by Jackson Lear
“She was a photography student,” said Josh.
“Yeah. I guess it’s a nice view.”
“I wonder what the last picture on her camera was. Might be worth something one day.” He missed the glare that came his way. “All right, let’s go find the car.”
They rounded the side of the cliff and marched along the several hundred metres through the trees, keeping their heads up and their senses primed for anyone watching them. They listened out for what the birds reacted to, whether it was to them or something else out there. The leaves overhead still glistened from a short lived drizzle, the ground smelled like copper, and every crunch under foot alerted a raging sociopath to their location. Through a sliver between the trees came the sharp glint of sunlight reflecting off a battered, decrepit car.
Ian had gone over several details of what it was like before the police arrived. Glass jars lined the base of trees with nothing in them, plastic crates were littered about with wooden boards on top, creating either a work bench or something to sit on. There had been a tarp pulled down with rope and a mass of garbage nearby. None of that was still there. It had all been seized by the police. Only the rusted Datsun remained.
“That thing’s old,” said Anthony.
Josh looked over the landscape and dropped his backpack down. “I’m guessing it was too difficult to drive a tow truck in through here.”
“I’m impressed someone even managed to drive it this far in the first place,” said Anthony.
Josh bristled with energy as he pried the winch from his pack. “How far do you think we’ll get?”
“We’ll be lucky to get an entire car length done in two hours. That thing has been lying with the underside on the ground for decades. And the wheels are not going to help you, quite the opposite.”
“All right. Twenty pounds says we get the car out in two hours.”
“I’ll take your money,” said Anthony. “And don’t forget, you’re still planning to dig under that thing as well.”
Josh’s good mood dropped as he realised that two hours wasn’t anywhere near enough to find Catherine. He was also sure that Anthony had started their two hour countdown from the moment they found the barbed wire angel. Nevertheless, Josh set the winch onto the ground and Anthony helped him fasten the straps around the base of a sturdy tree before hooking it up to the front of the Datsun. Thankfully, Anthony had been able to provide thick elastic straps for the winch. It would be far less devastating being hit in the face with that than with a broken chain.
It was a hand operated winch, which certainly worked the forearms as the two men took turns in inching the car from its home. Anthony had been right about several problems they would soon encounter. The four tyres had sunk to the point where the bottom of car rested on the hard ground. That meant the tyres would put up one hell of a resistance as the ground refused to allow the car to slide through like mud. The other problem was an entirely human one. Josh took the first round and lasted five minutes on one arm and five on the next before falling exhausted. Anthony wasn’t able to do much better. Moving the car would be one thing. Digging through the ground would be another nightmare in itself.
“Come on, you bastard,” grunted Josh.
“I guess all that yoga is starting to pay off, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve spent the last ten years sitting on my arse in front of one computer or another. Aren’t you used to manual labour?”
“Of course, which is why I’m pacing myself.”
“Ohhhhh. Yeah, me too.”
“Can’t risk burning out.”
“Absolutely not.”
Whenever one man was free, he scanned the area with Anthony’s binoculars and remained on the look out for Toads. And that was the best case scenario. The worst was that someone else was out there, watching them dig up an old victim of theirs.
“Does Hannah know you’re out here?” asked Anthony.
“Nope. And let’s keep it that way for as long as possible, okay?”
Anthony did his best to agree with Josh, since Gemma was likely to have a similar reaction to Hannah if she found out what these two were up to. “What’s the range on a gun?”
Josh stopped winching and glanced over with an incredulous look on his face. “Hey?”
“I just want to know,” said Anthony, with a shrug.
“Effective range of a shotgun is fifty metres. A rifle can be several hundred.”
“But someone could still get lucky from a greater distance,” said Anthony.
“Yep.”
Anthony paced out fifty metres and raised a pointed hand towards Josh, seeing just how easy it would be to aim by eye sight. It wasn’t easy at all, and just the slightest tremor would throw him off completely, not to mention the number of trees in the way. Of course, a rifle with a scope would have an entirely different outcome.
Half an hour into it …
“Come on!” cried Josh.
The car slipped forward another millimetre.
“Caaaaaahm on!”
Another millimetre.
“Keep going,” said Anthony.
“I’m trying!”
“It’s slipping.”
Josh cranked the handle to the winch faster, and faster, burning through the last strength in his forearms until his muscles screamed at him.
“There!” cried Anthony.
Josh dropped the handle to the ground with a metallic clink, rolled himself onto his back, and heaved at the sky above. The car finally rested on the ground, free from the wheel-sized holes in the unforgiving mud.
Anthony paced around the car to survey their progress. “We’ve gone a foot.” His tone was dark and Josh was sure the next words of Anthony’s would be to call the whole thing off now, that it was too difficult to bother.
“To be fair, that was the most difficult part out of the way,” said Josh. He paused as a flutter of birds harked overhead. He glanced up, then dropped into a steely-eyed stare as he scanned the horizon. Something was out there.
