“Fucking bookworm. So very punk.” Scowled Alex.

“Hey, there’s fuck-all wrong with reading, Alex. You should try it some time, you brain-dead moron.” Gary shot back at his friend. Alex grunted, but didn’t argue back. Instead, he stopped walking, and took another swig of water from the bottle that he was carrying, whilst the other three continued towards the bridge.

Shark wanted to know more about the haunted bridge.

“So, what happened with this James Friery guy?” She asked Gary.

“Well, James was on the run, at liberty for two or three days. During that time, he’d also managed to find himself a gun. This bridge, however, is where the authorities finally caught up with James, who, understandably, wasn’t too keen on giving himself up. There was a shoot-out, right here, at this very spot. James took out one of his pursuers before getting a bullet through the head. He managed to stagger over to the edge of the bridge, and fell down to the river below, landing on the rocks next to it.” Said Gary. He grinned again. “Rumour has it that the whole, ghostly scene - the shoot-out - has been re-enacted, many times, here on this bridge, late at night. There’s also been reports of walkers claiming to have seen the ghost of James Friery, walking around this general area. A couple of people have even tried to talk to him, by all accounts, but James doesn’t respond to them. He just stares, and then carries on to wherever the fuck it is he’s going to.”

“How would they know it was James, and not just some other walker?” Shark wanted to know.

“James Friery is a bit of a local legend, Shark. Ask most people from these parts if they could describe his appearance, and they’d probably be able to… he’s like the Ned Kelly of Coldsleet.” Laughed Gary. “What a fucking honour, eh?”

Gary, Shark and Mary crossed the stone bridge, with Alex close behind them. Gary turned around to check that his friend was okay.

“You alright back there, Alex?” He asked.

“Fine. I’m fine.” Replied Alex. Or I would be, if this fucking hangover would shift. Oh bollocks… I need a sodding piss now, too. “Guys, carry on ahead, I’ll catch you up… I’ve got to take a leak.” Alex shouted.

“Well, there’s plenty of places to go.” Smiled Gary, referring to the thick undergrowth and trees that lined the Black Pathway. “Are you sure that you don’t want us to hang around for you? It’s not a problem.” He continued. Alex waved his hand.

“Just carry on, man. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.” Replied Alex. Gary nodded. Alex’s three companions carried on with their walk, whilst he walked off the pathway, towards a large clump of bushes. Alex pushed his way inside, so that he was shielded from the rest of the group. When he’d finished taking a piss, Alex emerged from the bushes, and walked back onto the Black Pathway. He glanced back, towards the bend in the trail that they had already walked along; coming over the brow of Leeton Hill was another rambler. Alex didn’t think any more about this, and walked forwards, eager to catch up with his friends. From a distance, Howard Trenton watched his enemy move towards the other members of the group that he was with… which, of course, included Mary. Slutty little Mary, thought Howard, before vanishing off the Black Pathway, and into the adjoining undergrowth.

***

Extract from journal of Howard Trenton

If you're reading this, then you must be a fucking copper. And guess what? I don't like you. Any of you. And do you know why? Well, firstly, let me put your mind's at rest… it's nothing personal. Well, unless your name is Detective Tom Grogan. Be a good piggy, and pass on a message from me to Tom, would you?

ARSEHOLE

Now, where was I? Oh yes, I remember. Why don't I like coppers… well, as I said, it's nothing personal, just a matter of logistics, really; I'm on one side of the fence, and you bunch of tit-heads are on the other. You represent a threat to me, which is an interesting role-reversal, because usually, I'm the hunter. After you've read this journal, then I'll be the hunted, and you will have taken on my former role. Yet the irony is, I'll still be out there, hunting down Mary and Alex. So I'll be half and half; hunter and hunted. Cat and Mouse. Cat and Dog. It's all good fun though, don't you agree? It certainly passes the time of day away.

I do lots of walking; it's always been one of my favourite pastimes, and It's amazing some of the things that you can come across when you're out on a hike. For instance, I've spent many hours just wandering around Skerrington Forest over the years, it's almost like a second home to me. I never get lost in there, either, and I don't really know why… there's always been a familiarity with that forest in particular that I've never quite been able to put my finger on. I suppose that most people, when they're out in the forest and off the main walking trails, see only trees everywhere. I'm different, because I see so much more, and I remember everything, right down to the smallest detail too.

One day, I was mooching around Skerrington Forest, when I noticed, through some gaps in the trees, some vegetation that was growing in an odd manner. Instead of being more 'free-flowing', if that's the right phrase, this vegetation seemed to be clinging to something, which caused it to appear completely mishapen. I walked through the trees until I reached the anomalous bushes, and sure enough, the vegetation was actually growing all over a pretty large object, and looked like it had been for many years. Excited at my discovery, I began to pull at the vegetation to see what was underneath, and was surprised to find an old, half-rotten, wooden shed, right there, out in the middle of the forest, and for no apparent reason, either.

After an hour or two, I managed to completely uncover the door to the shed. It wasn't locked, but access to the inside was difficult, as I soon discovered that the tin roof to the old shed had completely fallen in, and was partially blocking the door. It took a lot of time to get that roof dislodged, so that I could actually get into the structure. The layman would have found nothing of interest inside the shed at all; whoever its owner had been, they'd long since stripped everything from the inside of it. But for me, it was a place of wonder; a small, decaying sanctuary, right out in the middle of nowhere. Just like the other place… the one that I'm not going to tell you about, the one where I hid two b0dies… oh, and Alfie Whitehouse's stupid cat, too.

So, mister policeman, you're probably wondering why I'm telling you all about that little shed that I found somewhere in Skerrington Forest. Well, I'm just trying to do my civic duty, I suppose, you know, 'assisting the police with their enquiries' and all of that shit. You see, when I catch up with Mary, I might, just might, take her back to that little forest pad of mine, and have a bit of a party with her, if you know what I mean… reckon you do, eh? Nudge nudge, wink wink… so, I've given you a clue as to where I could be hiding out, assuming you find this journal in time. And the reason that I've done that for you boys in blue, civic duties aside, is because, believe it or not, I'm actually not all bad. Or at least, I don't think that I am. No, there's definitely a tiny little slither of goodness deep down inside me, and that much I do know. Hopefully, I've proven that, what with this little clue that I've written down for you, but if you still don't believe me, well… that's your look-out. Honestly, I really couldn’t give a shit.

***

Detective Kevin Burrows walked slowly around Howard Trenton’s car.

“Looks like he never went to Ruthley then.” Stated Tom Grogan.

“Unless he caught a bus.” Replied Kevin.

“There’s no bus service to Ruthley from Coldsleet on a Saturday. Only on weekdays. I’ve already checked.” Pointed out Tom.