Read Dancing Towards the Blade and Other Stories for Free Online Page B

her number.
    ‘It’s me. You’re probably still on the tube. Listen, come to the tree but don’t worry if you can’t see me. I’ll be nearby, but there’s something I want you to find first. Stand where the ball was found, then look up. Ok? I’ll see you soon.’
    He moved away from the tree so that he could watch from a distance when she discovered the bracelet. It worried him that it would soon be too dark to see the expression on her face when she found it. He sat down, leaned back against a stump to wait.
    It was the away leg of a big European tie and one-up at half time was a very decent result.
    Lee was at the fridge, digging out snacks for the rest of the game when the car alarm went off. That fucking Saab across the road again – he’d told the tosser to get it looked at once. The wailing stopped after a couple of minutes, but started up again almost immediately and Lee knew that uninterrupted enjoyment of the second half had gone out of the window.
    He picked up his keys and stormed out of the front door. The prat was out, by the looks of it, but Lee fancied giving his motor a kick or two anyway. He might come back afterwards, grab some paper and stick a none-too-subtle note through the wanker’s letterbox. Maybe a piece of dog shit for good measure.
    Rachel’s phone was lying on the tarmac half way down the drive.
    Lee picked it up and switched it on. The leather case had protected it and the screen lit up immediately.
    He entered the security code and waited.
    There was a message.
    Rachel had realised her phone was missing as soon as she came out of the station. She knew Alan would be worried that she’d taken so long and had reached for the phone to see if he’d left a message. A balloon of sickness had risen up rapidly from her guts, and she’d begun running, silently cursing the selfish idiot who’d thrown himself onto the line at East Finchley, then feeling bad about it.
    A few minutes into the woods and still a few more from where Alan would be waiting. It was almost dark and she hadn’t seen anyone since she left the road. She looked at her watch – the exits would close in ten minutes. She knew that people climbed over fences to get in – morons who lit bonfires and played ‘chase me’ with the keepers – so it wouldn’t be impossible to get out, but she still didn’t fancy being inside after the woods were locked up.
    She thought about shouting Alan’s name out; it was so quiet that the sound would probably carry. She was being stupid.
    Still out of breath, she picked up her pace again, looking up at the noise of feet falling heavily on the path ahead, and seeing the jogger coming towards her.
    Alan rang again, hung up as soon as heard her voice on the answering machine.
    He looked at his watch, leaned his head back against the bark. He could hear the distant drone of the traffic and, closer, the shrill peep of the bats that had begun to emerge from their boxes to feed. Moving above him like scraps of burnt paper on the breeze.
    He slowed as he passed her, jogged on a stride or two then backed quickly up to draw level with her again. She froze, and he could see the fear in her face.
    ‘Rachel?’ he said.
    She stared at him, still wary but with curiosity getting the better of her.
    ‘I met you a few weeks ago in the pub,’ he said. ‘With Alan.’ Her eyes didn’t move from his. ‘Graham. The cardiologist?’
    ‘Oh, God. Graham … right, of course.’
    She laughed and her shoulders sagged as the tension vanished.
    He laughed too, and reached around to the belt he wore beneath the jogging bottoms. Felt for the knife.
    ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I think my brain’s going. I’m a bit bloody jumpy to tell you the truth.’
    He nodded but he wasn’t really listening. He span slowly around, hand on hip. catching his breath. Checking that there was no one else around.
    ‘Well … ’ she said.
    He’d have her in the bushes in seconds, the knife pressed to her throat before she