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1

The Hare and Hound is warm and cosy. The fire roars in the hearth and the old-timers take up their regular spots around it. In flat caps and weather-beaten coats, they play cards and talk farming, football and the old days.

Twitches of smiles and crinkles of laughter lines appear whenever pregnant Catherine Aster makes her rounds, collecting empty glasses and asking if they need anything else.

At the bar, the impromptu committee meeting has gained two more members. Eugenie Spires often drops into The Hare and Hound after closing the library and Sergeant Aaron Mayfield is off duty and nursing a pint of beer.

While Eugenie bends Vicar Roberts and Neville Hewlett’s ears about who has late fines in the library and who may very well be using it to conduct their extra-marital affair in, Sergeant Mayfield is deep in conversation with Mayor Margaret Sumner.

‘How’s our new one getting on?’

Margaret steals a sly glance over her trim shoulders. Catherine is lowering a tray of drinks onto a table for a trio of women of similar age. Mothers of school-age children enjoying a bit of ‘me-time’ and a gossip, vaguely dressed up in jeans, boots and sparkly tops. Catherine chats to them with an easy confidence.

Margaret turns back to Aaron, speaking softly over the rim of her wine glass. ‘Well, I like her, though I get the feeling she’s not the brightest… But she is lovely and well-meaning. I think she’ll be okay. But time will tell of course. And we have plenty of that.’

‘Hmm.’ Mayfield’s expression is hard to read. He is still brooding over the book he had retrieved from the Finnis boy’s treehouse but he has not shared it with anyone yet. ‘What about the daughter? It’s all right if she’s linked up with the Maxwell boy but I’ve never been keen on the Harrison girl and as for Jesse bloody Archer…’

Margaret gives him an amused and pitying look. ‘Yes, we know Aaron. Change the record please. I hear she’s settled in very well at school. Edward told me earlier that most of her teachers plan to elevate her to the top sets already.’

‘Wow.’ Mayfield looks genuinely impressed. ‘We don’t get a lot of smart ones.’

‘No,’ Margaret agrees, shifting slightly closer. ‘And that has always worked in our favour.’

2

Jesse feels the weight of Black Hare Valley at his heels as he climbs the hill and plods wearily through the crumbled graveyard. Behind him, he feels the bright eyes of the town eagerly watching him, expecting him to fail, to fall. It’s all fake smiles and knives in backs down there. It’s false glitter and fake laughter and he can’t bear any of it.

Up here, it feels different – brutal and honest. Black Woods are dense, hungry and watchful. Douglas Firs and Scots Pines combine to create a black void through which the occasional silver birch stands out like an empty bone. It’s cheerless but truthful. The undergrowth catches at his ankles and the rubble tries to trip him. While the sun eases down on the chattering town, oozing reds and golds across the streets and into windows, up here the sky is black, colourless. Black Wood stands out like an old photograph – like a silhouette, or a memory frozen in time.

There’s no pretence here, he thinks as he climbs, it is what it is and does not hide itself or disguise its intentions. This place has its own rules. The air is colder, thinner; his breath comes in short, nervous bursts. It’s harsh here, like the world has ceased to exist beyond this place, like they’ve all been cut off and set adrift in a frozen and outcasted fragment of time.

Jesse glances at the others and takes a bottle of whisky from his back pocket before walking up to the circle of mushrooms. He grins recklessly as he marches through the middle of it, before spinning to face the rest of the group.

‘What did you do that for?’ Ralph Maxwell is staring at him, his mouth hanging open. Jesse laughs. He doesn’t really know the kid but didn’t have him pegged for a superstitious type.

‘You don’t believe in all that old crap, do you?’ he barks, unscrewing the cap from the stolen whisky as he joins them on the crumbled graves.

‘It doesn’t seem wise to tempt fate,’ shrugs Ralph nervously. He turns to Jaime with his palms turned up. ‘You’re not supposed to break fairy rings.’

‘Or what?’ she asks, looking from him to Jesse.

Jesse snorts. ‘Or you’ll anger the fairies and they’ll put a curse on you.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘God, my mum used to spout all kinds of shit about fairy rings and curses.’ He looks away, lifting the bottle again before murmuring, ‘fucking crazy, she was…’

‘And what the hell is that?’ Willow Harrison is staring at him like he is some kind of freak, when she’s the one practically dressed like a witch. She points at the whisky.

He holds it up with a laugh. ‘It gets cold up here. And spooky.’

‘Can I try some?’ Ralph leans forward.

‘Ralph, you’re thirteen. Your mum will kill you,’ says Willow, her eyes still on Jesse.

Jesse unscrews the cap, drinks a quick mouthful, winces dramatically and passes the bottle to Ralph. ‘You only live once,’ he says to no one.

‘Are you trying to get back on Mayfield’s radar, is that it?’ wonders Jaime, frowning in that expectant and curious way she has. She reminds him of a chubby little owl, her curious mind ticking over behind that sweet and innocent face. She has unrolled a series of taped together sheets on the grass and is sat there looking smart and sharp with a pen in her hand.

Jesse stifles another laugh and pulls out the camera Mayfield gave him earlier to a collective gasp from the others.

‘Is that another one?’ asks Ralph in awe.

‘Yeah. I already got my new mission. Bastard was waiting for me after school.’

Willow looks horrified, her eyes dark and fearful as she tries to accept this new reality – her best friend is missing and the local policeman is a blackmailer.

‘Who is it for?’ she wants to know.

He sighs as he turns it over in his hands. ‘Old Mrs Cotton, you know her?’

