It had been strange to hear Peter’s voice after so many years. On the same rowing team at university, they’d drifted apart after Dan had chosen to join the army. Dan scratched at the stubble forming on his chin and stared into space. He remembered Peter as a big man who knew how to fight if he had to. It just didn’t seem right he’d be so easy to attack.
Dan couldn’t remember ever hearing Peter sound so scared before though and as he listened to the message again, he wondered what Peter had uncovered through his latest research to warrant such a reaction.
He stood up, made the coffee, then sipped it slowly, pacing the kitchen. He couldn’t ignore his friend’s last request. He’d have to check that Peter’s ex-wife, Sarah, was okay – if he could find her. He’d heard from a mutual acquaintance that Peter and Sarah had split up a while ago. His put his coffee mug down and slid a notebook and pen towards him. He picked up his mobile again. He vaguely remembered Peter saying his ex-wife was now a reporter for one of the national newspapers. He yawned as he scrolled through the phone numbers listed in the online telephone directory. Perhaps her editor would be able to tell him where to find her.
Dialling the newspaper’s office, he was put through to the editor, Gus Saunders who, after giving Dan a grilling the local constabulary would be proud of, reluctantly passed on Sarah’s current address and telephone number.
Dan dialled and flicked through the newspaper while he waited for an answer. There was none. He hung up and looked around the kitchen. He sighed. Maybe he should pay a visit to the ex-Mrs Edgewater. At least it would give him something to do, rather than stare at the walls waiting for the next mining job to find him.
Half an hour later, Dan was making his way down the main road towards Sutton Courtenay. After he turned off at the junction, he drove along the ring road until he reached a roundabout and turned left. According to her editor, Sarah’s house was located in a small lane about a mile into the village.
He spotted number thirty-seven straight away, a pretty three-bedroom cottage set back from the road. On the end of a row, it had a small neat garden sheltering behind a low white fence, a public footpath to the right of the property leading back to the main road.
He steered the car into a parking bay outside, switched off the engine and got out of the car. He had no idea what he was going to say but Peter had asked him to do this and, in the circumstances, it was the least he could do.
‘Here goes,’ mumbled Dan to himself as he walked up the path and rang the door bell.
As he waited for the door to be opened, Dan self-consciously tried to smooth down his wild hair and tugged at his jacket. He glanced down at his boots. He noticed how scuffed they were. Then tried to remember when he’d last polished them. It seemed a lifetime ago when polishing boots had been second nature. He sniffed, forced the memory from his thoughts and glanced up at the front door. The cold air clung to his ears and fingers, a biting bitter breeze whipping at his hair. He willed the door to open – soon, before he froze.
A light was switched on – the pale glow shining through the four panes of glass embedded in the top of the wooden door. Dan’s face glowed in the reflection. The grey afternoon daylight was quickly fading; another snow storm threatened. Dan stepped back from the shelter of the front porch and glanced upwards, willing the storm clouds away. He didn’t want to get stuck here. Just do the dutiful thing, find out what Peter had been up to, then get out fast.
The silhouette of a figure bobbed in front of the door. Hesitated.
‘Who is it?’ A muffled question, loaded with intent. Give the wrong answer, the door would never open.
Dan thought about first impressions. And automatically reached up to smooth his hair down again. He took a deep breath. ‘My name’s Dan. I’m a friend of Pete’s.’ He paused. ‘A real friend.’ He peered through the fuzz of the pock-marked glass.
A tall, slender woman, with pale brown hair peered back through. Hesitated.
Then Dan heard the sound of a security chain as it rattled against the wooden surface. The woman hesitated again, then the bolt slid back and the door opened.
Dan looked. The woman was pale, wrapped in a sweater three times too big for her body, thrown over skinny jeans. She wore thick socks. Dan blinked as the warmth from the house enveloped him.
‘What do you want?’ whispered the woman.
‘I want to help,’ he said.
The woman nodded. ‘He wrote and said you might come.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Sarah,’ she said.
Dan took it with a small smile. ‘I hoped you would be,’ he said. ‘Can I come in? It’s bloody freezing out here.’
Chapter 6
Dan sat on the sofa opposite Sarah. As he set his coffee mug down on the table between them, he noticed a thin layer of dust had gathered through mournful neglect. A log fire burned in a fireplace, throwing out warmth around the small living area and casting shadows on the walls.
He looked up, caught Sarah watching him and smiled nervously. She looked worn down, her light brown hair tied back in a ponytail and her face devoid of any make-up. Tall and naturally slim, she appeared to have lost a lot of weight in a short space of time.
Leaning forward on his elbows, Dan took a breath and began.
‘Sarah, I know we’ve never met before, and you have no reason to trust me, but I was a friend of Peter’s. I don’t know what you’ve discussed with the police but I don’t believe the story they’re giving the newspapers. There’s just too much that doesn’t make sense to me and I’ve got to find out for myself what really happened.’
He stopped and looked up. Sarah continued to watch him silently for what seemed an age. When she spoke, her words were quiet and Dan had to lean forward to hear.
‘I’m so glad someone else thinks the same as me – they think I’m being paranoid but I just know something isn’t right…,’ she drifted off and gazed out the patio windows before turning to him again.