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Copyright © 2015 by Mark C Sutton

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

‘The Black Pathway’ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s

imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First published 2015.

Cover photo: Mark C Sutton

Cover model: CJ Charles as Howard Trenton

Cover Design: Zeelund

This book is dedicated to Charlie-Joe. For making my world such a brighter place.

The Black Pathway

Prelude

A young man, who was almost nineteen years of age, stood on a large slab of black rock at a location known locally as Wildbridge Hill, looking out at the view before him. He had a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face, hiding his nose and mouth. The youth had medium-length, dirty blonde hair, and cold, pale blue eyes, that were almost oriental in shape. Indeed, it was an occasionally whispered rumour, amongst the residents of Coldsleet, that the young man’s father had been of oriental extract, but this wasn’t correct. The young man was of average height, five foot eight tall, and had a skinny frame. He wore a long, thick, grey overcoat over an unfashionable jumper and jeans, together with sturdy hiking boots. In one of his coat pockets was a knife. The young man, whose name was Howard Trenton, took the weapon from his pocket and examined the blade for a few moments, before putting it back into his coat. He smiled softly, gazing back towards the moors and the mountains that lay not too far away. Above the landscape before him, the morning winter sky was crisp and blue.

“It’s gonna be another cold one.” Howard said to himself. He stepped off the blackened chunk of rock and onto some grass that crunched under his feet. He looked down at the grass, which was covered in a layer of white frost. “Yep… it’s gonna be another cold one.” He repeated.

Howard Trenton walked across the top of Wilbridge Hill, past an old and broken wooden bench, and towards the edge of the summit. When he arrived there, Howard looked downwards, to his hometown of Coldsleet that was spread out before him. Beyond Coldsleet was the Irish Sea.

“Wouldn’t want to be out there today.” Said Howard, before turning away from the edge of the hill, and strolling back towards the bench. This is where they found you, lying just by this bench here. Or, at least, that’s where you told me they found you. Sometimes… sometimes I’m not sure if you ever really told me the truth about anything. Maybe it felt like the truth to you, as if it all really happened, but perhaps it never really did. I know that you weren’t well… capable of imagining all sorts of nonsense… so, does that make you a liar? I guess not. Not if you really believed it, pondered Howard. He ground the sole of one of his walking boots slowly along the grass, leaving a dark line across the frosty surface of the floor. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you imagined what happened up here at all. If it was all in your head, then why am I the way that I am? No, you were troubled, mom, you were really fucking troubled, but that night, up here on Wildbridge Hill… it happened. I’m a testament to that, surely?

***

1997

The young woman was carried, on a stretcher, from off Wildbridge Hill by two paramedics, with a third person - a policeman - steadying and assisting them as they negotiated their way down the badly worn stone steps that led back to the main Coldsleet to Elman road. As the paramedics and their patient disappeared from view, two more police officers remained on the summit of the hill, standing close to a wooden bench where the woman had been found just half an hour earlier, by an elderly man who had been taking his dog for some early-morning exercise. One of the police officers, a thirty four year old woman called Diana Marsh, looked over towards the stone steps, wearing a sad expression on her face.

“I know that girl. Her name’s Loretta Trenton. She’s a regular.” Said Diana. Her colleague, a burly, tall, dark-haired newcomer to Coldsleet constabulary called Peter Taylor, looked at Diana, slightly puzzled by her comment.

“What do you mean, a ‘regular’?” He asked. Diana Marsh smiled.

“Loretta gets herself into a lot of… how do I put this nicely… awkward situations around the town. She’s not a well woman.” Diana advised.

“Why? What’s wrong with her?” Peter Taylor was curious to know.

“Mental issues, I’m afraid. Loretta is a diagnosed scizophrenic. She spends a lot of time down at Hingley-Edge… there’s a psychiatric hospital there.” Diana informed her colleague.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that place.” Peter replied. “One of my relatives, on dad’s side of the family, he ended up there, back in the nineteen seventies. He had a nervous breakdown… tried to top himself… then ended up getting sectioned. He was in Hingley-Edge for a couple of years, from what my father told me.” Said Peter. “I remember dad telling me that it wasn’t a very nice place.” He added.

“No, it isn’t.” Confirmed Diana Marsh. She gave Peter another smile, then took in a deep breath of the early morning air.

Diana Marsh looked down the hill, back towards the town of Coldsleet; her home and birthplace.

“So, what do you think actually happened to Loretta up here?” Wondered Peter. Diana shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m not sure… she looked as if she’d spent the night in a refrigerator. I could actually see ice in her hair. It’s as if it were freezing up here last night… except it couldn’t have been.” Diana pointed out.

“No… it certainly couldn’t.” Agreed Peter Taylor. “Me and Vicky had to throw the bedroom windows open last night, it was so hot and humid… just like it’s been for the past fortnight.” He said. Diana nodded.

“I fell asleep with an electric fan on… woke up at half two this morning, turned the thing off… except I was too hot and couldn’t get back to sleep, so on went the fan again. I reckon last night was one of the hottest so far this summer.” Suggested Diana Marsh.

“Yeah, it probably was.” Replied Peter.

“So, that being the case… why did Loretta Trenton appear to be half-frozen to death?” Diana asked. It was an interesting question.

***

Loretta Trenton stared up at the roof of the ambulance, then turned her head to the left. A kind-faced, plump lady was smiling at her, and holding Loretta’s hand.

“We’re nearly at the hospital now, love. How are you feeling?” Asked the woman.

“Like I’m coming out of deep-freeze… I feel like a defrosting turkey on Christmas Eve!” Loretta managed to joke. The plump lady smiled.