‘Everyone knows her,’ replies Willow. ‘She’s like the oldest person in town.’ She looks at Jaime to explain. ‘Iris Cotton lives on the outskirts of town. Right on the border in Black Hare Cottage. The place is a relic, like something out of a museum and she’s no different.’

‘Interesting,’ nods Jaime, taking down notes.

‘She has a grand-daughter,’ Willow goes on. ‘But she lives in town with her son, Nathan, He works in the chemist.’

‘He’s always at the community centre too,’ adds Ralph. ‘I see him when I go to holiday club sometimes. I think he likes helping Mr Hewlett.’

‘Yeah, he does.’ Jesse is smiling. ‘Anyway, I gotta break into there somehow. Told him it’ll take a few days.’

‘And what if you say no?’ Willow leans forward, her brow knitted together. ‘Is it the school thing? Can he hold that over you forever? How did this even start between you two?’

Jesse shrugs and takes back the bottle. Ralph has only sniffed it before recoiling in disgust and changing his mind.

‘Long story. But yeah, that’s the gist. He catches me doing something stupid and I have to do a little job for him to keep quiet.’

‘Jesus,’ murmurs Ralph. ‘What a sicko…’

‘You mentioned it might go back to when your dad was younger?’ says Jaime. ‘Have you ever asked him?’

Jesse shakes his head and smiles briefly at the suggestion. ‘Can’t really talk to my dad, if you know what I mean.’ She nods but Jesse knows she doesn’t understand. ‘He arrests my dad too,’ Jesse goes on, taking another gulp. ‘I mean, fair enough. He is a criminal, no doubt. But he’s got this threat, see, if my dad is gone from home for too long, I’ll have to go into foster care and you know who are all registered as foster carers in this shithole town?’

The baffled expressions on their faces suggest that they have no clue. Jesse laughs at their innocence and feels genuinely jealous that they’ve been sheltered for so long.

‘The Mayor, Vicar Roberts, Mr Bishop, Mr Hewlett,’ he says then pauses before delivering the most brutal blow of all. ‘And Sergeant Mayfield.’ He lifts the bottle to his lips and downs another burning mouthful.

‘Jesus Christ!’ Jaime is staring at him. ‘Are you telling us that creepy bastard could end up fostering you? That’s insane!’

Jesse lowers the bottle. ‘So, I got to do what he says, all the fucking time. Which is why his camera is now in the Finnis family home just like he wanted and why in the next few days I’ve got to find a way to get this one into the Cotton place.’

Jaime is adding notes frantically to the paper. ‘I’ve added the Finnis camera to the timeline,’ she explains, her cheeks flushed. ‘Willow filled us in on what you saw on the computer at the shop, so we’re aware that Mayfield must have persuaded or blackmailed those boys to get the camera back from him. Does that strike anyone as weird?’ She looks around at each of them. ‘I mean, why wouldn’t he just get it himself? He was in the bookshop when we were.’

There’s a silence as each of them consider it. Jesse is the first to give a shrug, dismissing it. It’s not that unexpected in his opinion. It makes sense that the old bastard would be blackmailing idiots like Steven and Dominic too.

‘It’s the way he works,’ he tells Jaime but she looks unsure.

‘And Mayfield doesn’t know that I saw him give Jesse something in the police car?’

Jesse shakes his head. ‘You didn’t mention it in the treehouse. You must have decided to wait until the photos came out before you asked about it.’

Jaime nods in relief and adds the latest camera request to the timeline. Jesse can see an arrow pointing to two words in thick capital letters: PADDY’S BOOK. Yes, he wants to know what the hell that was as well, but there’s no way he can ask Steven and Dominic.

But Willow isn’t ready yet. ‘How many years are we talking, Jesse?’

‘Think I was eleven.’

‘Holy shit.’ Ralph looks up at the darkening sky, shaking his head.

‘Bastard,’ agrees Jaime, writing it down.

‘But why?’ demands Willow. ‘Why is he spying on people in town?’

‘I don’t know for sure,’ Jesse tells them. ‘My best bet? Blackmail.’

She nods, her eyes fierce. ‘Do you think anyone else is involved?’

‘Don’t know. The whole committee are a bunch of creeps, so who knows? Maybe.’

Jaime’s head snaps up. ‘My mum just joined that committee.’

Jesse offers a bitter smile before raising the bottle to his lips again. ‘I’m sure she’s very nice.’

Willow clears her throat. ‘He’s obviously blackmailing people like he is you, Jesse. People always say he became a policeman because his dad was one, but maybe it’s not just that… Anyway, are we going to assume that he was maybe blackmailing Paddy and has something to do with him being missing?’

There is a heavy silence while the four of them mull it over. It’s Jaime who speaks first, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears.

‘Are you sure Paddy wasn’t acting any differently before he vanished? Scared maybe, or secretive?’

Willow shakes her head instantly, frowning. ‘No. I’ve thought about it and thought about it and if anything, he seemed happier than normal…’

Jesse turns to look at her. ‘Did he?’

She meets his eye but does not answer.

‘This brings us back to the book,’ says Jaime and all eyes fall back on her. ‘You guys saw on the video that after we all left the treehouse, Paddy took out a book none of you knew he had. He looked at it and then hid it again before he left the treehouse.’ Jaime runs the nib of her pen along all the points she has raised. ‘Did you get a look at the book? The size, the colour, anything at all?’

‘Not really,’ says Willow. ‘His back was to the camera and it was only the way his arms were moving that made us think it was a book.’

