Riddled on the Sands (The Lakeland Murders) Read Online Free Page A

to? It’ll be knackered, like. No use to anyone now.’
    ‘Evidence. There might be evidence.’
    ‘Oh aye. Well there’ll certainly be sand, I’ll tell you that for nowt. Gets everywhere, does sand.’
    Mann turned and looked through the window. The Bay looked flat, featureless, and the shore seemed a long way away already.
    ‘How long ‘til we get there?’
    ‘Just another minute or two. One of the lads will check for quicksand before we get out. Big lad like you, we wouldn’t want to have to pull you out, like.’
    Mann smiled.
    ‘How do you know where the quicksands are, then? Are they on a map?’
    ‘No, nothing like that. It moves around with the channels. The sea is always moving everything around, but you get so you know where the soft sands will be, given time. Either that, or you get stuck.’
    ‘Where you found the tractor, is there quicksand there?’
    ‘You can have a look for yourself in a minute. This is it.’
    The vehicle stopped, and the noise level fell. But Mann still heard himself shouting.
    ‘Am I all right to get out?’
    ‘Aye, looks like some of the lads have been out here for a while. They’re giving me the all-clear. Just don’t wander off anywhere, mind.’
     
    Mann was surprised at how flat the sand was, and how firm. It was slightly ridged, as if ripples of water had been set in sand, and it hardly moved under his weight at all. It was hard to believe that this landscape had been under water just a few hours before, and in a few hours would be again. The clouds had lifted, and it was hot when the sun came out. Mann found himself squinting against the glare. He walked over to the tractor, still upright but more than half covered in sand. The trailer was nowhere to be seen.
     
    The local Coastguard chief, who Mann had known slightly when they’d both been in the Forces, walked over. Mann remembered that his name was Mike something.
    ‘Not much to see, is there? Still, beats being in the office. I’ve been coming out here for years, and nothing beats it. Cleanest place in the world this is, and every time you come out you feel like an explorer. Not a footprint for miles. Know what I mean?’
    Mann did, but he didn’t feel like discussing it.
    ‘Would he normally have been this far out?’
    ‘Not normally, no, but it’s not that unusual. If he was into something good then he’d go out even further. Low tides this week, see, so he’d have plenty of time to get back.’
    ‘So what would he have been after out here? One of the rescue guys said he didn’t think it could be shrimp. Wrong kind of area altogether, he said.’
    Mike shrugged. ‘You’d best ask him. Sounds like one of the fishermen. Which one was it?’
    Mann pointed.
    ‘That’s Sam. Yes, he’s from a fishing family in the village. Just does a bit part-time himself now, but he’d be worth a chat. Tell the truth we don’t usually have much to do with the net fishermen. There are hardly any left, and they know the Bay better than we do anyway. You can have all technology you like, GPS and that, but without the experience this place is dangerous. Never the same you see. The sands are restless, like, moving all the time.’
    ‘So I keep hearing.’
     
    Mann walked round the tractor slowly. He was beginning to wonder if it was even worth recovering. Maybe it was better to leave it out here as a kind of memorial.
    ‘What about his trailer? All his gear? Washed away, were they?’
    ‘Aye. Probably half way to the Isle of Man by now. I expect the body will be washed up in a day or two, but as to the rest of his gear, no, I don’t think so. The odd thing might wash up, but how would we identify it?’
    ‘So an accident, you reckon?’
    ‘Oh aye. What else? Surprised to see you out here, Ian. It happens.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘Maybe he collapsed, maybe he got caught up in his gear and was dragged along. Maybe something broke and knocked him out. There’s no wheel tracks now, no blood, no nothing. There’s been