Authors: James Marrison

The Drowning Ground (38 page)

BOOK: The Drowning Ground

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Lang looked up. âWell, the dog just kept on barking. It was still tied up to the tree branch. I was sure someone was going to come out and see what all the noise was about. So I tried to calm it down a bit. But it was no use, of course. It just kept barking more and more loudly, and I thought, my God, the whole village can probably hear it. Someone's going to come up here any second and see me. So IÂ â¦ well, it was already tied up, so I just pulled on the lead. Didn't look. Just kept pulling. I couldn't let it go. It would have gone for me straightaway. I didn't have a choice.'

âAnd you went home?'

âYes, I went back the way I had come. I was in a state. Couldn't think clearly. Wasn't sure how it had really happened. Seemed as if it hadn't happened to me at all. My wife was still out. So I knew I had some time to get myself together. I changed out of my clothes and had a shower, and then I started to think. If he has the diary, it must be somewhere in the house. It's going to be found. I panicked for a while. Thought about going out there immediately â even got in the car. Had to stop myself. Went back into the house. Had another drink. Tried to think it over. Someone could have found his body up there, so the police might already be at the house. I'd have to wait. So I waited.'

âUntil the next night?'

âYes. I waited until my wife was asleep. I parked in the village. And then I walked over the fields and went back to the house. There was a police car out the front, but the man in it was fast asleep, so I went round to the sheds. The back doors were wide open.'

âSo you thought you'd destroy the diary?'

âYes, and Rebecca's body too. It would be buried beneath all that rubble forever.'

âAnd you'd be in the clear. But we got her out. And then you got the call from Nancy. Hurst hadn't found her diary after all. Nancy had it. She'd found it when she was cleaning. So Hurst had no proof,' I said. âBut he'd begun to suspect. He didn't believe in the postcards any more. Not after you used them to lure him away and search her room.' I put my hands behind my head. âYou know, I always had a feeling after Sarah Hurst was killed that Frank was lying about something, or covering up something, or not telling me something. I kept on at him â kept on going back to his house, but he wouldn't give. Obstinate bastard,' I said almost fondly. âHe was trying to draw you out, Lang. He didn't know, but he suspected. I think deep down he knew what she was, and what she might have done, but he couldn't face it. But if anyone else could have seen what she was, it would have been you, and Hurst damned well knew it. He was trying to scare you to see how you'd react.' I leant forward. âAnd then, when you thought it was all over and you were in the clear, you got a call from Nancy.'

âYes,' Lang said. He looked utterly exhausted.

âBut you read the diary.'

âYes.'

âDid it say?' I said quickly. âDid it say where Rebecca buried Gail?'

Lang looked up at me very sharply. âWell, no, of course it didn't. Not directly. Butâ¦' Then slowly it dawned on him. âBut you told me you'd read it. You've got a copy. Why do you need me toâ¦' He stopped. âYou don't have a copy at all, do you?' he said, and closed his eyes.

I shook my head. âNancy kept her side of the bargain as far we know, Lang.'

âSo you were lying?' Lang said in a flat voice.

I shrugged.

He looked at me long and hard, but in fact he did not seem that surprised. The room was silent. There wasn't much fight left in him. âAll right,' he said. âGod. I don't know how much longer I could have kept it up anyway. Not after Nancy. Not after that.'

âDid Rebecca make any mention of where she buried Gail in the diary?' Graves said. âCome on, help us out here, Lang. Come on.'

âYes. She mentioned looking at her. Looking at her before she went to sleep sometimes.'

âSo she could see it from her window, you mean,' I said.

Lang nodded. âShe mentioned some trees, I think. Out in the fields, or on the hill.'

Lang was staring up at me. He seemed to have collapsed in on himself. His shoulders were hunched in. He looked smaller somehow. He'd killed three people. One out of anger, and two just to save his own skin. Yet I couldn't help but feel a trace of pity for him. Then it was gone.

Lang looked up and stared wildly across the table. He looked at Graves first and then at me. His voice sounded ragged. âYou must understand,' he said. âIf it hadn't been for me, Rebecca would have kept on doing it. If I'd let her go, she would have kept on killing. There would have been others.'

I pushed back my chair. âYes,' I said. âI think you're right about that. But I don't think that's going to help you all that much, I'm afraid.' I stood up to leave, and Graves followed. I looked back at Lang, staring across the room. He hadn't reacted to what I'd said. Or maybe he just hadn't heard me.

