A Body in the Lakes by Graham Smith (great books of all time .TXT) 📕

When the barman called last orders, Beth saw her own surprise at how quickly the time had passed reflected on Ethan’s face. They’d only had two drinks and yet almost two hours had gone by.

Beth was glad that Ethan sipped at his pints rather than glugged them down as if it was a race to drunkenness. As a general rule she could take or leave alcohol, and she didn’t want to date someone who liked to get drunk four nights a week.

The conversation had flowed back and forth between them. They’d discussed their jobs, and although he had the good manners not to ask, which was something she appreciated, Beth had filled Ethan in on the fact his tip-off had given the police a solid lead.

‘Do you want another drink?’

‘I do, but I’m going to have to say no. I have an early start what with the investigation.’

‘I understand. I’m on shift at seven tomorrow morning myself.’

Beth returned Ethan’s rueful grin. ‘The joys of shift work. I don’t miss it one bit, but even now I’m with FMIT, I still can’t predict what time I’ll get home.’

Ethan held the door open for Beth as she exited into the street. ‘I’m free on Wednesday night if you’d like to meet up again.’

Beth leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. ‘Here at nine again works for me.’

‘Sweet.’

As Beth was climbing into a taxi, she got a text from him.

‘Goodnight, beautiful. I really enjoyed chatting with you tonight and I’m looking forward to Wednesday.’

Sixteen

The dog whistle went to Willow’s mouth for perhaps the hundredth time since her springer spaniel had run off. As a rule of thumb, Spike was a good and obedient dog, but the move back to Maryport had unsettled him.

Spike going missing was an end to her day that she could well do without. As part of her role at the bank she had to visit customers at their home or office. The first visit was with a customer called Andrew Cooper, which had been bad enough as he’d flirted with her awkwardly, despite her not giving him any kind of encouragement, but when she’d arrived to meet her next client, Oliver Morrison, the experience with Cooper had paled into insignificance by comparison.

Cooper had been polite and respectful in his awkwardness whereas Morrison had been plain lecherous. It wasn’t so much that he was undressing her with his eyes, more that he was re-dressing her in whatever outfits fuelled his fantasies. As she’d left she’d felt the need for a long shower and she was already dreading her next visit to his business.

Willow put the whistle to her lips again. Spike had lost the battle for supremacy with her mother’s black Lab and as such he was struggling to find his place in the new environment. But Willow had had to return to the family home – it had become necessary when she’d caught her husband in bed with the next-door neighbour.

If it had been their neighbour’s pretty wife she may have been able to understand, but what attraction he’d found in a balding man with a paunch was beyond her.

Willow had thought a long walk along the banks of the River Ellen would tire out Spike while simultaneously giving him a treat. He’d gone wandering off a half hour ago just as the light was beginning to fade and she had been thinking about turning for home.

She’d walked this route often enough in the days before she left home to not worry about navigating it in the dark, but until she found Spike, there was no way she was returning to her parents’ house.

As he’d run off, she was left in a quandary, should she head up or downstream looking for him, or should she remain where she was?

Perhaps he’d crossed the river and was gadding about on the far bank. Letting him off the lead the first time she’d brought him on this walk had been a mistake. He’d wandered off at once, his nose following a thousand and one smells, but he’d done his usual trick of coming back every few minutes and checking where she was.

Until he’d sauntered off and hadn’t returned.

Willow took the whistle from her mouth and tried shouting Spike’s name along with a few of the usual entreaties she used to attract him.

Still he didn’t come, so she tried again. Even as she was shouting his name she was trying to keep her irritation at him from showing in her voice. If he was lost he’d be worried, and she didn’t want him thinking he’d be in trouble.

When she stopped yelling for him she fell silent and strained her ears. She was listening for splashing as he padded in the river, or rustling as he bounded back to her through the tall grass.

A bark would have been music to her ears, but she knew Spike only barked when he heard a doorbell or a knock at the door.

Most of all, she was listening for a whimper, a sign that her beloved dog was hurt.

She heard nothing.

Willow forced her way through a clump of nettles that bordered the river and gritted her teeth against the expected pain. She looked left and right as her eyes sought out Spike’s white coat in the fading light.

Not finding him up or downstream she turned her eyes to the far bank and scanned as far as she could see. Twice her eyes picked out white shapes, but when she focussed on them she identified them as clumps of wool snagged from a sheep’s back.

The sky had turned a dark purple as the sun sank below the horizon and shadows cast by the trees and bushes lined both banks. Willow couldn’t help but feel that this place she had known all her life had taken on a spooky, malevolent presence. Instead of warm and fuzzy memories, all she was getting was menace and the stuff of nightmares.

By the time the