Banks spoke to Annie and two of the patrol officers while Gilchrist got his walking stick and torch, along with two spades they found in the yard, then the four of them set off up the rise towards Woadly Edge. It didn’t take long to get there, and the drifts had not covered the entrance. A gaping dark hole showed in stark contrast against the white surroundings. The snow was light enough that they could walk straight through it.
‘That’s her jacket,’ said Banks, pointing his torch towards the middle of three cave entrances. ‘That’s Winsome’s jacket.’
His voice echoed. They were standing at a sort of stone hallway or foyer with a high ceiling, or so it seemed to Banks, and Winsome’s quilted jacket lay on the ground in front of the central of three openings. There was no trace or sign of Atherton.
‘That’s a dead end,’ said Gilchrist. ‘She was trying to misdirect him.’
‘Which means she knew he was after her, and he wasn’t far behind,’ said Banks. ‘She must be bloody freezing.’
Gilchrist bent forward and went into the right-hand tunnel.
‘What are you doing?’
Gilchrist looked back. ‘If she went anywhere,’ he said, ‘it was down here. She’d know as well as I do about the left-hand entrance.’
‘What about it?’
‘It gets too narrow. This one’s narrow in parts, too, but it’s the only way in from here.’
‘Into where?’’ Annie asked.
‘I don’t have time to explain,’ said Gilchrist, edging forward even as he spoke, ‘but it’s a large system of passages and caverns, one of the biggest in Europe. There are miles and miles of connected caves in there, but it’s a bit like a maze.’
‘Can you get through?’ Banks said, bending in the entrance after him.
‘Yes,’ Gilchrist said, then vanished into the darkness.
Banks caught up with him and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget, Atherton might be in there, and we believe he’s a killer.’
‘I’ve encountered killers before,’ said Gilchrist. ‘I’ll make sure I see him before he sees me.’
Banks went back outside to Annie. ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘I don’t like this at all.’
‘Well, do you want to go in after him?’
Banks looked at the dark tunnel. Even when he shone his torch on the walls they looked slimy and uninviting. He felt a sense of claustrophobia envelop him. ‘No way. But if it’s for Winsome I will.’
He started to move forward.
Annie grabbed his sleeve. ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘Leave it to Gilchrist. He might be a civilian, but he’s a trained soldier and potholer. He knows what he’s doing. You don’t. You could get stuck in there or something.’
‘I hate just waiting around.’
‘You and me both. But like you said, it’s Winsome. He’s her best chance.’
‘What if Atherton is in there?’
‘At least he doesn’t have his bolt gun. And if he is, I’d say it’s already game over, one way or another, wouldn’t you? You can’t turn back the clock.’
‘You’re a real comfort.’
She was back at Spring Hill walking home from Sunday school and a man in a battered hat and a dark moth-eaten coat was following her. Only it was snowing and she remembered thinking, in the dream, that it never snows in Maroon Town. But it did, and all the flame trees were covered in it, all green and white and red like Christmas trees. But she was frightened. The man was following her. She thought he was probably the ‘Skinner’ people were talking about. He skinned his victims after he’d had his way with them. But there was another man on the scene, her father in his best Sunday suit, not his uniform, and they were fighting. The Skinner was going to kill her father and skin him. She had to get back to them and help but she couldn’t get through, she was slipping and sliding and getting stuck up to her knees and she knew she just couldn’t make it in time, a knife flashing…
Winsome gave an involuntary twitch and her eyes opened wide with fear. She realised that she had fallen asleep. She was waking from a dream. Moving carefully, she curled up into a ball against the cold. It wouldn’t do to fall off the ledge after all she had been through. She had no idea how long she had been there. Using her mobile light, she checked her watch and saw it was going on for five o’clock. About four hours, then. Had she waited long enough? Would the cavalry have arrived at High Point Farm? Of course, they would have no idea where she was. Maybe Banks and Annie vaguely remembered her mentioning potholing, but they probably didn’t know about the cave system here, or its access points. They’d be searching for her around the farm and the open moorland, hindered by the snow.
Where was Atherton? She wasn’t certain whether the shouts and screams she had heard earlier were human or just a trick of the wind, but she hadn’t heard anything for some time now. He certainly hadn’t got through to her in two hours, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t waiting at the exit. He could even have gone back to the abattoir and picked up his bolt gun. Or perhaps he imagined there were other exits, that she must be long gone, and had given up the ghost and scarpered. She just didn’t know. Was it worth the risk of going back to find out?
Despite the insulation of the rock, she was freezing. She wished she hadn’t left her jacket behind to try to fool Atherton. She rubbed her hands together and held her knees tighter to her chest. There wasn’t much she could do about her feet. They were like blocks of ice.
She would give it an hour longer, she decided. If no help had come by then, she would make her way back out as slowly and quietly as she could. Even if Gerry and the backup had no idea that she was in the cave, they would surely have got as far as High Point Farm, and she could outrun Atherton back down there.
Just when she had made herself as comfortable as she could again on the ledge, she thought she heard a slithering sound from the tunnel.
Atherton.
She strained, but heard nothing for a few moments, then she heard it again, a light scraping, like someone crawling on his stomach.
As quietly as she could, she stood up and pressed her back against the wall by the entrance. When he came out, he would be bent forward. Just one quick tug on his arm was all it would take, and his own momentum would take him over the edge. She had rehearsed the possibility time after time in her mind during her first anxious minutes in the cavern.
He was getting closer, up on his feet now. She could hear muffled footsteps, though there was something odd about them. If he had a torch, he must have turned it off, because the opening was still pitch black. Winsome tensed. It wouldn’t be long now. Just one quick pull, she told herself, then let go, or she’d be following him over the edge and end up impaled on a stalagmite. The shuffling got nearer and she was just about to reach out when she realised why it sounded so strange. He was limping. She relaxed just as she heard a familiar voice say, ‘Winsome? Are you there? Are you alone?’
Terry. She let herself fall back against the wall and slide down so she was sitting on the ledge again.
She had tears in her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said, laughing or crying as she spoke. ‘Yes, I’m here. And yes, I’m alone. Very bloody alone.’ She never swore, and when the word came out it shocked her. She put her hand to her mouth, but she couldn’t stop laughing. ‘I swore,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe it. I swore.’
Then he was standing there, his torch on again, illuminating part of the cathedral vastness before them. ‘Wash your mouth out,’ he said.
‘Help me.’
He reached down to help her to her feet, and as soon as she was standing she leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips, for far longer than she had even planned on doing.