Maybe it was just that words like ‘love’ had still seemed incongruous in that rather tough environment. Incongruous, maybe even melodramatic. And perhaps a little risky – because, like it or not, people had a habit of dying in their line of work.
Of course knowing that, the fact the word had slipped out of Mark in the honest heat of the moment had made it all the more credible. Little wonder that forever after Gemma had wondered how she’d have responded if she’d picked up on it at the time; whether she would have moderated her exasperation enough to save the situation. But it was too late now, as she kept on reminding herself. It was way too late now.
Struggling to suppress a sigh, Gemma clambered over their fourth farm-gate of the night. ‘You certain you know where you’re going, Hazel? We seem to have been following this road for ages.’
‘I think so,’ Hazel replied, waiting on the other side.
‘We’ve not by some chance stumbled upon the one place on earth where roads actually lead nowhere?’
‘If it’s the road I’m thinking of, it leads to the other end of the Cradle. There’s a path from there, which dips down to the south end of the tarn. We should be able to get back to the Keld that way. It’s a long walk, mind.’
‘And do you think that too?’ Gemma wondered. ‘Or in this case do you actually know?’
Hazel shot her a look. ‘I’m doing the best I can, Superintendent Piper. I haven’t been up on these fells for quite a few years.’
‘I thought you were supposed to be a local?’ Try as she may, Gemma couldn’t keep the weary irritation from her voice.
‘You’re a Cockney … do you know every backstreet in London?’
‘No … but the difference is I wouldn’t go wandering them in the dark when there’s a madman loose with a pistol.’
They plodded wearily on.
‘You don’t like me very much, do you?’ Hazel eventually said.
‘I think you probably mean well.’
‘Oh … “probably”?’
‘Well, let’s not beat around the bush. Let’s say what we think. Going up to Annie Beckwith’s farm on your own was extremely reckless, and as a result one police officer is dead and the rest of us are in a raft of trouble.’
‘Was I supposed to ignore Annie’s plight?’
‘From what I saw, you people had done a pretty good job of ignoring her up ’til now.’
‘I …’ Hazel hesitated. ‘I can’t deny it, but I don’t think that’s the reason you dislike me. You were Mark’s girlfriend once, weren’t you?’
‘So he’s been talking, has he?’
‘No fury like a woman scorned, eh?’
Gemma glanced around. She opened her mouth, but a second passed, and thinking better of speaking, she strode on.
Hazel made sure there was a yard or so between them as she followed. ‘I see you’re not trying to deny it.’
‘You supposedly know where you’re going. Why don’t you concentrate on that, Ms Carter? And in the meantime do us both a favour, and zip it!’
‘Zip it?’ Despite her growing fatigue, Hazel was startled. ‘How bloody dare you! It may be such a new predicament for you that you can’t grapple with it, but I’m not under your command … okay? I’m not some junior bloody officer you can boss around all day just because it’s your time of the month.’
Gemma threw her another sharp glance, this one so threatening that Hazel edged away from her, though she continued her tirade.
‘Who do you think you are anyway … a queen? Because I’ve got news for you, Ms Piper … out here, you’re nothing. A spring lamb would have more chance surviving in this wilderness than you. So you can kick the bully-boy act. It might have worked with Mark … in fact it did work with him. He’s a lovely guy, but he’s miserable as sin up here. Which by the looks of it, is exactly what you wanted …’
‘Have you quite finished?’ Gemma asked, rounding on her.
Hazel held her ground defiantly.
‘Have you?’ Gemma asked again. ‘Because you’re making an awful lot of noise and not actually saying anything. Let me tell you what I know about Mark, shall I! Up here – in this bloody wilderness – is exactly where he needs to be. You understand that, I hope. He is in totally the right place. You see, once upon a time Heck was consistently the most productive officer in my department. But he was extremely difficult to manage, even for me. He doesn’t do subtle, he doesn’t do discreet, he doesn’t do politics … not even the office variety. He’s a wild-card and a supervisor’s nightmare. And where he is now, king of a castle no one else cares about, is the inevitable result of that.’ Gemma jabbed a finger. ‘And you can pretend to be outraged all you want, but the fact remains we almost died tonight, thanks to you. If you were under my command, Hazel, you can be damn sure I wouldn’t have left things at “zip it”!’ She turned and stalked on.
Hazel followed, disconsolate rather than angry. ‘And are you going to take him back with you? Because that’s what he wants.’
Gemma snorted with contempt.
You’re not my bloody gaffer. Or anything else.
‘You could’ve fooled me,’ she said.
The vegetation Heck was now trying to climb down through, though it was mostly dead, was still luxuriant, not to mention littered with fragments of cable from the collapsed bridge. In addition, the scree surface underneath it made treacherous footing. It could have been worse of course. Had the entire structure simply dropped, rather than swung over to this side of the canyon, he would have plummeted a thousand feet. He didn’t even like to contemplate the odds stacked against him when the aged metal had first given way. To say he’d been fortunate would be the understatement of all time.
That said, though it was a broad slope, so there was no danger of falling over a precipice, the descent was trickier than he’d anticipated. Heck had no light with which to guide himself, his torch having flown from his belt during the fall, and so ended up on his backside at least six times before the gradient at last began to flatten out. Long before he reached level ground, he heard the trickling of a beck, but only actually located it after descending a couple of hundred metres. It was clear and shallow and about twenty yards in breadth as it meandered along the valley bottom, weaving between embankments crammed with mature pines.
Heck was cold and aching all over, but he also had a raging thirst. He picked his way across loose, heavy cobblestones cluttering the water’s edge, and scooped it up in cupped hands. The icy refreshment cut sharply down his phlegmy throat. He threw a couple of handfuls over his head as well, washing the wound on his temple, and mopping back his hair. It probably wasn’t the most sensible move; the temperature was only just above freezing, after all. But the only real solution to any of this was to get back down into the Cradle as quickly as possible. Heck still didn’t have the first idea where he was, but following the course of the beck seemed like a plan. At present it only progressed in loops and whorls, but it was bound to spill into the tarn eventually. He tried his phone as he limped along, though that was an act of hope rather than realism, and as usual hope proved ill-founded.
Then he heard the whistling.
It