Secret of the Dead

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A sudden wave of panic washed over him and his chest tightened.

Slowing his pace and pausing for a moment, he checked his bearings. It was a long time since he had been in these woods and the memory of that last visit bore no resemblance whatsoever to the area he was currently scanning. In fact, nothing was familiar.

He cursed beneath his breath. He had especially chosen this morning because of the foul weather, but hadn’t anticipated it working against him. The veil of early morning fog was thicker than he had expected — he could only just make out his boots, never mind the landmarks he was seeking.

Ten minutes earlier he’d left his car parked in the lay-by, at the edge of the coppice, in almost the same spot as he had done all those years ago, and now he was attempting to re-trace the route he had taken that night. But it was proving more difficult than he’d expected. So much of the terrain had changed. The wood was much denser, and of course, it had been nightfall back then.

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