‘Definitely a book,’ Jesse says firmly. ‘The way his head was turning slightly too, like he was skimming the pages. It was big. Definitely big. Taking up all his lap. Heavy.’

Jaime writes it all down. ‘And now the book is missing too, so unless Paddy took it with him, Sergeant Mayfield must have it. Assuming those boys took it when they took the camera, right?’

3

Ralph feels the urge to hug himself. It’s cold up here on the maze and darker than it should be with the towering trees of Black Wood right behind them. He could do with a decent hug – warm arms wrapped right around him, squeezing him together, but he resists the urge. He doesn’t want to look like an idiot in front of his new friends.

Friends? He looks at them, wondering. Jesse is still gulping the neat whisky which can’t be a good thing and in truth, makes Ralph feel quite nervous. He still can’t quite let go of the Jesse Archer he has experienced over the years, and he can tell Willow is having the same problem. Every now and then she seems to remember and her voice becomes harder and sharper, reminding Jesse that they are not his friends. This makes Ralph feel sorry for Jesse, and he considers moving to sit on his other side so that he doesn’t look quite so alone.

Ralph glances over his shoulder. He still wants to take them through the woods and show them where he found the footprint but he’s hesitant now. Maybe one mystery is enough to deal with.

‘We need to get that book back.’ Willow is staring right at Jesse when she says it. ‘Can you get your friends to confirm they took it? That would answer one question.’

Jesse makes a face at the suggestion. ‘I’d rather not. And they’re not my friends. Not anymore.’

Willow swaps a look with Ralph and he shrugs back. ‘Okay,’ she goes on. ‘Let’s assume for the moment that they did take it and they gave it to Mayfield along with the camera. That for some reason, he used them to retrieve both things for him. Where might Mayfield have hidden it? Any idea?’

Jesse chews the inside of his mouth. His expression suggests that he knows where this conversation is heading. ‘I dunno.’

‘His house?’ Willow barks a little too loudly, making them all jump.

Jaime is still making notes. ‘The police station?’

‘Both possibilities,’ agrees Ralph. ‘But how the hell would we get it back from either of those places? Won’t he have his own cameras everywhere?’

Jesse nods silently. Willow inches forward. ‘We need a plan. Let’s tackle the station first. Jesse, you know your way around it.’

He gives a slight nod and looks away.

‘He can’t break into a police station,’ says Jaime, looking up from her notes. ‘There’s just no way.’

‘I could take his camera back to him.’ Jesse is frowning now while his gaze is fixed on the bottle in his hands. ‘At the station. I’ll break it or something and if he swaps it there we’ll know he keeps stuff he shouldn’t there. If he heads for home to swap it… well, that would tell us something.’

‘Good idea.’ Willow nods enthusiastically. ‘You’re right. That will give us more information then we can come up with a second plan.’

‘Have you ever been to his house before, Jesse?’ asks Ralph.

Jesse rolls one shoulder in discomfort. ‘Nah, but it’s attached to the station, right? It’s really small. Wouldn’t take long to search.’

‘But we’d have to distract Mayfield somewhere else,’ says Willow, her face crumpled with concentration. ‘And we’d have to somehow disable any cameras…’

‘What about a power cut!’ Ralph shouts suddenly, making them all jump again. He’s so pleased with the idea that has jumped into his head, he’s unable to keep quiet or still. They’re all staring at him and Willow’s mouth slowly drops open as she runs it over in her mind. ‘If we could somehow cause the whole town to have a power cut then we could sneak into his home and no cameras would see us!’

‘Don’t the cameras run on batteries?’ asks Jaime, her nose wrinkled up in thought.

Ralph’s face falls in dismay. ‘Oh. Yeah.’

Jesse hunches forward. ‘No, you’re on the right track, Ralph. The ones he leaves in people’s houses are charged up beforehand but they can’t send that feed anywhere if the whole system is down. See?’

‘So, it could work?’ Willow looks between Ralph and Jesse.

But Jaime is shaking her head. ‘No, because if he has cameras in his house and they’re charged up, he can just attach them to something later and he’ll see what you did.’

Jesse licks his lips. There is something hard and reckless flaring behind his eyes and Ralph wonders if he even cares about getting caught.

‘I’ll know where to look and I’ll take them down. I’ll damage them or something, but guys, I really don’t think he’ll have cameras in his own house. It’s the other cameras we need to worry about, and like I said, they can’t send their information anywhere if the power is out.’

‘But won’t he collect them back later?’ asks Jaime, chewing a nail. ‘If we do this, we’ve really got to be sure there’s no way he gets proof we did it.’

‘I’ll be in his house,’ Jesse says firmly. ‘I’ll get a chance to figure out how he does it. The bigger question is, how are we gonna cause a power cut?’

‘They happen every now and then,’ says Willow, ‘and it’s usually because a tree has fallen on a power line.’

Jesse is nodding. He’s hunched up right over his knees and he’s chewing restlessly on his knuckles while the whisky bottle swings beneath, but he’s nodding. He wants to do this.

‘So, how about we cut a tree down then?’ frowns Jaime. ‘Anyone got any power tools?’

‘My mum has a chainsaw!’ yells Ralph. ‘She uses it to chop wood for people. It’s one of her side-hustles.’ He grins a little sheepishly. ‘She’s working to get us into a little town cottage.’

‘Okay then, it’s possible.’ Willow clasps her knees and stares ahead. ‘It’s doable.’

