Dead And Buried

‘The Pearsons both had mobile phones, didn’t they?’ said Villiers. ‘Why didn’t they make an emergency call?’

‘Yes, that was looked into, of course. David had an iPhone.’

‘Oh yes. At the George, they said he was using it constantly to access the internet, to read emails and even to look at maps of the area with its GPS feature. The staff overheard Trisha telling him that he would run the battery down.’

‘Well if he was using GPS when they walked across the moor, it would have drained pretty quickly,’ said Cooper.

‘That would be the phone found buried in the peat.’

‘Yes, that was David’s. As for Trisha, she had a smartphone too, but she was on a different network. According to the phone company’s records, her handset wasn’t logged on during the relevant time. It seems likely that she couldn’t get a signal. It isn’t unusual in that area. Heck, it isn’t unusual anywhere in this part of the county.’

‘So where is Trisha’s phone?’ asked Villiers.

‘We don’t know, do we?’

‘No.’

Villiers looked thoughtful. Cooper waited, watching her expression, trusting her to put her finger on some significant point. Or at least hoping that she would.

‘The conversation in the restaurant sounds a bit staged, doesn’t it?’ she said finally.

‘What do you mean?’

‘It seems to me it could have been acted out by the Pearsons specifically so that the staff or other diners would hear it, and be able to report later that David’s battery was running low. It’s far too convenient.’

Cooper nodded, feeling slightly disappointed, though he didn’t know why.

Villiers opened the door of the car again.

‘I’ll do The Stones, then, shall I?’ she said.

‘We’ll both go,’ said Cooper.

She watched him lock the car and pull on his jacket, folding the OS map and shoving it into his pocket.

‘You want to go all the way up to Hurd Low and check out your theory, don’t you?’ said Villiers. ‘Your speculation?’

Cooper smiled. ‘You know me too well.’

They turned the corner by the youth hostel, past the entrance to Peveril Castle, which loomed above them on the hill. They entered The Stones by an outdoor clothing shop and found themselves in a narrow space between buildings, their footsteps echoing against the walls as they passed the tables outside the fish and chip shop. The river and the Peakshole Water bridge were just a few yards further on, where The Stones met Goose Hill.

Cooper tried to imagine that he and Villiers were David and Trisha Pearson leaving the George after their meal. With a bit of effort he could see the whole thing in his mind’s eye — the Pearsons looking at the falling sleet as they walked out of the door of the George, pulling up the collars of their coats and setting out to walk in the direction of their holiday cottage.

It had been dark for hours by then, of course. But if the Pearsons had chosen this route via The Stones and Hurd Low, they wouldn’t have left the street lamps of the town behind until they were on Goose Hill, just passing the last house and the back gates of Goose Hill Hall. He realised they were climbing quite steeply already, as they made their way up the slope of the hill overlooking Cavedale and the gorge of Peak Cavern itself.

He could picture the Pearsons reaching the top and coming out on to this gentler slope near Hurd Low, which had fine views in daylight towards Winnats Pass and Mam Tor. They must have had torches with them, because they would have been beyond any lights by that time, and the sky was heavily overcast. They would surely have been aiming to follow the path that linked up with the Limestone Way, just over the moor.

But the weather had changed in that time. The light flurries of sleet that had already been falling while they lingered in the George must have become more frequent as they walked up Goose Hill, turning to snow by the time they left the shelter of the town.

Cooper shook his head again. People so often didn’t realise how different the weather conditions could be when you gained a few hundred feet in height. Within minutes, the Pearsons could have been struggling through a blizzard blown across the moor by the wind. Their torches would have been almost useless, the track disappearing rapidly under drifting snow.

Was that what they’d done? He wondered if there was a point where they’d considered turning round and going back to Castleton. Or had they simply pressed on, perhaps misjudging the distance to their cottage, which had been such an easy walk in daylight and fine weather? He imagined them laughing and thinking what fun it was to walk through the snow in the darkness, with the mountains of the Dark Peak lurking in the low clouds and the sounds of civilisation deadened by the snowfall. He could see even David Pearson running ahead, kicking up the snow, calling to his wife, perhaps making a snowball to throw at her. All a big joke. Just a bit of a laugh.