Josh picked up the shovel and kept his eyes darting between the trees. Anthony did the same, but his grip was no where near as tight as Josh’s.
“I thought you didn’t spook easily,” said Anthony.
“We’re looking for a dead body in an active murder area. It’s not like walking to the kitchen at midnight and having your imagination get the better of you.” Josh dropped the shovel and returned to winching the car. “That said, keep an eye out, will ya?”
“Of course. Give me a minute, though.”
Josh spluttered at Anthony’s impeccable timing. “Sure. Take your time.”
Anthony slipped behind a tree and, instead of relieving himself, he pulled out his phone to send Amanda a message. ‘Josh and I are out doing something stupid and trying to find Catherine Shievers. If we don’t come back, tell the police to look for the Datsun near where Zofia was found.’
Two minutes later he had his answer.
‘WTF are you two doing out there?’
‘Is this really what you want to say as potentially the last thing I’ll ever read?’ Anthony asked.
‘Fine. Thank you for telling me. But I’m going to slap you both then next time I see you.’
Anthony felt his fingers typing beyond his control. ‘I miss you.’
Anthony rolled his eyes and groaned. “What the fuck did you send her that for?” He tried to figure out how to delete the message and had no idea what Gemma would do if she found it.
Correction: he knew exactly what Gemma would do if she found it.
Amanda sent him a response. ‘Go home Anthony. You’re drunk.’
Somehow, that made him smile.
Half an hour later, they had managed to drag the Datsun half of its length towards the tree. The ground beneath it was solid brown and hadn’t seen the light of day in decades. The back of the car was now aligned with the holes for the rear wheels. It was far enough forward for one man to dig while the other continued to winch the car out of the wa
y. Since the whole idea was Josh’s, he was volunteered to dig first.
Josh had brought along two collapsible shovels but the ground was as hard as rock. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised by that shuddering discovery, since no rain had seeped into the ground here in years, but he had hoped for a little more help from mother nature.
He had two theories about how the car got there in the first place. The most obvious was that it had been owned by a teenager who managed to drive it up to see if he could, before realising that there was no way to get it back onto the road. The second theory was that the car was stolen and dumped there. The outside was still intact. Both rear view mirrors were unbroken and there was no panel damage, so the car didn’t roll off the road. It simply had to be driven here. Perhaps the police knew the truth. No doubt the owner had been contacted in the last couple of weeks and questioned.
Josh and Anthony swapped roles several times and were careful to make sure that the rear wheels weren’t going to fall into the holes created by the front wheels, but thankfully the tree they used to anchor the winch wasn’t directly aligned with the car and it allowed the Datsun to be dragged out at an angle.
After yet another half an hour, the rear wheels finally passed the hole for the front wheels. It was time for both of them to dig.
“Time’s ticking away,” said Anthony.
“I know,” groaned Josh. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and focussed on the ground. Anthony did the same. A brightly coloured clown could have crept through the trees and both men would still have been none the wiser as they stared at the shallow hole, their lungs burning with exhaustion while hopeful that they were closer to the end than the start. “If it takes a little longer ...”
“I have to get back to work and then get home as though I’ve spent all day in the office,” said Anthony.
“Right,” said Josh. “And what happens if Catherine is here?”
Anthony’s shoulders dropped forward towards a hunch before he corrected his posture. One of his shoulders didn’t seem to want to pull back into place. “Honestly? It’s a good idea. It’s a solid idea. I like it more than digging up every garden that happened to be empty twenty years ago. But she could literally be anywhere in the world, so to believe that she is within one metre of us right now is a little ... optimistic?”
“Do you honestly believe she wasn’t kidnapped?” Josh asked.
Anthony wiped his forehead clean. “No. I believe she was killed and is buried within an hour’s drive of Luxford, which does include this area right now, but come on.”
“Maybe your sister knows who did it.”
Anthony pulled a dirty look on Josh.
“Not like that. Maybe she knows the person who did it without knowing that they’re a murderer.”
“How do you figure?”
“We were all out that night. There was a storm, it pissed down with rain and the power went out across the town. Claire was at a party that got interrupted by the police. She was grounded for the rest of her life.”
“So were you, as far as I remember.”
“Yep, which is why I’m still in Luxford all these years later,” said Josh, with a weak smile. “Anyway, the police broke up the party. Lots of eighteen year olds were walking back home or just looking for some kind of adventure. Then, lo and behold, one of them stumbles upon young Catherine. She’s caught in the storm as well. ‘Why don’t you come back to my place? Have a couple of drinks?’ She goes along at first, starts to think the better of it, tries to bail, and the guy she’s with gets a little too aggressive.”
Anthony nodded between digs. “Again, entirely possible, but we’re not likely to find out today.”
