dead, then someone must have moved him during that time. Thea would not have seen anything, because she was at the back of the house, and besides, this hollow was invisible, even from upstairs in the barn. It all seemed entirely reasonable, as she stood in the snow and thought about it.
She puzzled determinedly as she headed for the fatal spot. Small tentative clues were offering themselves to her, along with theories: the cattle might have been deliberately driven over the place to obscure evidence with their footprints; someone might have been watching her from the woods, seeing her discovery and waiting for her to go away before they ran down and dragged the dead man away. Doing her best to behave like a detective, she examined the fence itself for shreds of fabric or hair or blood, only to find nothing at all. It was a well-made barrier, the wire forming squares, firmly fixed to quite new-looking posts every ten yards or so. But there lacked the usual strand of barbed wire along the top, much to Thea’s relief. Even if it might have yielded evidence, the damage to her own skin and clothes as she climbed over it would not have been welcome.
The patch of woodland was the only viable cover, and even that was far enough away for the idea of hauling a dead body over the snow to it to seem doubtful. The ground sloped upwards in that direction, and somebody stumbling along dragging a corpse would leave a trail impossible to conceal. Even so, she was resolved to investigate. Doggedly she trudged across the field to the patch of trees.
The trees were bare, standing proud of the snow and making a clean stark picture that Thea paused to admire. She could imagine it as a striking photograph or oil painting. Even better as a woodcut, with William Morris-like overtones, tendrils and holly leaves poking through the enveloping snow. I’m delirious , she thought. They’ll find me curled up dead in the cold, at this rate. She turned and looked back the way she’d come, able to see the roof of Lucy’s Barn but nothing more, despite being on higher ground than the natural bowl where the body had been. It looked a dauntingly long way off.
There were two strands of wire between the field and the woodland, which looked old, but still effective in keeping out the cattle. Thea ducked between the strands, managing to avoid falling over. Only when she had straightened up and looked around did she wonder if this barrier was enough to cast mortal doubt on her hypothesis.How would anyone get a dead man over it, without again leaving telltale signs? Under the trees, the snow was only a few inches deep, but enough to be noticeably disturbed by the kind of activity she had in mind. There were brambles and dry stalks of bracken and other undergrowth to negotiate. There was no sign of a path.
And then she saw, in startling clarity, a trail. Deep grooves carved in the snow, about two feet apart, beginning seven or eight yards to her right and leading away from her in a northerly direction. Between the grooves was a line of footprints. She stood staring at it for two full minutes before she worked out that it could only have been somebody dragging a sledge. Somebody had loaded the dead man onto a vehicle with runners, and dragged it towards the village. She was rather pleased with herself for arriving at this deduction. How many times did such a thing happen in modern England? It conjured old Christmas cards, or rural life in the frozen north.
OK, she reasoned carefully, I was right all along. She went to the place where the track began, and found the wire sagging, and a jumble of animal footprints on the field side. Somebody had somehow carried the body across the field into these woods, and then put him on a sledge and towed it towards… She tried to work outwhere the tracks would lead if they continued in the same direction. The village centre, near enough, came the conclusion.
She easily followed the trail to the far side of the wood, and out
Bonnie Burnard
Nina Harrington
Will Wight
Cyril Edwards
E. L. Devine
Claire Adele
Liz Talley
Mel Odom
M. J. Trow
Wayne Lemmons