Page 7 of She Saw What He Did

‘We’re not dogs,’ said Scott, affronted.

Ellen raised her eyebrows and found herself wondering if Porthaven police had to put up with this.

Chapter Five

The next day

Sparrow climbed from the boat and glanced at his watch. He had time to kill but he preferred it that way. It was better to be prepared was his motto. Besides, it gave him time to check the cargo and then chill on the beach with a few lagers. The collection wasn’t until four. He’d racked his brain trying to work out what could be in the metal box. It certainly wasn’t heroin. It was too small to hold much and for the life of him he couldn’t work out how to open the damn thing. Not that he had any intention of doing so. Best not to meddle was his philosophy. The cargo, when it had arrived, had looked like any other. Except, hidden amongst the bags of cocaine was the small box. That was what he was being paid fifty grand for; a bloody box. That had taken him by surprise. He’d removed it, as instructed and hidden it immediately. It all seemed a bit odd to him. He’d buried the box on Laslow Island. He’d never keep illegal cargo at home. It was one thing helping to smuggle it in but the last thing he needed was to be caught with it in his own gaff. Whatever was inside was worth a lot of money. You don’t pay fifty grand for someone to look after an empty box. He’d be glad to see the back of it and get his money. He didn’t mind smuggling in drugs but that was as far as he went. This was odd if you asked him. Of course, if they paid a decent bloody wage on this island, he wouldn’t have to do this at all. But this was something else and he felt uncomfortable. He didn’t want to get into anything nasty. He’d hand it over and that would be the last job he’d do. The fifty grand was his future. He consoled himself with the thought that if he hadn’t helped smuggle it in, someone else would have. He might as well have the money. He secured the boat to the jetty and glanced at the other boat moored there. He frowned. He’d been hoping the island would be deserted.

‘Fucking tourists,’ he muttered.

He looked along the beach but could see no sign of them. Seagulls screeched over his head as he pulled his rucksack from the boat and threw it carelessly over his shoulder. Finally, he grabbed a pair of binoculars and after taking one last look at the boat, began walking along the beach. He’d find a nice spot and take it easy for a while. He’d only gone a short way when he heard the sound of a speedboat. He turned and frowned when he realised it was making for Laslow Island.

*

Abby

‘This way,’ points Jared, studying the map on his iPhone. I pull a scrunchie from my rucksack and lift my hair into it. The sun is starting to feel hot and I’m grateful that I remembered the suntan lotion. We’d found a nature trail pretty much as soon as we’d landed on Laslow Island. It was the perfect place for photographs but not the best for phone signal. I was struggling not to show my anxiety, but it was difficult. I felt sure that everything was fine back home, but I would have felt more comfortable knowing that I had contact if I needed it. I step cautiously along the dirt trail, carefully avoiding loose pebbles. It’s bright in the sun and I regret not bringing my sun hat.

‘Aren’t you glad we came?’ Jared asks, entering a birdwatchers’ hide. I follow him in and squeeze myself next to him on the bench. It smells of damp wood and musty earth. ‘It’s so pretty here,’ I whisper.

He kisses me softly on the cheek.

‘I love you,’ he says.

I lay my hand on his knee.

‘I know.’

It’s cooler in the hide and the perfect place to take some photos. We sit silently and watch nature in all its glory. After a few minutes we move on to search for the geocache.

‘It’s up this hill,’ points Jared.

‘You should eat soon,’ I say casually, ‘You did bring your insulin, didn’t you?’

I know he won’t forget but Jared has a tendency to get carried away with things and often leaves it too late. The fresh sea air is making me ravenous and I’m hankering after the pasties we bought at the deli in St Cecilia’s.

‘I haven’t forgotten,’ he smiles. ‘Let’s get to the top first. Think of the view. You’ll get great pictures up there.’

The island is deserted, and I stupidly feel nervous that there are no inhabitants. Grains of sand have wedged between my toes and I shake my sandal free of them.

‘Don’t you find it a bit unnerving that no one else is here?’ I say, trying to sound casual.

‘It’s perfect,’ sighs Jared, reaching out a hand to me. ‘Who wants people anyway?’

He’s quite right. Birds chirp gaily around us, and I tell myself not to be so stupid. The peace and quiet is exactly what we wanted.

I join him, and he checks his iPhone.

‘Ah, we’re here. The geocache should be somewhere near.’

We look around but can’t see anything that looks like a hiding place.

‘I think we need to turn left, just up here,’ says Jared.

I follow a short path and look around.

‘It should be on the right,’ he says.

---