angel.
It would be so simple to dob him in then and there. Heâd broken the spirit of their deal, no question. All those juicy fat lies of his that sheâd kept to herself in exchange for what? One measly night-time stroll down Diamond Jackâs Trail.
On the other hand, he had gone to the tip to look for Shorn Connery all by himself. She owed him one for that. And the bottom line was, no matter how bad a deal sheâd made, when it came to the crunch, a deal was a deal. She had to live with it. She tiptoed on past Willâs towards Diamond Jackâs Trail.
By the time Pollo reached the cemetery the tombstones were casting long shadows. Off in the distance, on the far side of the meadow near the forest, Pollo noticed two figures. Having been deserted all through summer, the cemetery lately was like a shopping mall! The larger of the figures was standing back, as though issuing orders, while the other looked to be banging in a stake. She squinted through the half-light. Several other stakes fluttering with neon-pink tape were dotted about the field.
As Pollo watched, the larger man touched his hairline in a gesture Pollo recognised. Mayor Bullock! What was he doing out here? She couldnât let him see her, dressed in her surveillance gear and carrying her anti-vampirearsenal. Pushing aside a frond with her wooden stake, she hurried on.
To reach the abandoned railway bridge sheâd have to go past the rangerâs hut. A few hundred metres beyond it, the trail forked, the two halves curving away and almost meeting again, like the outline of a heart. The track on the left went down to the bridge where Sherri and von Albericht would be waiting for her. Pollo knew the spot well. Sheâd spent a good deal of time there spying on the citizens of Riddle Gully, though not so much from on top of the bridge as from under it, perched on the slimy rocks, fat black spiders in the nooks of giant crossbeams watching her every move.
The other track rose to the clearing where Diamond Jack had been riddled with bullets. Thatâs where she was headed.
It was eerily quiet on the trail without Shorn Connery, every twig-crunch underfoot sounding like a gunshot. She forced herself to keep marching, humming a lively tune and clicking her fingers. Through the trees ahead she caught a glimpse of the rangerâs hut. Not much further to go. She softened her tread, taking care to step on patches of moss and not the crunching limestone.
A few minutes later sheâd reached the fork. She drew back against a tree and pulled her beanie low. She could make out voices below her. Sherriâs snorting laugh shot through the trees. There was no mistaking that.
She turned to the right and crept along the narrow,winding track to the small clearing and the clump of boulders in front of which Diamond Jack had dragged his last breath.
Sherri might have given up on her by now. Pollo hoped so. You found out a lot more about people when they werenât expecting you.
She edged into position against the largest boulder, still warm from the sun. The two voices were clear. Von Alberichtâs, deep and intense, was doing most of the talking, the main sounds from Sherri being admiring ooohs and aaahs. Pollo crouched against the rock, her notepad at the ready, straining to make out what von Albericht was saying.
Suddenly the voices stopped. Pollo waited but the silence continued, broken only by the fluttering of dry leaves to the forest floor. Still nothing. Pollo inched her nose up the side of the boulder, barely breathing. Sheâd be able to see them ... over the top ... of the rock ... any second.
As a frog in warming water realises too late the danger itâs in, she became aware of another sound above the gentle stirring of the forest. A sound soft and regular. Sneaking up behind her. The sound of someone breathing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sunday 19:00
Pollo grabbed her stake with both hands and spun around. The point
It would be so simple to dob him in then and there. Heâd broken the spirit of their deal, no question. All those juicy fat lies of his that sheâd kept to herself in exchange for what? One measly night-time stroll down Diamond Jackâs Trail.
On the other hand, he had gone to the tip to look for Shorn Connery all by himself. She owed him one for that. And the bottom line was, no matter how bad a deal sheâd made, when it came to the crunch, a deal was a deal. She had to live with it. She tiptoed on past Willâs towards Diamond Jackâs Trail.
By the time Pollo reached the cemetery the tombstones were casting long shadows. Off in the distance, on the far side of the meadow near the forest, Pollo noticed two figures. Having been deserted all through summer, the cemetery lately was like a shopping mall! The larger of the figures was standing back, as though issuing orders, while the other looked to be banging in a stake. She squinted through the half-light. Several other stakes fluttering with neon-pink tape were dotted about the field.
As Pollo watched, the larger man touched his hairline in a gesture Pollo recognised. Mayor Bullock! What was he doing out here? She couldnât let him see her, dressed in her surveillance gear and carrying her anti-vampirearsenal. Pushing aside a frond with her wooden stake, she hurried on.
To reach the abandoned railway bridge sheâd have to go past the rangerâs hut. A few hundred metres beyond it, the trail forked, the two halves curving away and almost meeting again, like the outline of a heart. The track on the left went down to the bridge where Sherri and von Albericht would be waiting for her. Pollo knew the spot well. Sheâd spent a good deal of time there spying on the citizens of Riddle Gully, though not so much from on top of the bridge as from under it, perched on the slimy rocks, fat black spiders in the nooks of giant crossbeams watching her every move.
The other track rose to the clearing where Diamond Jack had been riddled with bullets. Thatâs where she was headed.
It was eerily quiet on the trail without Shorn Connery, every twig-crunch underfoot sounding like a gunshot. She forced herself to keep marching, humming a lively tune and clicking her fingers. Through the trees ahead she caught a glimpse of the rangerâs hut. Not much further to go. She softened her tread, taking care to step on patches of moss and not the crunching limestone.
A few minutes later sheâd reached the fork. She drew back against a tree and pulled her beanie low. She could make out voices below her. Sherriâs snorting laugh shot through the trees. There was no mistaking that.
She turned to the right and crept along the narrow,winding track to the small clearing and the clump of boulders in front of which Diamond Jack had dragged his last breath.
Sherri might have given up on her by now. Pollo hoped so. You found out a lot more about people when they werenât expecting you.
She edged into position against the largest boulder, still warm from the sun. The two voices were clear. Von Alberichtâs, deep and intense, was doing most of the talking, the main sounds from Sherri being admiring ooohs and aaahs. Pollo crouched against the rock, her notepad at the ready, straining to make out what von Albericht was saying.
Suddenly the voices stopped. Pollo waited but the silence continued, broken only by the fluttering of dry leaves to the forest floor. Still nothing. Pollo inched her nose up the side of the boulder, barely breathing. Sheâd be able to see them ... over the top ... of the rock ... any second.
As a frog in warming water realises too late the danger itâs in, she became aware of another sound above the gentle stirring of the forest. A sound soft and regular. Sneaking up behind her. The sound of someone breathing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sunday 19:00
Pollo grabbed her stake with both hands and spun around. The point
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