As he enters the footpath ahead of James he fixes his eyes on Tim’s rucksack, watching as it bobs along the trail ahead of him.

Saturday, Part Two

Matt focuses on the sound of the river.

It’s calming, and it helps. With each step along the footpath he’d felt less and less sure of himself, and as soon as they left the track and caught sight of the water glinting in the sunlight he’d begun to feel a deep sense of unease building in his stomach. It was the same feeling he sometimes got at work before a call; not an interview – those barely phased him at all anymore – but a big call, like when he had to ring up and confront someone before going live with a story about them.

As Matt stares at the river – stares and listens to the sound of centuries-old water flowing over the rocks – the unease is still there, but he’s able to block it out.

‘This is it,’ says Tim. He’s a few feet in front of Matt and James, standing on the river bank. As Matt watches him he slings his bag off and takes out a water bottle. He walks over to the water’s edge and lowers himself to a crouch. ‘This is where it happened.’ His voice is small and weak, and Matt can hardly hear him.

‘Where what happened?’ Matt says. ‘I mean, what, exactly?’

Tim pauses in the act of lowering his bottle to the river. ‘You know what happened,’ he says quickly. ‘My fucking dad happened. He came up and ambushed us, he—’

Tim’s voice cracks and he stops talking. Matt sees him shaking his head, and then he lowers his bottle into the water’s current.

James takes his bag off and walks towards the edge of the river. He dumps it a few feet behind Tim and then looks back at Matt, as if he’s about to say something. Then he wipes the sweat from his forehead and looks down at the ground.

Matt takes a couple of steps forward. ‘Why do you think they never got suspicious?’ he asks.

Tim turns his head slightly but doesn’t stop filling up his bottle. ‘Who?’

‘Oh, everyone, I guess. Our families, teachers, the police. All of them.’ Matt pauses. ‘Especially our families.’

‘What do you mean, suspicious?’

‘Well, all those years ago when the three of us walked out of Rutmoor, we told them that we didn’t know anything. They asked us where Mr Stevens and Gary and Tom were, and we said we had no idea. We’d gotten separated, we said. Told them the others must still be out on the moor.’ Matt pauses again and stares at the back of Tim’s neck. ‘It’s a bit surprising how easily they accepted it, don’t you think?’