RECORD OF SIN : Extract

She had to know what had happened. Alan was killed at the quarry, and almost without conscious decision that was where she was going. The pathway left Richard's garden and almost immediately twisted out of sight. She rounded the corner and could see ahead of her the summerhouse that Richard had told her about. The path forked there, running along either side of the round wooden building. She chose the left fork and hoped it would take her to the quarry. The path was narrow and the dense greenery crowded in on it; every now and then there would be consternation as some creature got out of her way.

Frankie was a town girl. She preferred the feel of paving slabs to the soft, alien earth beneath her feet. She followed the path as it weaved its way through the trees and almost broke into a run in her desire to leave this claustrophobic world of animal noises and damp, rural smells, and its clinging, brushing, touching foliage.

A noise behind her made her stop. She listened, turning slowly, but there was nothing to see except the few yards of pathway behind her. Was that what Richard had heard that night? Some small animal darting through the grass? She walked on, more slowly, more quietly.

Again. She turned her head more quickly this time. She was alone, she told herself sternly. But she shivered, in an involuntary attempt to shake off the feeling that someone was watching her.

She walked to her right along the line of trees on rough stony earth which rose in an artificial mound levelling out at a vantage point on which sat a large, flat boulder, inviting her to sit down. She did so, and realised with a smile of satisfaction that she was looking at David's sketches; this was where he had sat, sketching the quarry as the sun went down. She rose and walked down the sloping, stony ground to the edge of the quarry.

It was barely a noise at all. Just the scuffing of a stone as it was unintentionally kicked. And it came from behind her.