The soft splashes of the oars carried across the water. The first climbed in, and as the second passed the long package into the boat there was something about the way it bent and flopped that made him realise with horror that it was a body. The moon briefly broke through the clouds as the two figures emerged from the car, and they took something large from the back and carried it towards the rowing boat by the water. Local kids, junkies, and couples looking for thrills often appeared at night, and he had managed to scare them away. Wary, he moved behind a bank of shrubbery and watched. He was outside, staring up at the sky and marvelling at its beauty, when the car appeared over the ridge and came to a halt. What they didn’t know was that a reclusive old man lived by the quarry, squatting in an old abandoned cottage which had almost been reclaimed by the undergrowth. They slowed to a stop as the trees parted and the water-filled quarry came into view. The car engine seemed to roar the suspension groaned as it lurched from side to side. The darkness was thick and clammy, and the only light came over the tops of the trees. With the headlights off, the car bumped and lurched across the rough ground, joining a footpath, which was soon shrouded on either side by dense woodland.
They arrived under the cover of darkness, just after three o’clock in the morning – driving from the houses at the edge of the village, over the empty patch of gravel where the walkers parked their cars, and onto the vast common. What they didn’t know was that they were being watched.
They knew it was an isolated spot, and the water was very deep. It was a cold night in late autumn when they dumped the body in the disused quarry.
Have a read and hopefully you will like what you read and want to read the rest of the book! Enjoy. To mark the publication day of the third book in Rober Bryndza’s Detective Erika Foster series, Dark Water, I am giving you a treat of the prologue for the book.
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