A Grave Mistake

by Rachel Amphlett

About the Author: Before turning to writing, Rachel Amphlett played guitar in bands, worked as a film extra and freelanced in radio as a presenter and producer for the BBC. She now wields a pen instead of a plectrum and is a bestselling author of crime fiction and spy thrillers, many of which have been translated worldwide. A keen traveller, Rachel holds both British and Australian citizenship.

Excerpt

It was the sound of his panicked breathing that scared Ben the most.

A late autumn sun collapsed beneath a line of naked hornbeam and oak, its rays shrivelling against a pale grey sky that receded through an expanse of tangled branches.

The last tentacles of heat retreated from a dirt path, withered away under rotten ferns and bracken, then surrendered the woodland to a damp biting cold.

He tipped back his head and swore.

A blackbird scuttled out from under a buckthorn shrub then took flight, its brittle parting cry rebuking him for the disturbance.

Ahead, an algae-covered pond sat nestled within a grove of birch trees, taunting him.

It was their third meeting within the space of forty minutes.

The stench hadn’t improved since their last parting, the rancid aroma from the stagnant water wafting on the breeze.

He placed his hands on his hips, and then turned his back on the fetid pool and took off down the next fork in the path, a renewed urgency in his stride.

This route was narrower, twisted, less used.

The boughs above his head crowded in as if curious to know who walked amongst them.

Hazel saplings poked and prodded at his padded black jacket that looked great, but allowed every cold tentacle of wind to wrap its way around his body as he pushed his way through the thickening undergrowth.

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