[2022 Wattys shortlisted story]
A missing family. A twenty year old murder. An old ghost story. And a private detective from London. But what do they all have in common? It's the job of DCI Neo Denzel to figure it all out.
In the quiet town of Mart...
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DCI Neo Denzel surveyed the scene with narrowed eyes. He took in the mud splattered Hyundai Kona, the doors thrown wide open with no signs of forced entry. Even from where he stood he could make out the two child seats in the back, their toys scattered across the floor. It was a family car, packed to the rafters with suitcases and snacks. There was just one thing missing.
Where was the Bennett family?
He reached into his pocket, without thinking, to pull out his cigarettes, only sighing when he remembered he'd thrown them out three days ago. Another one of his attempts to quit.
Taking a deep breath, he removed his hand and strolled around the abandoned car one more time.
A fisherman had found it mid morning. The engine still running, lights on, doors open, completely left by the side of Felton pond.
Neo turned away from the car and walked the short distance to the water's edge. He pulled up the collar on his trenchcoat and stuffed his hands inside the pockets.
Felton Pond was a gloomy, damp place on the best of days but on a day as wet and windy as this, it was bleak. Mist hung heavy over the water and the soft lapping against the bank was echoey.
He wondered for the hundredth time what the Bennett family had been doing there.
Felton Pond was no beauty spot. Only accessible by a dirt track after the road had been washed away several years ago, it was an isolated place, mostly frequented by teenagers who wanted to escape their pushy parents for a while.
The fog cleared just enough to see Felton Manor, the original house the pond had been named after. Once a grand English home, it had been left to ruin.
Neo made a note to see if there were any squatters in the building last night. Maybe one of them could have seen something.
'Morning Chief.'
Neo regarded his Sergeant, noting the fresh bags under his eyes and his scrumped shirt.
'Morning Gwilt. Bethy still keeping you up?'
DS Gwilt sighed, rubbing at his week old stubble. At 29, he thought he'd seen it all until he'd become a father 13 weeks ago. Now he realised there was still a lot left to learn, especially how to get his baby girl to sleep when she seemed determined to act like she was at a Black Sabbath concert.
'Sorry, I'm late. She just won't sleep,' he groaned.
Neo chuckled. 'Give it time. She'll get there.'
DS Gwilt grimaced but remained silent as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to make notes.
'What we got?' Gwilt asked.
Neo turned away and examined his own electronic notes.
