Three Mile Drove, Chapter Fifteen (standard:horror, 1430 words) [16/29] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Apr 21 2007	Views/Reads: 2832/1990	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
serialisation of a completed story involving a faded pop musician who inherits a smallholding in the English fens. There is far more going on in Three Mile Drove than initially meets the eye.

Chapter Fifteen 

‘Well Tim, this is a surprise,' Claire's voice was as steady as ever,
but her look was decidedly frosty. ‘What happened? What's so pressing 
that it couldn't have waited until morning?' 

‘Perhaps if we go inside,' McPherson said brusquely,
uncharacteristically hunching his shoulders, ‘it's bloody freezing out 
here.' 

‘Right.' Her eyes flashed annoyance as she jabbed the key in the lock as
though it was a lethal weapon, ‘You'll understand if I don't offer you 
a drink, it's a little on the late side,' she crossed into the hallway 
and turned to face him as he closed the door behind them, ‘now what is 
it, it can hardly be a social call close on midnight.' 

He took a step towards her, his hands shoved inside the deep pockets of
his trench coat, ‘I went back to the derelict house in Three Mile Drove 
this morning,' he said coolly. 

‘And?' she asked equally coolly, becoming impatient at his delaying
tactics. 

‘I found something interesting,' he said, selecting a cigarette from a
pack of twenty, placing it in his mouth then withdrawing it as he 
noticed her displeasure. ‘In the attic I found documents relating to 
the owner of the place...' he paused, watching, searching her face for 
the slightest change in her expression, for the slightest change in her 
expression, for the slightest weakening in the firm countenance, but 
the strong face was unyielding; there wasn't the faintest change in the 
way her eyes were set challengingly upon him. He lowered his gaze 
briefly and when it returned to her, he thought that if anything her 
look had become fierce. 

‘Why didn't you tell me the place belonged to you? I'm disappointed
Claire, we've known each other for a long time, it seems that you've 
been its owner for the past twenty odd years and you've never once 
given the place a single mention. Knowing how I feel about developments 
there and how I reckon it might hold the clue to the missing kid why 
have you kept it quiet?' He paused, his words had been quickly spoken, 
as if they'd been rattled from some sort of verbal machine gun, and 
laced with bitterness. He needed to catch his breath. ‘I confided in 
you, and you kept silent.' What I need to know is why?' 

She stared him out, ‘I don't see that's any concern of yours Tim, I
don't feel I need to explain my reasons to you, and particularly not at 
this time of night.' She turned away, placing her coat on the rack, and 
when she turned back to him, he could see there were dark shadows 
beneath her eyes. It was as if they'd just manifest themselves in the 
instant her back was turned, ‘All you need to know is that I can't help 
you in any way with happenings in Three Mile Drove. I finished with the 
place years ago. What goes on there now is beyond me.' 

‘Except that I don't think it is Claire.' 

McPherson ignored the glare in her eyes, usually warm brown eyes, which
now seemed red hot with anger, he sensed too, the anger in her voice. 
He'd never seen this kind of anger from her before, though he'd never 
doubted she was capable of it. But in his mind a show of anger often 
concealed guilt, and he was certain she was holding back. 

‘I think that you're hiding something Claire,' he said. He saw her eyes
narrow and her teeth clench, and pressed quickly on, ‘I disturbed an 
intruder this morning at your place, he'd either been into the attic or 
was interrupted in the process of entering it, by my intervention. He 
got away, though only because I fell, but you see, when I eventually 
got into the attic I didn't just discover the documents, I found an old 
scrapbook amongst the odds and ends. I found a newspaper cutting about 
the missing kid.' 

‘I don't know anything about a missing child Tim,' she said, and he
sensed her growing angrier by the second, her voice might have been as 
carefully controlled as ever but the expression said it all. 

‘Hey hold on, just hold on, I haven't come here accusing you of


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