Jaime exhales, shaking her head. ‘There are a lot of risks,’ she tells them. She glances at Ralph and grimaces. He smiles weakly because he understands how she feels. It’s a workable plan with plenty of holes in it. Ralph shudders when he thinks about them getting caught…

‘When do we start?’ Willow asks but it is Jesse she is looking at.

‘Tomorrow,’ he says without hesitation. ‘First thing.’ He takes out the camera, drops it on the ground and stomps on it. ‘Whoops. Clumsy me!’

Willow breathes out shakily. ‘Okay. Meet us at school after you’ve seen him. Bike shed again?’

He blinks at her. ‘It’s Saturday tomorrow.’

‘Oh shit, yeah. Back of mine then? The alley behind my garden?’

‘Okay. But listen, you know people are gonna start talking. Mayfield already has a bee in his bonnet about me hanging around you guys.’

‘But he can’t stop us being friends,’ Ralph protests. He almost follow this up with, we are friends, aren’t we? But he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to look as desperate as he feels.

‘It’ll make him suspicious,’ Willow agrees. ‘And we don’t need him watching us constantly.’

‘But he was already watching Paddy,’ Jaime points out.

Jesse shakes his head slowly at her. ‘You don’t want his attention on you, Jaime. Take my word for it. You want him to think you’re all good kids. You don’t ever want to be on his radar, believe me.’ Jesse gets up quickly then, perhaps taking his own advice. He stumbles slightly on broken rubble but corrects himself before he falls, and starts to wobble away from them. ‘He’s not a man, you know,’ he pauses to say over one shoulder. He shakes his head solemnly. ‘He’s not a man. He’s a monster.’

4

They sit in silence, watching Jesse go. He doesn’t head back to town, but staggers instead in a casual manner towards the Quigley Farm.

‘Maybe one of us should go with him,’ says Jaime softly, but she doesn’t move.

Willow gets up and brushes off the back of her cloak. ‘He’ll be okay. He always is.’

Ralph looks at her in alarm. ‘Are you going home too?’

‘We have a plan, don’t we?’ Willow pulls up her hood and moves away. ‘I’m going home to check the whole place for hidden cameras now that we know what to look for. I suggest you two do the same.’

‘No, wait!’ Jaime stands up quickly. ‘If we find any and take them down, he’ll know we’re on to him and he’ll know Jesse told us!’

Willow rolls her eyes but nods reluctantly. ‘Okay, I’ll be discreet, I promise. If I find any I won’t react. You guys coming?’

Jaime nods and starts packing up her bag. Ralph touches her arm. ‘We haven’t checked in the woods yet. You know, for more footprints. If we find any, you could take pictures of them.’

Jaime shoulders her bag with a nod. ‘Okay then, let’s do it.’

They look up to say goodbye to Willow but she has already gone. They can see her dark form scurrying down the hill between the broken gravestones.

Jaime faces Ralph with a bright smile. He smiles back, then they link arms and walk into the woods together. Jaime gasps slightly as the darkness envelopes them. Her temperature drops and her pupils dilate. She feels afraid but also strangely alive. Her senses are in overdrive.

‘It’s so dark in here,’ she whispers as Ralph leads the way.

‘That’s why they call it Black Woods,’ replies Ralph, keeping close to her side. ‘It’s mostly pines and firs and they’ve grown so tall and so close together that not much light can get through. Nothing else can grow here.’

Jaime nods. A carpet of old leaves and thick spongy moss cushions their footfalls. ‘How could you see any footprints in here, Ralph?’

‘There’s a clearing just up ahead. It’s shallow – bit muddy. I think a few trees fell a few years back and made the clearing. There are a lot of rotten trunks and logs and that’s where I found the print.’

They walk on, arms still tightly linked and pressed together. Jaime can hear both the fear and the excitement in Ralph’s voice and she finds it hard to believe that she has only known him a few days.

‘So, you do this a lot?’

He smiles shyly. ‘Yeah, kind of. I like wandering around, exploring stuff. Mum always said I never could sit still for long.’

‘I think we make a good team,’ says Jaime. ‘All of us, I mean. Do you think so too, Ralph? I mean, I know Willow still has a few issues with Jesse…’

‘A lot of people have issues with Jesse,’ nods Ralph with a sigh. ‘But I know what you mean and I think so too. We do make a good team.’

‘It feels right,’ Jaime feels the need to press, feeling her way with the thought in her head, trying out the words as they come to her. ‘When we’re all together, I mean. It sort of… flows? Does that make sense?’ She gives a self-deprecating laugh but Ralph is nodding back.

‘It does make sense, it does! I know exactly what you mean. I felt it too.’

They grin at each other and walk on. Above them the tall trees and thick boughs block out almost all of the light and it feels like night has fallen early. A snapping branch makes them both jump and whirl around in fear. They immediately laugh nervously at their own jumpiness.

‘Shit,’ breathes Ralph. ‘Probably just a deer.’

‘Yeah, probably. How much further?’

Ralph points ahead. ‘You see the clearing?’

Up ahead, the trees thin out just enough to reveal a small muddy clearing. It’s almost a perfect circle with a ring of fallen trees and half-rotten trunks lying like tombstones around the edge. The recent storm has created a few puddles with dead leaves floating on the murky surfaces.

Ralph keeps his arm through hers as they move cautiously through the trees and Jaime is grateful. Ralph has a kind and sensitive energy and she feels safe in his company. He looks strong too, square shoulders and thick legs – she can tell he spends a lot of his time outdoors.

‘How are you gonna borrow a chainsaw without your mum knowing?’ she asks him.

