The Calling Of The Grave

'Eight years.' Cath Bennett reached for a framed photograph on the mantelpiece. 'I still can't get used to how long it's been. They'd have been twenty-seven this year. In May.'

She handed me the photograph. I took it reluctantly, feeling as though I were accepting a pact. It wasn't the same picture that had been used in the newspapers, which I'd seen again on the internet only days before, but it looked to have been taken around the same time. Not long before the two seventeen-year-olds had been abducted and murdered by Jerome Monk, less than three days apart. Both sisters were in it, side by side, each an almost perfect reflection of the other. But there was still a subtle difference between them. Although both were laughing, one of them was grinning brazenly at the camera, shoulders thrown back as she stared at the camera with a look of challenge. By contrast her twin seemed more subdued, head a little downcast, with a self-conscious look about her.

'They had their dad's colouring,' her mother went on. 'Zoe took after Alan in most ways. Always an extrovert, even when she was a little girl. She kept us busy, I can tell you. Lindsey was the quiet one. They might have looked the same, but they were like chalk and cheese in every other way. If they'd-'

She stopped herself. Her smile was tremulous.

'Well. No good playing "what if ". You've met him, haven't you? Jerome Monk.'

The question was aimed at me. 'Yes.'

'I wish I'd had the chance. I always regretted not going to the trial. I'd like to have stood in front of him and stared him in the eye. Not that it'd have done much good, by all accounts. And now he's escaped.'

'I'm sure they'll catch him soon,' Sophie said.

'I hope they kill him. I know you're supposed to forgive and move on, but I can't. After what he did, someone as evil as that, I just hope he suffers. Do you have any children, Dr Hunter?'

The question caught me by surprise. I felt the weight of the photograph in my hand.

'No.'

'Then you can't know what it's like. Jerome Monk, he didn't just murder our daughters, he killed our future. Seeing Zoe and Lindsey married, grandchildren, it's all gone. And we don't even have a grave we can take flowers to. At least Tina Williams' parents have that.'

'I'm sorry,' I said, although I didn't know what I was apologizing for.

'Don't be. I know you did your best to find them eight years ago. And I appreciate whatever you can do now. We both do. Alan… well, he doesn't like to talk about it much. That's why I told Sophie to call during the day, while he's at work. Nothing can bring our girls back, but it'd be a comfort to both of us to know they're somewhere safe.'

I set the framed picture down on the coffee table. But I could still feel the dead girls' eyes on me, staring from every photograph in that sad and spotless room.

There was an icy gulf between Sophie and me as we drove back to Dartmoor. I felt furious with her, with Monk, with myself. And behind the anger was the rawness opened by Cath Bennett's unwitting words.

Do you have any children? Then you can't know what it's like.

The streets and houses gave way to country roads before Sophie broke the silence.

'I'm sorry. It was a bad idea, OK?' she blurted. 'I got in touch with her a few months ago, and… well, I thought if you met her…'

But I was in no mood to let her off that easily 'What? That I wouldn't be able to say no?'

'I didn't commit you to anything, I only said you might be able to help. She must have just assumed-'

'What did you expect? Her daughters were murdered! There isn't going to be a day goes by when she doesn't wonder if she'll hear they've been found. Raising her hopes like that's just cruel.'

'I was only trying to do the right thing!' she flashed. 'I'm sorry, all right?'

I bit back my response. The car fishtailed slightly on a muddy stretch of road as I took a bend too fast.

'Careful,' Sophie said.

I eased my foot off the pedal, letting the speed bleed off. Some of my anger went with it. Of all people, I should have known better than to lose control when I was driving.

'I shouldn't have shouted,' I said.

'It's my fault.' Sophie stared out of the window, rubbing her temple. 'You're right, I shouldn't have done it. I thought… Well, it doesn't matter.'

'Is your head hurting?'

'No.' She dropped her hand. We were approaching a turn-off for Padbury. 'Go straight on here,' she said, as I indicated to take it.

'Aren't we going back to your house?'

'Not yet. There's one more place I'd like to go first. Don't worry, it doesn't involve meeting anyone else,' she added when I gave her a look.

I'd assumed Sophie's attempt to persuade me had ended with the visit to meet Cath Bennett. It was only when we passed the overgrown earthworks that once housed the old tin mine's waterwheel that I realized where we were heading.

Black Tor.

Where Tina Williams had been buried.

I took the turning without having to ask. It was like driving back in time. I passed the point where the policewoman had stopped me eight years ago and parked at the end of the dirt track that cut across the moor to the tor. The last time I'd been here this whole area had bustled with trailers, vans and cars. Now, except for a few distant sheep, the moor was empty.

I switched off the engine. 'Now what?'

Sophie gave a weak smile. 'I thought we'd take a walk.'

I sighed. 'Sophie…'

'I just want to go and see where the grave was. That's all. No more surprises, I promise.'

Resigned, I got out of the car. A cold breeze plucked at my hair. The air was fresh, underlaid with a faintly sulphurous whiff of bog. I felt the past overlay the present as I looked out at a landscape I'd last set eyes on nearly a decade before. The moor stretched for miles, a wintry patchwork of gorse, heather and dead bracken. There was no corridor of police tape, no distant blue forensic tent. But for all that it was hauntingly familiar. Here was the same pattern of rocky tors, the same undulating hummocks and troughs. The years still seemed to fall away, leaving me feeling hollow at how long had passed since the last time I'd stood here.

And how much had changed.

Beside me, Sophie stood with her hands jammed in her coat pockets, eyes scanning the moor. If she felt at all daunted by it, she gave no sign.

'It's a long walk. Are you sure you're up to it?' I asked. Coming here had snuffed my earlier anger. As perhaps she'd hoped it would.

'I'm fine.' She looked up at the grey sky. 'We'd better hurry. It'll be dark soon.'

She was right: the afternoon was already shading into a dusky twilight. A thin mist was starting to form, rising from the ground like steam from a horse's back. Before I locked the car I took the torch from the glove compartment. We should be back long before dark, but I'd been lost on a moor at night once before. It wasn't an experience I wanted to repeat.

We set off along the track that led to Black Tor. About halfway along it she stopped, turning to face the moor off to our left.

'OK, this is where the police tape was strung out to the grave.'

'How can you tell?' As far as I could see, nothing about where we stood looked very different from anywhere else.

Sophie gave me a sideways glance, mouth quirking in a smile. 'What's wrong? Don't you trust me?'

'I just don't see how you can remember. It all looks the same to me.'

She leaned nearer to me, her hand resting lightly on my arm as she pointed. 'The trick is to memorize landmarks that aren't going to change. See that other tor about two miles away? That should be at right angles to where we are now. And then if you look over there.. .'

She turned, standing close against me so I turned with her. 'There's a sort of cleft in the ground. If we're at the right place the end of it should line up with that hummock with the flat rock on top. See?'