Shooting in the Dark

way they looked. A woman couldn’t look at men like Harvey had looked at her, because if she did, the man would interpret the look as a come-on. Men didn’t understand about being looked at, being watched. It took a long time to get used to it. Women, most women, they learned early to take it in their stride. But even then, there would always come along some guy who could make you squirm.
    And Russell Harvey was one of them.
    Marie’s nose told her that he was honest as well, at least in relation to his involvement with Isabel Reeves. But there were no certainties in the job or in life. Sometimes the nose was a good indicator and other times it was completely wrong. The only safe way was to keep an open mind until all the leg-work was over.
     

9
     
    It was around midday that Dave Taylor and his new girlfriend, Amber Hill, strayed from the well-beaten track of the Cleveland Way a mile or two to the north of Cold Kirby on the edge of the North Yorkshire Moors. The sun was bright and apart from a few low clouds over to the west, the sky was clear.
    They’d been warned about straying from the path, and knew they were in danger of losing their way if visibility suddenly became difficult. But Dave had been getting more and more randy throughout the morning, and had joked about his erection for more than an hour and a half before Amber admitted to herself that she wanted it just as much as him.
    They climbed down a hill and crossed an ice-cold stream, picking up a sheep-run, maybe eighteen inches wide, which led into an area of thick heathers and a scattering of blueberries. Dave unzipped his sleeping bag and threw himself down on it, holding his arms out for Amber. ‘Come here,’ he said. ‘Jesus, just come here.’ Amber flashed him a smile, but some movement caught her attention further down the hill. ‘I think there’s someone over there,’ she said.
    ‘Christ.’ Dave got to his feet. ‘It’ll be a sheep. There’s no people up here. I thought we was gonna screw.’
    ‘I want to check it out, Dave. You can hang on a bit longer.’
    ‘This is torture.’ He took her by the hand and they walked towards the spot where Amber had seen movement. Within about fifty yards a large ewe leapt out of the heather and made off up the hill. ‘What did I tell you?’ Dave said. ‘There’s only sheep and rabbits up here, maybe some grouse, wild birds, whatever they call ’em.’
    ‘Still needed to check it out, though,’ Amber said. ‘I don’t want some shepherd or gamekeeper walking in on us when we’re getting at it.’
    Dave smiled. No point in upsetting her. He took her hand in both of his and brought it to his lips. ‘I know where there’s a really warm sleeping bag,’ he said. ‘And it’s in the middle of nowhere, with no people, except me and you and a hard-on that feels like it’s gonna break off.’
    ‘You shoulda been a salesman,’ she said. ‘The way you talk.’
    ‘I am a salesman, Amber,’ Dave told her. ‘What do you think I do in the sports shop all day?’
    But Amber wasn’t listening. He felt her shake and when he followed the line of her sight something began to shake inside Dave as well.
    The body was in a sitting position only a couple of metres above the path. A mound of earth supported the woman’s back. It was as if she was looking out over the moor. She was wearing a black suit and flat shoes and one of her eyes had been pecked out of its socket. The eye was still there, hanging by the remains of a vein and some threads of tissue, resting on the lower part of her cheek. Her face was criss-crossed by the dark footmarks of birds that had clung to the flesh, and her suit was speckled with the lime from their droppings.
    Her arms were stretched out and the open palms were scarred, as if someone had tried to gouge holes in them with pieces of flint. Her feet, which were crossed one over the other, were similarly scarred.
    Most of the exposed flesh was black, but at the neck of the suit and the cuffs of the jacket it was a creamy colour. There was an odour of decay and putrefaction.
    Amber retched and vomited, going down on her knees. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and returned her gaze to the body of the woman. ‘That’s horrible,’ she said. ‘Really horrible.’
    Dave wanted to tell her not to look, but he couldn’t stop looking himself. He stared abstractedly, remembering the time he’d gone with some mates to a girlie show. There was the same confusion