‘Oh, she’ll be cool about it, She taught me how to use it safely. I’ll just say I’ve found a tree down and I’ll fetch her the wood. She’ll find someone to sell it to.’

‘Oh okay. Cool!’

‘Yeah, or sometimes we have bonfires at the caravan park. Everyone comes out of their vans to gather around a fire.’

‘That sounds like a lot of fun.’

‘It is. Oh, here. Look.’ Ralph points to the place where he found the footprint and cast his mould. ‘Someone took my mould but you can still kind of see the shape and size, right?’

Jaime winds her camera on and crouches, peering intently at the soil. She can definitely see the vague shape of a paw although the rain and wind has moved the earth and eroded the definition. She touches it gently, trying to imagine a dog’s paw, with five pads, one large, four small under the toes.

‘Canine, I reckon.’ She snaps a photo. ‘It’s huge. It’s a shame half of it is so smudged and unclear. Did you find any more?’

He shakes his head sadly. ‘Nope, just this one here. But it’s not the first time I’ve found weird prints or claw marks!’

Jaime lowers the camera. ‘Claw marks?’

‘Yeah, on trees but really high up.’

Jaime takes a few more pictures then straightens up. ‘This town just gets weirder and weirder.’

Ralph faces her with a big bright smile. ‘You still like it though, right?’

She looks around at the towering trees and the impenetrable darkness between them. Another branch snaps close by and they link arms again. Staring at the trees, her eyes start to play tricks on her. She swears she can see faces in the thickened skin of the ancient trees. She swears she can hear them breathing.

‘I’m not so sure,’ she mumbles, tightening her grip on Ralph’s arm. ‘Let’s go.’

5

Back in town, the sunset has illuminated every shop window and as Willow feels the streets below her feet again, she breathes out a steady stream of relief. People are milling around, heading home, closing up shops and calling children in for their dinner. She stops outside Black Hare Gifts and Curios and looks back at the hills. She can see the gentle sweeps of green, the slopes of the old maze and looming over everything, the dark stalks of watchful Black Hare Wood. She shivers and hopes the others have gone home too.

‘Just in time!’ her mother calls out from behind the till as Willow slips inside the shop. ‘Put the closed sign up, please!’

A song she knows her mother likes is playing cheerfully on the radio behind the counter, and Willow hears her humming along to Breakfast At Tiffany’s by Deep Blue Something as she locks the door and flips the open sign over to closed. She stands for a minute, her gaze sweeping up and down the narrow aisles of the gift shop. It’s tiny, made tinier by colourful bookshelves of tourist-bait and several small tables of themed displays. Her mum appears, still humming, black hair swept into a side ponytail, and the spiderweb tattoo on her neck visible.

‘You okay, baby?’

‘Yep, fine.’ But Willow is not fine. As she heads for the door at the back her eyes scan everything, trailing up and down shelves and fixtures, searching for a blinking, spying eye.

‘Dad’s cooking vegetarian meatballs and spaghetti.’

‘Cool.’ Willow pauses in the doorway. ‘Mum. Any news on Paddy?’

Her mum drifts over to her, biting her lower lip and tilting her head in pity. She puts her hand on Willow’s shoulder and squeezes gently.

‘No sweetie, I’m sorry. I’m not sure what they’ll do next. The mayor was saying they ought to use the community hall for a meeting and the vicar wants to hold a vigil at the church.’

Willow pulls away in disgust. ‘Like any of that will do anything! What about more police, Mum? Aren’t they going to call in some proper detectives?’

‘I expect so.’ But her mum looks uncertain. ‘Darling, are you absolutely sure he didn’t say anything? It does look most likely that he ran away and probably planned it too. There would have been signs of a struggle if it had been anything else.’

She shakes her head, eyes down. ‘No. He wouldn’t!’

‘I find it hard to believe too. He had a lovely life. He was a happy boy.’

‘Maybe he sleepwalked and got lost. The land goes on forever outside of town. How far did they search?’

‘A long time, I guess. They’ll keep searching too, in every direction, I promise.’

But Willow doesn’t believe it. She’s not sure exactly what she can believe in anymore. It occurs to her then to tell her mother about Mayfield blackmailing Jesse Archer but she remembers the cameras and stops herself.

‘I’ll go on up,’ she tells her mum and turns away. ‘I’m tired.’

‘All right, sweetheart. I love you, you know.’

‘I know. Love you too.’

As she walks away she hears her mother start humming again and this time she does not miss the sadness in it.

6

When Jesse drinks he understands why his father does. He doesn’t often get the chance but earlier he took advantage of his drunken father falling into the flat with a half-consumed bottle of whisky in his hands. It had been too great a temptation to ignore.

Recklessness, a friend. Not giving a shit and laughing about it, a rare luxury. It will all end soon enough, one way or another, so Jesse makes the most of it while he can. As he wanders aimlessly around the edge of the Quigley Farm, he feels a blossoming sorrow that the others didn’t join him for a drink. It would have been more fun, he thinks now, to have enjoyed the stolen drink together as a group.

They are a group, he supposes, in a fashion. A fragile one. A splintered one. The centre is missing. Paddy Finnis is missing. His foot strikes a fallen log and he’s sent sprawling. Dewy grass soaks his clothes and he rolls on his back and laughs at the sky. Where are you, Paddy Finnis? Where are you? Just as I was getting to know you, you had to go and disappear on me…

The sky is darker here; the clouds sombre grey, navy blue, mottled bruises sailing swiftly along. It’s a small world, he thinks as tears sting his eyes, a very small world.

And he has a job to do. It’s important, he remembers.

