the same expression she'd seen earlier. He wanted to tell her something important again. But it wasn't that he loved her, just - she suddenly realized - as it hadn't been earlier. It had never been a look of love.

It had been a look of regret.

'I'm sorry, Sona.'

'Sorry for wha—'

He grabbed her around the neck and yanked her into him. Locked his arm around her throat and clamped a hand over her mouth. As she tried to scream, he squeezed harder with his fingers so that no sound escaped. Then he pulled her down with him, her legs desperately kicking out as she hit the grass. She looked up, her eyes pleading, trying to find a trace of the man she'd known for almost six months. Instead, he released the arm from her throat and punched her in the side of the head.

She rolled over, dazed. On to her back.

When she opened her eyes, Mark was standing over her.

'I can't do this any more,' he said, looking away at something.

And then everything went black.

PART TWO

Chapter Thirteen

It was late afternoon by the time I left the Carvers' house, the sky grey and streaked with black cloud. I opened the BMW and threw my notes on to the passenger seat. Then I slid in at the wheel and pulled the door shut. In the silence, I went over everything.

All the lies that had been told.

And all the lies that would still have to come.

Carver had led me into their house, pointing to one of the sofas. He glanced at Caroline, a look that told her everything. He was angry and embarrassed, and she was to blame.

'Would you like something to drink, David?' he asked quietly.

'Just some water will be fine, thanks.'

He nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Caroline circled the sofas and then perched herself on one of the arms. I could see she was trying to work things through before her husband came back. What she knew. What she should have done. Why she didn't say anything. Eventually she looked at me, and I could see whatever fractious relationship had begun to exist between us had just cracked a little more.

Carver came back in and handed me a big glass of water and then sat down next to his wife. There was a gap between them.

'Was Kaitlin sure?' he asked.

I sat down on the other sofa. Yes.'

'Why didn't she tell the police?'

I got out my notepad and pen and set them down on the table. On the top sheet were the words Megan — pregnant. I looked up at Carver. 'Kaitlin told me she was going to speak to the police… but then decided not to.'

'Why?'

'She was hesitant on the phone, so that's what I need to find out from her. I'll meet her and get the reasons why.'

'Who was the father?'

'Again, I don't know.' I paused, thought about it. 'Megan's friends never talked about any serious relationships. You haven't either. If she slept with someone, I think we can assume it was a guy no one had met.'

Carver flinched a little, as if the idea of his daughter sleeping with anyone was like a punch to the throat. Then, for the first time, he glanced at his wife.

'And you knew about this?'

'No,' she said.

'I need you to tell me the truth.'

'I am telling you the truth,' Caroline replied, desperation creeping into her voice. She looked at me, then shifted on the sofa, turning inwards to face her husband. 'She never told me she was pregnant. I swear to you.'

'But you knew anyway?'

'I could tell something was up. She was complaining of headaches, of feeling tired all the time. At first I just thought she'd been studying too hard. You know what Meg was like. But then, after she went missing, I was going through some of her things…' She paused. Looked at me again. 'I found some pregnancy tests hidden in one of her drawers.'

'Bloody hell, Car - and you didn't think to tell me?'

'I didn't know what to do.'

'Our daughter was pregnant.'

'I know.'

You should have told the police.'

'I know!' she shouted.

'So why didn't you?'

'It was an unopened box,' she said. 'The cellophane wrapping was still on it. It didn't mean anything'

'She was seventeen , Caroline.'

She didn't reply.

'Since when do seventeen-year-olds buy pregnancy kits just to be on the safe side? She was ten years away from starting a family. You should have told me. You should have told someone.' He glanced at me, then back to her. 'I defended you.'

'I know.'

He sat back on the sofa. Both of them fell silent. I gave them a couple of seconds to cool off, thinking about what might have happened if Caroline had said something to the police.

'Okay,' I said eventually, sitting forward. We need to make sure of a couple of things now. Firstly, the police can't know about this. At least, they can't know about the fact that Caroline suspected something. If they think you were withholding information, this whole thing goes down the toilet. I'll bring this information to them - but only when we're ready. I'll say I found it out for myself. That'll give us the time we need to try and dig a little deeper.'