“Yeah, I think so.” Gary replied.

“How did he do that?” Wondered Mary.

“Fuck knows… but anyway, he used to bury his victims up on Scarr Mountain…”

“Scarr Mountain? That’s… what… thirty, forty miles from here at the most?” Interrupted Mary.

“I’d say about forty miles. It’s in west Nethershire.” Gary advised her.

“So, he used to bury his victims up on Scarr Mountain, or on some moors near to it. How many did he kill, Gary?” Asked Shark.

“No-one’s really sure, but they reckon it was around twenty women.” Gary told her, as he munched on a chocolate bar.

Shark turned to Gary.

“So, what’s Stephen Hartley got to do with Coldsleet Moor?” She asked, with curiosity; Shark knew a fair bit about ‘the Dead Winter Mountain murders’, but had never heard of any connection to Coldsleet or its surroundings.

“Well, some people around here reckon that there’s been a serial killer operating in this area for quite a while now. There’s been a fair few disappearances and stuff. Have you heard that, Shark? Mary?”

“Yeah, I have.” Replied Shark.

“So have I.” Said Mary.

“Right, well, one theory is that Stephen Hartley was responsible for some of those disappearances, and that the bodies are buried here, up on Coldsleet Moor.” Gary informed the two young women.

“Nah, I don’t buy it.” Shark instantly argued. “He was caught, two years back. There’s been more disappearances since then.” She stated.

“I said that Hartley was only responsible for SOME of the disappearances. Rumour has it, there’s another serial killer on the loose in this area.” Explained Gary.

“I still don’t buy it.” Said Shark, digging in her heels.

“Why not?” Gary asked.

“Because it just sounds like bull-shit. Stephen Hartley pretty much confessed to everything that he’d ever done. He wasn’t cagey about his crimes at all… sung like a fucking canary, from what I read about him. As far as I recall, he never once mentioned doing anything dodgy in this neck of the woods. Why would he bother keeping stuff secret? He didn’t have anything to gain from doing that.” Argued Shark.

“Fair point.” Considered Gary, smiling.

Mary jiggled her shoulders a little, readjusting the backpack she was wearing.

“Hey, wasn’t there another murderer who lived not far from Knighton? Some farmer who killed his wife and daughter, years back? Maybe he’s the serial killer?” Asked Mary.

“Oh, you’re talking about Ben Askew. Weird that, coz I was reading about him in the local paper, just before Christmas.” Replied Gary. “No, he’s not the serial killer.” He added.

“Why not? He was a double murderer, right?” Mary responded.

“Wrong. He was actually a triple killer. Good old Ben killed his wife and two daughters… they reckon he had some sort of breakdown and just went nuts… gunned his entire family down, the bloody fruit-cake.” Remembered Gary.

“Well, if he could do something like that, I don’t see why he couldn’t be the one responsible for some of the disappearances around here.” Argued Mary.

“Impossible. He was banged up in a mental institute for just over twenty years… that’s what the newspaper article I was reading was all about. He was released, just before Christmas, and there was a bit of a fuss about it in Knighton, coz he’d bought another farm, not far from Oakden, and so was living back in the area again.” Advised Gary. “The locals… they weren’t happy… obviously.”

“I’ve never heard of him.” Admitted Shark, who was the one now feeling a little bit left out of the conversation.

“It was years ago, Shark. The killings happened before I was even born.” Said Gary.

Gary Ackley remembered something that he thought Mary and Shark might find interesting.

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot to mention… my granddad’s brother, Tom… he was a drinking buddy of Ben Askew’s, back in the day.” Gary told them.

“Really?” Asked Mary. “What was he like?”

“Who? My granddad’s brother? He was sound. Bit of a piss-head, but sound.” Joked Gary. Mary gave Gary a playful push.

“No, I meant Ben Askew, you twat.” She said.

“By all accounts, he come across as a really nice bloke, a proper family man. Great uncle Tom used to drink with him all the time, and never saw anything untoward in him. Yet one day he just topped his whole family. It’s fucking mental, when you think about it.” Gary mused.

“I wonder what made him go…”

“Hush!” Said Shark, suddenly. Gary and Mary turned to her. Shark was wearing an alarmed expression.

“What? What is…”

“I said hush! Be quiet! Listen…” instructed Shark.

“Listen to what?” Asked Gary. And then he heard what she was referring to; it was a voice. A male voice. A male voice screaming for help. It was the voice of Alex Crennell.

Gary, Mary and Shark stood on the slope of Coldsleet Moor, listening to Alex Crennell’s cries for help.

“Someone… please… I’m sinking…” he shouted.

“How the fuck has Alex ended up here on the moor?” Whispered Shark.

“You know what a clumsy twat he is. He’s obviously got lost.” Surmised Gary.

“But it sounds like he’s somewhere ahead of us… how the hell has he gotten ahead of us?”

“I haven’t got a fucking clue… but that’s definitely Alex, and it sounds like he’s in big trouble. We’ve got to do something. Agreed?” Gary asked Mary and Shark. They both nodded. “Alex!” Shouted Gary. “It’s me, Gary. What’s happened to you?” There was silence for a few seconds.

“Gary! Gary! I’m stuck, man! I’m stuck in some fucking peat bog, and I’m sinking, fast!” Replied Alex, from somewhere in the mist.

“Okay. Try and calm down Alex, we’re coming to get you.” Gary turned back to Mary and Shark. “You ready, girls?” He asked them.

‘What if Alex is just pissing around?” Mary wondered.

“It doesn’t sound like he’s pissing around, Mary. I know that he’s a complete prick, but he needs our help.” Said Gary.

“Okay. Let’s go and find him then.” Mary replied.

“Right. I’ll lead the way… both of you, stay right with me.” Instructed Gary, and he left the Black Pathway, heading towards Alex Crennell’s cries for help.

The three walkers ventured onto the moor, trying to locate their former friend.

“Alex, I need you to keep talking, so that we can find you.” Shouted out Gary.

“What do you want me to fucking talk about, Gary? I don’t want a conversation, I just need you to pull me out of this fucking mud before I go under, man.” Alex shouted back to him.

“Look, Alex, we’re trying to get to you as fast as we can, but it’s a bit bloody difficult when we can’t see where you are, so, like I said before, just keep talking… how the hell did you get out onto the moor?” Gary asked.

“I don’t fucking know! I was just walking, that’s all. I thought I was heading back to Coldsleet, but I must have got lost what with all of this bloody mist. Hey, can you hurry up, Gary? I’m waist-deep in this shit and I can’t get out. It’s sucking me down, man!”

“Just keep talking, Alex. I don’t think that we’re far from you now.” Said Gary.

“Okay, okay.” Replied Alex, from somewhere nearby.

“Alex, whatever you do, don’t try and struggle. I watched a documentary a couple of years ago, about people getting trapped in quicksand. You have to just keep still, mate, don’t wriggle around, struggle… it’ll just make you sink faster.” Instructed Gary.

“But I’m not in fucking quicksand!” Whined Alex Crennell.

“I know you’re not, Alex, but it’s the same bloody principle. So just try and stay as still as possible. Understand?”

“Yeah, I understand… Gary, how deep are these sodding peat-bogs?” Alex shouted out.

“Deep enough to drown you. So just keep still.” Replied Gary.

“Okay. I’ll try.” Said Alex. “But can you hurry up? Please?” Alex pleaded.

“We’re nearly with you, Alex. Just hang on in there.” Gary tried to assure him. He looked around to Mary and Shark, who were following behind him in silence; they both looked scared.