Jesse sits up, muttering and scolding himself. He drinks another mouthful of the vile drink and pushes himself back up to his feet. He’ll go home. Sleep it off. And in the morning, with a clear head, he will go willingly to the lion’s den. He has to. For Paddy.

Jesse stumbles down from the hills and staggers along, one foot in front of the other until he discovers tarmac again under his boots. He pauses and leans over to inspect it. For a moment, he has no idea where he is and as he closes his eyes and feels the air cooling his skin he thinks how wonderful it would be to wake up somewhere else.

Then, he opens his eyes and sees the back of the police station. The tiny fire station to one side, Mayfield’s compact stone house to the other. They make a square grey unit of ancient bricks and grey tiles. Jesse feels an ugly rage wash over him when he thinks about Paddy – gone, lost – it isn’t right, it isn’t fair, and he just knows, he feels it like a dirty cancer clawing through his very bones, that Mayfield is involved.

Without thinking, Jesse launches the empty whisky bottle at the policeman’s house and listens in exhilaration, pride and fear as the glass smashes against the brickwork and tinkling sounds ran down on the path below.

Jesse hears something behind him. A snap, a crack, a movement in the grass. He gasps and whirls around but all he can see is darkness. The light has faded fast up on the hills. The mottled clouds have merged into almost solid blackness. He freezes. His hairs stand on end and his scalp crawls. He steps back. There is a noise. A low, rumbling noise. His rational mind says car, lorry, motorbike, thunder, while his accelerated heartbeat and goose-pimpled flesh say something else.

Run.

Jesse steps back again, staggers, almost falls. There is another noise – footfalls, fast, heavy. Coming his way. His back meets the wall behind and he fumbles his way around the stark, soulless house until he is out on Station Road. He stops under a streetlight and breathes. His heart is a panicked wild beast in his chest thrumming to get out.

How did it get so dark so quick?

Even the town appears drenched in a dark cloud. Jesse twitches – he’s sure he can hear something else breathing…. His own breath stops – his heart a block of ice. Somehow, his feet edge forward onto the road. He flees. Runs at speed down the road to the junction with Black Hare Road. In the brief moment that Jesse slows to catch his breath, he hears the rumbling noise again and he pictures sharp teeth and gnashing jaws. He emits a gasp of a scream and runs full pelt up Black Hare Road.

He doesn’t stop, turning left onto Fort Lane, which is even darker, almost tunnel-like as he races past dimly lit cottages and hares out onto High Street. He couldn’t stop now if he tried. He is in full flight mode, feels like prey. He won’t stop running until he is able to go to ground. From High Street, Jesse belts down Taylor Close then forks off onto Taylor Drive. His block of flats looms behind low cloud. A cold mist is snapping at his ankles as he hurls himself towards the doors, but he can still hear those footfalls, still hear it breathing and licking its lips.

Jesse slams into the doors and flings them wide. Breathless with fear, in a frenzy of blind panic, Jesse tears up the stairs and races down the corridor to home. The door is already opens and he falls inside; blessed home, he made it, it’s gone, he outran it. Then his father is there, looming over him swaying drunkenly and smoking a cigarette. He hauls Jesse to his feet and begins to drag him through the flat.

‘Steal from me!’ he is yelling as he marches. ‘Fucking steal from me!’

Jesse falls, his knees hitting the floor, but he is dragged along, his head and limbs crashing into furniture and walls. His father slides open the balcony door and deposits him with a kick onto the balcony, where bags of rubbish fester and broken glass litters the floor.

‘Thieving little bastard!’

His father slams the door and turns the key. Jesse leans back on the grimy glass and drops his head into his hands. He thinks of Paddy and weeps.

7

Jesse doesn’t expect to sleep but somehow he does, and he’s woken the next morning when Billy slides the door open and he topples into the kitchen.

‘Sorry, mate!’

Jesse uses the wall to push himself up. He looks at his palm and picks a shard of glass out of it. Wyatt is stirring something in a huge pot on the oven.

‘Hare and vegetable soup,’ he announces. ‘Hang around. It’ll be ready soon.’

‘No, I’ve got somewhere to be.’ Jesse runs a hand through his hair and looks around the flat. ‘Dad out?’

‘Asleep,’ says Billy. ‘Here.’ He digs into his pocket and passes Jesse a five pound note. ‘Get something to eat.’

Jesse nods in thanks and heads to their bedroom. His brothers are terrible most of the time but they’ve done more to raise him than his father and for that he is grateful. Jesse finds some relatively clean clothes and changes into them. His head is thumping from the whisky and his nerves remain shredded from the running. He remembers the running – the fear, the chase – but now he thinks, did it really happen? Was I just drunk?

He pushes it aside and goes into the bathroom for a splash of water and a spray of deodorant. He can’t dwindle on what may or may not have chased him when he was drunk. He has to take the broken camera to Mayfield and get on with the plan. He can’t let them down. He can’t let Paddy down.

Jesse leaves the flat with his school bag, the five pound note and the smashed camera. He strides through the streets and out onto High Street which is just starting to wake up. He pushes open the door to Milly’s Café but she’s faster than him, and in two strides is across the floor and blocking his way.

‘I don’t think so, young man! Not after last time.’

‘A bacon roll?’ he tries to ask, pushing the five pound note through the door.

She snatches it, scowling. ‘You’ll get what you’re given!’

Behind her he can see Steven and Dominic sat with some girls from school. They are all watching him and smirking in amusement. Milly slams the door on him.

