The Water's Edge

CHAPTER 4

'How could you!' she screamed, outraged.

Her usual subservience had evaporated, gone was the fear of antagonising him, her limit had been reached and there was no holding her back. She was crying and wiping away her tears, she half ran all the way to the barrier, but it took her a while because her legs were so short.

'You're insane!' she yelled.

Reinhardt scrambled behind her on the path, muffled swearwords reached her ears. They made it to the car simultaneously; Kristine slumped across the bonnet and sobbed. It was all too much for her: the body of the boy they had found and Reinhardt taking pictures of him. Reinhardt got into the car, found a cigarette and lit it, his lips tightened. Nevertheless Kristine thought she had detected a hint of embarrassment because she had pointed out his desire for sensation, something he would never own up to. He exhaled three times, the smoke coming out as white clouds.

'It was just a gut reaction,' he said, 'or, I don't know. It just happened.'

'But what do you want them for?'

She straightened up and looked at him, her green eyes shining. 'What are you going to do with those photos?'

'Nothing,' he replied in a sullen voice and kept smoking in defiance.

'Think about his parents,' she appealed to him. 'Imagine if they knew you had those photos: you have to delete them, it's not right!'

'Well, they don't know that I've got them,' he argued, slowly starting to get riled. 'And of course I'll delete them, I'm not an idiot, Kristine, how dare you take that tone with me, I'm in charge of my own life, so don't you start telling me what to do!'

When his outburst had finished, he carried on smoking. Kristine tried to calm herself down; she was always terrified when he raised his voice. She was still slumped over the bonnet, feeling upset and nauseous. They peered down the road for the cars, which were meant to turn up. Kristine suddenly remembered something, she looked at Reinhardt in the car.

'That man we passed,' she said, 'the one we met at the barrier. In the blue anorak. What do you think he was doing up here?'

Reinhardt got out of the car and squatted down.

'It might have been him,' she said. 'He could barely look me in the eye. Surely we need to report him? They'll be asking us. If we saw anything. People or cars.'

Reinhardt coughed to clear his throat. He suddenly became very busy. He slammed the car door hard and started pacing up and down like he always did when he was in a state about something.

'The car?' he said. 'You saw the car?'

'Yes,' she said. 'I saw it quite clearly.'

'It was white,' he stated.

'It was an older model,' she said, 'but the paintwork was in very good condition.'

'We need to focus,' Reinhardt said. 'They'll want details.'

Kristine thought back. She had got a good look at the man, she had looked him in the eye, and an image of his face had imprinted itself on her retina. She had flashed him a brief smile out of reflex politeness, a smile he had not returned. He had looked back at her in horror and he had certainly behaved in a suspicious manner, as if they had caught him red-handed. I didn't like him, she thought, the one second I looked him in the eye was enough to give me a feeling about him, and it was not a good one.

'How old was he?' Reinhardt said. 'What do you think, Kristine? Come on, we need to be ready.'

She thought carefully. 'Somewhere between forty and fifty,' she declared.

He wrinkled his nose with displeasure. 'We need to be more specific than that,' he stated. 'No, not as old as fifty.'

She made no reply. She, too, started pacing up and down the road, she circled their parked car. The sun shone off the silver Rover. Reinhardt made sure it was always washed and polished.

'I hope they get here soon,' she said.

'There'll be a whole army of them, Kristine, believe you me.'

She turned away from him and kept silent. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and chewed on a nail, a bad habit she had never managed to quit. Time had never passed so slowly, waiting had never felt like this. She could no longer enjoy the serenity of the forest, the susurration of the enormous treetops, the rustling leaves. She looked at Reinhardt for a long time. He was leaning against the car, his arms folded across his chest.

'What the hell is taking them so long?' he snapped.

'It's the road,' she replied. 'It's in poor condition. You can't drive very fast on it.'

They spoke no more. In their minds they were back by the cluster of trees, with the little boy, and Kristine was suddenly glad about the way he lay. Face down in the moss. She had not seen his eyes. She stared along the road. Finally she heard a car. Reinhardt stubbed out his cigarette and straightened his back. It was as if he was getting ready for the performance of his life.