“No, we’re not. I’m just saying that Claire might actually know the person who did it and she was at the party with him that night.”
“Yeah, well, from what I’ve picked up during her drunken confessions she was actually a bit of a wild child growing up.”
Josh shot both eyes at Anthony and grinned. “Really?”
Anthony nodded. “And I may have read her diary when I was fifteen.”
“Wow. I always thought she was kind of straight laced.”
“She was, but even Claire needs to let their hair down once in a while.”
“I guess. Sure is a change to how I remember her. And how she is now.”
“Well, when you get left with a baby boy and a divorce at twenty four, your priorities tend to shift.”
Josh paused and glanced at Anthony, aware that they both had a shovel and were more worn out than either of them cared to admit. “Can I ask you something that is probably going to be very offensive?”
Anthony grunted and felt the question coming. It was one that his parents had shouted at both himself and his sister many times through their childhood.
“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if it had been Claire instead of Catherine?”
“My dad certainly did,” said Anthony. “I never really connected any of it. Even now I know the last twenty years was with Claire and without Catherine. Thankfully Claire was never found with a blowjob list.”
“I daresay if she had your parents would have responded with calm and soothing words,” said Josh.
Anthony grunted out a short breath. “Sure. Calm and soothing. How would you be if you found Hannah’s list?”
“Depends if someone’s name has been added in the last five years, other than mine.”
Anthony eased his back as he glanced across the treeline. “The moment Tom came along I had that overwhelming panic that something could happen to him at any moment.”
“Isn’t that normal?”
“Yeah, but you don’t realise how debilitating or constant it is. If I could remove one thing about being a parent it would be the terrifying fear that they’ve just found a new way to kill themselves or that someone has taken them.”
Josh dug in silence.
“One thing I do remember from back then; if someone had killed Claire instead of Catherine you and I would’ve found her within a month.”
“You’re sure?”
Anthony got back into it. “We would have dug up everything and everywhere to find her. You would have picked a spot to try and dig, we would have done so, and if we didn’t find her there we would have picked another spot to try. We would have gone through every tunnel and every creep’s house until we found her. Fuck being grounded.”
“Yeah. Fuck being–”
The ground broke away, allowing dirt to trickle into an empty space. Both men froze to give their pulses a moment to catch up. Josh nudged the shovel into the ground again, shifting the dirt away. A tiny dark hole appeared, no larger than the size of a coin. Along with it came another trickle of dirt through an empty space.
A smile all but exploded across Josh’s face. He tossed his shovel to the side and brushed the dirt away with his hands, then he forced the hole to expand until it was large enough to slide his fingers inside.
“There’s fabric,” said Josh, as the dirt jabbed at his twisting wrist. He scraped more away and found some kind of smooth, brown lining.
“Careful, that might be her leg,” said Anthony.
“It’s not, it’s … old leather, or something.”
Anthony dropped down and helped to scoop out one handful of dirt after another. As he did so, the faded brown surface came to life.
“It’s a leather suitcase,” mumbled Josh.
Anthony locked his hands around the shovel’s handle, tightening his grip with every second until his knuckles turned alpine white. His mind spun into a frenzy, rolling from one horror to another.
No one just buries a suitcase like this, not under a car so that it remains hidden for years. Not unless there was something worth hiding stuffed inside.
And no one digs up a dead girl based on just a hunch, not unless you’re Joshua Barton.
Josh pulled out his phone, turned the flash on and set it to film. He slid his hand into the suitcase and slowly scann
ed the area inside. Just as quickly he pulled his hand free and replayed the video.
They couldn’t see her face, but whoever they found was curled up in a foetal position with her knees pressed against her eyes.
A rush of euphoria hit Josh like a bolt of lighting striking the ground. “I knew it!” He jumped to his feet and thumped his fists into the air. “I fucking knew she was here!”
Anthony peered in through the gap with what seemed to be the inability to swallow. He was now no better than his dumbass nephew, hunting through the valley for a dead body. Worse still, they wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about this.
“We did it!” shouted Josh. “Twenty years on and we found her!”
“Yeah, we found her,” mumbled Anthony. That evening the Shievers might finally hear the news that their daughter had been found, that she had been murdered, and that she wasn’t going to come home after all.
Josh fell into a deep sigh and the grin only left his face when he locked eyes with Anthony. There was a weight there, an impossibly heavy one, and it seemed to suffocate the father of two.
“You okay?” asked Josh.
Anthony stared at the open hole while barely able to move. “This … is a problem.”
“How?”
“There’s no way we can keep this a secret.”
“What? There’s no secret here, we’re definitely telling the police.”
“A secret from everyone else,” mumbled Anthony.
“Fuck everyone else.”
Anthony shook his head as his oldest friend just didn’t seem to understand. “I skipped work to go body hunting in the most dangerous spot in Luxford all based on a hunch by my morally bankrupt best friend.”