Jesse leans against the wall, hands in pockets. He glares to the left and sees Willow lugging the gift shop sign out onto the pavement. Her hair is loose and hanging in her face and he doesn’t think she’s going to see him, until suddenly she does, and, checking over her shoulder she hurries over to him.

‘On way?’

‘Yep. Just grabbing breakfast first.’

She nods. ‘I’m going to speak to Mr Bishop on Monday morning and ask if the school kids can do our own search. As volunteers after school, in a different direction. What do you think?’

In his heart, Jesse knows it’s probably pointless. But he forces a smile for her earnest face and nods.

‘Good. I’m up for that.’

‘Good luck,’ she tells him and scuttles back to her shop.

The café door is wrenched open beside him and Milly shoves a white paper bag at him.

‘Do I get change?’

‘No. I’m keeping it for damages.’ She slams the door.

‘Oh hell.’ He walks away, peering into the bag. At least she gave him what he asked for. A white bap filled with greasy bacon and brown sauce. He can’t recall the last time he ate and digs into it ferociously.

Chewing on bacon and bread, Jesse strolls quickly down the alley behind the chemist. He feels sick by the time he reaches Station Road but he forces himself to eat every last bite of the bacon roll because he doesn’t much fancy hare soup later.

Swallowing the last lumpy mouthful, Jesse makes himself move by thinking about Paddy Finnis – missing, lost, taken – he takes deep, long breaths to steady his nerves and walks up to Sergeant Mayfield’s house.

He raps on the door but can hear a sweeping sound around the back. Trembling now, Jesse takes another deep breath and walks around to the back of the house. Sergeant Mayfield, dressed in uniform but minus his hat, is using a wooden broom to sweep up the broken glass of the whisky bottle. He stops when he sees Jesse and a faint look of surprise passes over his features before the lines in his face harden and set.

‘Yes, it was me.’ Jesse goes to him, head down and takes the broom. He starts sweeping the glass into a pile by the open back door while Mayfield looks on.

After a moment, he leans against the wall and lights a cigarette. ‘Following in your old man’s footsteps, eh?’

Jesse raises his eyebrows but doesn’t make eye contact. ‘I guess so, as predicted.’

‘What a shame,’ Mayfield sighs but there is mirth and malice in his tone. ‘Still, it’s to be expected. Though obviously you make your own choices, Jesse. You decide to drink whisky and smash bottles. No one makes you.’

Jesse resists the urge to roll his eyes. He remembers what Jaime said about asking his father whether there was bad blood between he and Mayfield going back years. Jesse knows that his entire family despise the sergeant, but he also knows they hate all police officers. Is the hatred simple and predictable or does it stem from something more specific?

He risks a look at Mayfield, who is staring right at him. ‘I guess my dad was a real pain in your arse back in the day?’ 

Mayfield grunts. ‘He was. Just like you.’

‘What kinds of stuff did he get up to?’

‘Ask him. Oh that’s right, sorry, you can’t, can you? He’s too drunk to stand most of the time, let alone talk.’

Jesse lets it go. He doesn’t want to push it. He sweeps the glass into a neat pile then Mayfield hands him a dustpan and brush and a plastic bag. Silently, Jesse completes the task and bags up the rubbish. He places it between his feet and pulls out the broken camera.

‘I came because of this as well.’

Mayfield jerks forward, face darkening. ‘What the hell did you do to it?’

‘Dropped it and trod on it last night. Sorry.’ Jesse hands it over and stares down at the bag of broken glass. ‘I need a new one,’ he says after a moment, and risks a look at Mayfield.

Mayfield folds one hand over the camera and uses his other to direct Jesse towards the wall. His back hits the brickwork and he stares up at Mayfield’s reddening face with alarm.

‘You useless little shit, you ought to be more careful! These things are expensive, you know!’

‘I’m sorry. It was an accident. I’ll pay you back.’

Mayfield runs his tongue around the inside of his mouth and nods. ‘Too bloody right you will. And you better get your act together, Archer.’ He pulls out his baton and swings it around one finger, smiling when Jesse flinches. ‘Getting a bit cocky, aren’t you? Rolling around the streets at night drunk and disorderly. I ought to take you in. It’s one thing after another. You’re utterly feral, you know that?’

Jesse blinks, his breath hitched in his chest, his legs like jelly. Mayfield swings the baton again and then pushes the length of it into Jesse’s throat.

‘I’m sick of the sight of you, boy. It should have been you who went missing, not that nice Finnis boy. That’s what everyone is thinking, you know. Why is scum like Jesse Archer still mucking around causing trouble in our town when a nice kid like Finnis is missing?’

He drops the baton and Jesse takes a huge breath, back pressed into the wall, eyes wide with terror. Mayfield steps back, pointing at him.

‘Stay there. Do not move a fucking muscle.’

Mayfield goes into the house, leaving the door ajar behind him. Jesse closes his eyes, counts to three, tells himself it’s for Paddy, it’s for Paddy… then he moves from the wall and peers through the open back door.

He sees a small, neat kitchen. An Aga oven with a copper kettle sat on top. A small white fridge in the corner. A larder. Some shelves stacked neatly with white crockery. The sink is below the window, spotless and shiny. A square wooden table sits against the wall with one chair. A newspaper, an ashtray, an empty fruit bowl and a small radio are on it. Jesse steps inside, barely breathing.

The doorway leads into a small warm lounge. Exposed brickwork and a fireplace surrounded by cut logs. One red sofa and a rectangular blue and cream rug. There is a small bookshelf and two pot plants on the windowsill. The front door opens out onto the street. The station cottage has no garden and he supposes a man like Mayfield has no need for one.

