Sycamore Gap: A DCI Ryan Mystery(2)

The enormity of what he had done surged through his body, the heady feeling of power swamping him so that he needed to rest awhile against the side of the wall to catch his breath. He watched the final descent of the sun against the horizon and felt reborn, like a caged bird finally set free.

He stood up to check that they were still alone and then considered his options. He could carry her to the lake and dump her in there, but that would be an arduous journey with her added weight. Likewise, it was too far to carry her back to his car and there was more chance of him being noticed. He supposed he could bury her somewhere, but he had not brought the tools to dig.

His eye fell on the wall where she had dislodged the stones, then back to where Amy lay motionless. He was wearing gloves but he wondered about the rest. She did not carry a backpack, so he searched her pockets and removed any identifying articles. It might buy him some time, once her body was discovered.

If it was discovered.

A while later, he climbed the hill and surveyed the gap with its tree in the middle. The wall looked exactly as it always had: timeless and immoveable.

He turned away, melting into the darkness.



A little further over the brow of the hill, a bonfire burned tall and bright and its smoke billowed into the night sky. Around it, men and women danced, their bodies pliant and their minds intoxicated. A man wearing a long animal pelt threw his hands aloft and chanted, calling to his Master. The circle swayed and followed his call.

One of their circle was missing, a fact which had not gone unnoticed.





CHAPTER 1


Sunday, June 21th 2015 – The Summer Solstice

It was a perfect day for walking. The morning had broken and washed the sky in technicolour; palest lemon blending into brazen orange and deep, dark ochre. Wispy clouds scattered here and there but, for the most part, the day was clear and the air was crisp.

Colin Hart had been up well before the sun had risen, allowing himself enough time to hike the trail and to enjoy the view from the top of the fells. He had been to this special corner of the world before, but the beauty of it never aged. The landscape undulated all around him, old as time and scarred only by the presence of the long, stone wall built by Hadrian.

Alone, he stood a little longer appreciating the scenery and took a sip of water from his flask before tucking it safely back into its specialist holder. He checked the laces on his top-of-the-range hiking boots. Satisfied that all was in order, he turned away from the hypnotic sun and continued to walk along the track, which ran beside Hadrian’s Wall from the Roman fort of Housesteads in a westerly direction all the way into Cumbria. He knew that a lot of visitors probably walked on top of those ancient stones, unable to resist the allure, but he was someone who went by the book. What would happen if everyone flouted the rules? The stones would crumble away to nothing and there wouldn’t be anything left for the next generation to enjoy. That’s what would happen, he thought righteously.

He continued to meander along the worn trail, idly wondering how many centurions had stomped the ground before him. Sprigs of lavender sprouted from the gaps in the stones and clumps of heather bloomed purple, infusing the air with their scent. Tiny white flowers had risen beside the pathway and he wondered how they had found their way to this remote spot. He enjoyed the feel of his lungs labouring as he walked the inclines and felt the momentary fear of falling as he traversed the dips. Eventually, he slowed and came to rest under a large, leafy sycamore tree whose roots had grown thick and strong. He fished out a postcard with an artsy photograph taken of this very place and was content.

Colin shifted his backpack and shuffled down to rest against the side of the wall. Under the shade of the tree, he looked out across the valley and thought about the errands he had yet to do when he returned home, mostly for his mother. He shifted uncomfortably and rubbed at the back of his neck. The stones were sharper than they looked. Unable to find comfort, he half rose, intending to move further away, when his eye caught sight of something shiny. Intrigued, he pushed his face closer to the wall and wished for more light.

His prayers were answered as the morning came to life at that moment. Sunlight washed over the wall and he saw it fully then, the glint of silver between the cracks.

Excited now, he began to tug at the stones and then froze guiltily. He shouldn’t be tampering with the wall, like this. It wasn’t right.

But the silver winked at him.

All hesitation forgotten, he put his weight behind the stones until the first one began to shift and give way. Emboldened, he started on another, then another …

His hands covered in dust and chalk, he simply fell backwards and stared at the hole he had made in the wall and, beyond that, to what lay in its cavity. A silver bracelet, mostly dulled with age, hung loosely from the wrist of what was once a person. Now, all that remained was a pile of desiccated bones, shoved haphazardly inside the hollowed-out space. A skull stared back at him with empty eyes and gaping jaw.