After a few more minutes I notice that Dale has pulled into a kind of lay-by on the right, next to a police car. I stop and turn off my engine as I wait, hidden by the thicket of trees. I’m too far away to see Dale but I hear the slam of a car door. I leave it a while before I turn the ignition back on and then I drive very slowly into the lay-by and pull up next to Dale’s car. I plan to be quick, just to see where Dale has gone, and I’ll be back to my car before he notices it. I don’t want to risk him seeing me and annoying him because then he might not be so willing to help me. The ground is spongy as I step out but at least it’s stopped raining for now. From deep within the bowels of the forest I hear the hoot of an owl and I’m momentarily paralysed by fear. This is mad. What am I doing? I should just go back to the cabin and wait until I hear from Dale. But patience isn’t my strong point. I have to be doing something proactive. And what kind of a journalist would I be if I just stayed behind?
I continue walking, my mobile’s torch lighting the way. The track is narrow, more like a trench, and mud splashes up the back of my jeans and seeps into the soles of my flimsy fashionable boots. I don’t know if this is the way Dale went but I’m assuming so as it’s the main path. I concentrate on the way ahead, trying not to feel freaked out by the sounds of the countryside and the dark pressing in on me from all sides, except for the arc of light where I’m pointing my phone. Eventually I see the clearing up ahead. The same clearing I was in earlier today. Bile rises at the back of my throat when I notice a hub of activity near Ralph’s caravan: a white tent, two policemen erecting tape around it. There are flashes of torchlight and I can just about see someone I assume to be Dale heading into the tent with a woman in a forensic suit who is carrying a metal suitcase.
I hide behind a tree trying to catch my breath. The snap of a twig makes me freeze. The back of my neck prickles, as if someone has blown on it. I turn slowly, expecting to see someone behind me. Dale perhaps, furious, even though I’m sure I saw him go into the tent. But I can’t see anyone. I’d better get back to the car. I need to keep Dale onside if I want him to confide in me about what’s happened here tonight.
I make my way down the track, almost stumbling in my desperation to reach the safety of my car. Crime tape. Police. Forensics.
Ralph was murdered.
And the person responsible could still be here, in the forest.
Watching me.
As if on cue another twig snaps underfoot and I gasp in fright. There’s no denying it now. Someone is behind me. I can feel their presence. I don’t turn around. Instead I break into a run, slipping and sliding down the mud track. A brush to my shoulder. A hand trying to grab me. I scream, my legs buckling beneath me. A flash of pain to my head and then everything goes black.
18
I can hear a young child crying. It’s grating and insistent. Is it Finn? Finn …
Where am I? There is a shooting pain in my head, and when my eyes flicker open I see trees, so many trees, soaring upwards, their dark branches bobbing in the wind, the pine needles pressed together and eclipsing the sky. And then I remember. I’m in the forest. I’m lying on my back in the mud. I was being followed. The back of my head is throbbing. Someone attacked me. They could still be here. I have to get up. I need to get out of here and back to my car.
My hands sink beneath the mud as I try to winch myself up, and my whole body feels weak. Panic sets in at the thought my attacker is still here, waiting. My legs flail as I try to get a foothold on the ground but I manage to pull myself up and scramble to my knees. I need help. I look behind me, half expecting to see the perpetrator standing over me, but nobody’s there.
‘Hello?’ I hear a familiar voice from between the trees, then see a flicker of torchlight, bleaching the ground in front of me. It’s Dale, thank God. As he comes closer I see the disapproval on his face. ‘Jenna? What are you doing here?’ I’m still on my hands and knees and he bends down to help me to my feet. ‘What happened? Are you okay?’ I’m covered with mud – I can feel it in my hair and soaking into the back of my jeans. He’s still holding on to my elbow. ‘Did you fall?’
I feel like such an idiot. ‘I … I’m sorry. I wanted to see what was going on but then, on the way back to the car, someone was following me. They … they hit me …’ I must look a right idiot standing here in my mud-stained city clothes. What was I thinking?
He drops my elbow. Even in the dark I can tell he’s angry. ‘You shouldn’t be here, Jenna.’
I’ve messed everything up. He’s not going to trust me now and he won’t help me with my podcast. I wince as pain shoots up my neck and into the back of my head.
‘Are you hurt?’ His voice softens.
‘My head,’ I say, reaching up and touching it. I can feel something sticky. It’s either mud … or blood. Dale must take pity on me because he snakes an arm around my waist and helps me back down the track to my car. It’s started to rain again, heavier this time. I feel utterly miserable and in pain. ‘Did you hear that child crying?’ I ask desperately. I can see the dark shadows of our cars parked up ahead.
‘I think you should get checked over. You might be concussed.’
‘There was a child …’
He leads me to his car. When I try to protest, he says, ‘Jenna, you’re in no state to drive back yourself. I’m going to take you to A and E.’
Everything spins as I sink into his passenger seat gratefully, conscious I must be getting mud on it. How long had I been lying there unconscious? It must have been a while if Dale had finished and was heading back to the car. I touch the back of my head gingerly, and when my hand comes away I see blood all over my fingers.
‘Shit,’ says Dale, his face full of concern. ‘You’re bleeding quite a lot, Jenna. Here, take this.’ He hands me an old cloth that he must use for wiping the windscreen and I press it to the back of my head. ‘You think someone did this to you?’
I nod, and wince as the movement causes lights to erupt in front of my eyes. ‘Yes. Someone was following me. I felt a hand on my shoulder and then I – I can’t remember. I …’ I feel close to tears and swallow a few times, trying to compose myself.
As Dale reverses out of the lay-by I squint, trying to spot anyone lurking among the trees. But there’s nothing other than dark shadows flickering between the branches.
‘It was reckless of you,’ admonishes Dale, as he pulls onto the Devil’s Corridor.
‘Is it Ralph? Who was found dead?’
‘Yes,’ he says quietly.
‘What happened?’
‘It’s unexplained at the moment. We’ll know more after the pathologist’s report.’
‘Do you think he was murdered?’
‘Jenna.’ A warning in his tone.
I press my lips together and we don’t speak for a while. Despite the pain in my head guilt weaves its way around my insides until I blurt out tearfully, ‘I’m so sorry. This is the last thing you need after a busy day.’
‘It’s fine, Jenna. Really. I just want to make sure you’re okay.’
We lapse into silence and I stare miserably out of the window, the rag still pressed to the back of my head. I feel slightly sick.