Upstairs then. Two bedrooms and a bathroom. Perhaps a loft. He hears Mayfield stomping back down and ducks back outside to place himself against the wall again.

Mayfield barges out and shoves a new camera into his hands. ‘Do it soon,’ he commands. ‘Do it well. I’m running out of patience with you, Archer.’ He snaps one finger. ‘Make yourself useful to me, or what’s the point in you, eh?’

8

Willow, Jaime and Ralph gather nervously in the overgrown alley at the end of Willow’s garden. They huddle together, arms crossed, eyes darting around for any sign of Jesse Archer.

‘Has anyone seen him yet today?’ Ralph wonders, gripping the straps of his backpack. ‘Because I haven’t.’

‘Me either.’ Jaime shakes her head. ‘I hope it went okay with the sergeant.’

‘I saw him this morning outside the café,’ shrugs Willow. ‘He seemed okay. Are any of you coming on the search later?’

They both turn their grave eyes upon her and nod solemnly.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Yep, definitely.’

‘I’ve got an appointment with the pastoral guy on Monday,’ Jaime adds then, frowning a little. ‘Mr Hewlett? At lunchtime. Anyone else?’

‘Nope,’ says Ralph. ‘But my mum wants me to go to that church vigil thing whenever that is.’

‘Feels like they’re checking up on us,’ shivers Willow. She almost smiles when she realises how like Jesse she sounds. She remembers what he said about Mayfield – he’s not a man, he’s a monster, and she shudders. Could the same be said about any of the others? Or does Mayfield work alone?

‘Here he is,’ sighs Ralph, gesturing behind Willow.

She looks over her shoulder and spots Jesse stomping down the alley, hands jammed into pockets, head down.

When he squeezes in with them they all hold their breath – awaiting news, information and instruction. Do they have a plan or don’t they?

 ‘He keeps the cameras in his house.’ Jesse wastes no time in getting down to business. ‘He made me stay outside the back door but I sneaked a look around when he was upstairs. It’s a small house. I reckon two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs.’

Willow exhales slowly, her eyes on Jesse. ‘So, it would make sense for him to store the book there if he has it?’

Jesse nods, his hands still in his pockets. ‘I reckon. It could be a dead end but yeah, I say search his house first.’

‘I really hope it is in the house,’ says Jaime. ‘Because the station will be much harder to search and it’ll mean we have to do the power cut thing twice.’

Willow bites her lip. She can see the fear on Jaime and Ralph’s faces and she feels for them. But they can’t back out now – they have to find that book. It’s the only clue they have.

‘Has anyone asked his dad yet?’ says Jesse. ‘About the book, I mean.’

Ralphs’s eyes light up. ‘He might have it!’

Jesse smiles slightly, shaking his head. ‘Mr Finnis wasn’t on that film, Ralph, only Paddy and Steven and Dominic were, so the chances are slim.’

‘I meant, ask if he saw Paddy with it or knows what it was called.’

Jaime nods enthusiastically. ‘You’re so right. There might even be another copy in the library or something. Maybe someone gave it to the bookshop and Paddy’s dad let him have it or something.’

Willow turns to Jesse. ‘Okay, plan on hold. We do not arrange the power cut or the break in until we’ve checked this out. You’re off the hook for a bit.’

To this, a half-grin pulls at his lips and Willow is disarmed for just a moment, having forgotten what his face looked like with a smile on it.

‘Not exactly. I’ve still got to break into Iris Cotton’s place.’

They all nod and fall silent.

‘I’ll go to the bookshop after the search,’ Willow sighs eventually. ‘It’ll be something to rule out, anyway. When shall we meet again? We’ll need to swap notes.’

They look at each other; each trying and failing to come up with a secure and secret location unlikely to have cameras installed.

Suddenly, Jesse brightens. ‘The ruins!’

Willow and Ralph nod automatically. ‘Haven’t been there in ages,’ says Ralph. ‘Last time I did, you and your friends chased me away.’

‘Last time I did, your brothers asked me for a shag,’ Willow adds dryly.

Jesse rocks back on his heels, grinning. Willow fights a smile and loses. It is nice to see him more relaxed.

‘What can I say? I am a no-good punk who hangs around with other no-good punks.’

‘Until now,’ Jaime corrects him and then blushes and looks away.

Willow clears her throat. ‘So, it’s safe there? A no-go area for anyone else and no cameras?’

‘Long as Steven and Dominic aren’t there, should be okay.’

‘Where is it?’ asks Jaime, eyes still averted. ‘What is it?’

‘Ancient ruins up on Rowan’s Hill.’ Ralph points to the opposite side of the valley.

‘Oh, wow. I haven’t explored that side yet.’

‘It’s just old ruins, not much else but there’s shelter and definitely no cameras.’ Jesse assures them all. ‘So, what time shall we meet there?’

Willow thinks fast. ‘Search is until 4pm. I’ll go into the bookshop straight after, so what about 5-ish?’

They all nod.

‘5-ish, it is,’ says Jesse, his grin finally fading. ‘Man, I really do hope Paddy’s dad knows something about that book. I’m shit scared to mess with Mayfield’s house and I’m not ashamed to admit it.’

Thanks for reading!

Please feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought of this latest chapter.

NOTE: Please remember this is NOT the finished version of Black Hare Valley Book 1. This book has not been to my editor yet or even my beta readers. There will be typos, grammatical mistakes, and sentences that need rewriting.

COMING NEXT THURSDAY: Chapter Ten “The Search”