The Crows

2:3 [A Town With Dark Secrets]

As they crossed the street, a young man approached them with an open hand, real fear etched in his eyes. "Spare some change, ladies, please? Please?"

In all the months she'd been there, Carrie realised with a start, he was the first person she'd seen begging for money.

Coastal towns around the country had their fair share of deprivation and economic problems, but Carrie had thought Pagham-on-Sea was a quaint commuter town, a dreary middle-class hideaway off-season and in the summer, all fish 'n' chips and Union Jacks. In London, she had run the gauntlet of human misery in the few hundred yards between her office and the tube station, but here, no one slept in doorways. She had thought that was a good thing, at first. Now she was thinking about what Rachel had said, wondering about the rumours about the Sauvants, the dead girl in the chimney. She remembered Joe Lin's cryptic comment about Redditch Lane – the Bermuda Triangle of Sussex, where people went missing.

The town seemed more furtive than before, the huddles of its buildings conspiring against her and all those who fell through the social cracks.

Carrie had next to nothing, but his haunted eyes made her look. "I've only got twenty pence, mate."

He nearly snatched it from her hand. "I only need another fiver, and they'll let me stay the night," he said, darting his panicked gaze from her to Mercy.

"Where're you staying?" Carrie asked, trying to judge his age. He couldn't be more than mid-twenties. A teardrop tattoo in faded blue prison-made ink was beneath his left eye.

He jerked his head in a vague direction. "The hostel, by The Mermaid." His Liverpudlian accent was out of place. He dropped his voice, quivering, knotting his fingers together. "I can't spend another night out here. I seen – I seen stuff. Seriously fuckin' – 'scuse my language ladies, I don't mean to swear, but seriously messed up stuff. I'm not a junkie, honest. I literally want a room, that's it, anything you can spare, please. Please."

Mercy thrust two notes into his hands, stiffening. "There's extra. For the train. You should try and get to Eastbourne or Southampton."

"Are you sure?" He looked at the notes. "Aw, love. Thanks a lot."

"Yeah. I'm sure." Mercy was fidgeting, darting a worried look at Carrie.

He hugged himself, battered jacket filthy and wet. "Just... you're the first person to speak to me, thank you, thank you for this, can I be a bit cheeky? Can I ask you a question? Nothing bad, just a question about - the hostel said I could ask about a job here." He fiddled with an inside pocket, pulling out a tatty piece of folded paper. "I dunno, I wanted to ask someone. I don't like the name of it. Hangman's Walk." He gave a rough, nervous chuckle. "Sounds, sounds a bit, whatsit, ominous, girls, know what I mean?"

Mercy backed off. "Mate, you don't want to go there. And I didn't tell you not to. Get a train." She tugged Carrie's arm. "Good luck."

The man clammed up then, taking the hint. He balled up the piece of paper in his fist, hurrying away in the opposite direction without a backward glance.

Carrie burned with curiosity and an odd sense of dread, but Mercy clearly didn't want to talk about it.

They marched off to the pub in tense, awkward silence.

The Red Ram turned out to be a chain pub off the high street, with a family-friendly atmosphere and big mullioned windows that let in the evening light, warming the rich mocha and red wine tones inside.

Carrie was left with her maelstrom of anxious thoughts as Mercy ordered their food at the bar. To calm herself down in the lonely flat she'd shared with Phil, she had walked herself through her childhood home, picturing it in meticulous detail. This time, she made herself imagine Fairwood, walking herself through the front door in her mind's eye and through the hallway, running her hand along the curve of the bannisters. She focused on the waxed surface of the wood under her fingertips, listening to the sound her footsteps made, inhaling the cold air and the smell of wood and tile. She walked herself through to the kitchen, the warmest room in the house. Dread knotted in her belly. She tried to shut the image down and return to the Ram, to reality, but she was stuck.