It was early morning when we finally left the featureless walls of the station behind us. It had been a very long night, and I had decided to give Graves the rest of the day off. He deserved it. We strolled out the front door and down the gritted steps.

âSo you think Hurst knew, then?' Graves said.

I shrugged. âMaybe. Not all of it. But he probably knew that she'd been home the afternoon her stepmother had had her accident. Or maybe suspected. That was what he was covering up when I tried to talk to him years ago.'

âBut how did you know, sir? When did you begin to suspect that it could have been Rebecca who made those two girls disappear?'

âThe night before last. I was thinking about the pond in the village and how it had been used before asÂ â¦ as a murder weapon.'

âA murder weapon?'

âYes, the locals used to drown witches in it,' I said. âWell, old women they thought were witches. Powell, my old partner, told me. And then I started to think about one of Rebecca's friends as well. Her friend Alice, her only friend at school, said the girls gave Rebecca a wide berth right from the start. Alice thought it was because Rebecca was new. But I think it was more than that. I think the girls felt an instinctive aversion to her. Could maybe sense something about her, much as her housemistress did later on. And then there was something else. Rebecca didn't know Alice all that well and seemed perfectly happy on her own. So why did she invite Alice over to her house? I think she wanted to prove how clever she had been, just like she did with Lang. Alice knew about Sarah's accident in the swimming pool, so Rebecca must have told her. I'm going to have a talk with her later, but I think that Rebecca probably told her about the pond as well. She might even have taken Alice into those woods Lang was talking about.'

We walked on. âSo what now?' I said.

Graves tightened his scarf round his neck. âI'm going to get some breakfast,' he said, as if he had decided on that some time ago. âA big fry-up at a greasy spoon. And then I suppose I'm going to have to do some Christmas shopping over in Cheltenham before it gets mobbed â just like it was the last time we were there.'

âAll right,' I said. âI'll see you tomorrow.'

I waved and watched Graves walk towards the street, his shadow trailing behind him and his shoes crunching loudly in the snow. I was secretly very pleased with my new sergeant. A wave of exhaustion suddenly came over me. I breathed in the crisp air and let the coldness of the morning seep under the collar of my coat. I wondered vaguely if Lang was finally asleep in his cell.

I plucked the keys out of my pocket, threw them in the air and caught them in the palm of my hand, although I wasn't going home just yet. Abruptly, I turned around and began to walk back to the station. I had to phone Elise's parents and tell them that I was on my way to see them. Then I would have to drive out there and tell them in person. But before that I had to talk to Gail's mother.

I would lie to them as much as I could. I would tell them that for Elise and Gail, it had been mercifully quick and that they had both gone in peace to their graves.

*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *

In the end it didn't take us long to find Gail. Rebecca had buried her in a shallow grave in a small copse of trees just where the hill began to rise gently on the other side of the garden wall. When I glanced back at where the house had been, I realized with a shudder that Lang had been right: Rebecca would have been able to see the grave from her bedroom window. For a moment, it was as if the cold shadow of Dashwood Manor rose behind us. And staring out of the window was Rebecca. Smiling perhaps. Her face pressed against the glass and looking down on us all.

We had been there for a few hours when one of the men turned round and gave me a curt nod, and we knew that it was nearly over. I phoned Brewin, and we waited. He had been expecting the call and arrived half an hour later. Still, I didn't give the order to continue.

I hesitated because I suppose a part of me wanted to leave her there a moment longer in that remote spot. Gail had been part of the very earth itself, and she had been far away from the enclosed darkness of a cemetery. She had been out here amongst these ancient hills. The ground beyond her unmarked grave was covered in a fresh layer of snow. Bright in the late-afternoon sun. A few leaves fell. Others were already gathered together in the cold, lying amongst the scattered branches.

But I was aware of the men waiting, and Brewin shifting impatiently beside me, so I gave the order. Gail had been out here for too long amongst the whispering trees, and I couldn't let her stay.

About the Author

JAMES MARRISON
is a journalist with a Master's degree in history, specializing in American Secret Intelligence, from the University of Edinburgh in England. Marrison was a regular contributor to Bizarre magazine in the UK, where he wrote about true crime, and he also wrote for an English language newspaper in Buenos Aires, Argentina, where he now lives.
The Drowning Ground
is his first novel. You can sign up for email updates
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