Free Ravens Gathering by Graeme Cumming Page A

substantial capital amounts
paid after the sale of the houses.  He outlined the marketing plans he was
pursuing, and the partnership agreement he had made with the builders as a
means of reducing his overheads.  Everything was set out on paper, and a
copy had been left with the lending manager to put on his file.  His
presentation had been professional and confident, although he had taken several
very deep breaths before entering the branch.
    For the first half of the hour-long drive home, he had
replayed the meeting in his head over and over.  He knew he couldn’t have
done a better job.  He just hoped it had been good enough.
    The second half hour was filled with thoughts of what lay
waiting for him when he arrived home.  He’d phoned Tanya to let her know
how the meeting had gone.  His assumption that she would be pleased he was
keeping her informed was obviously misplaced.  It seemed that it only
served as a reminder of the situation he had dragged them into.  His years
of dealing with people meant that he was able to anticipate most
reactions.  Clearly, he still had a blind spot where his wife was
concerned.  What he did understand was that talking to her about it was
like prodding and poking at a wound.  Or, perhaps more accurately, at a
wounded animal – and probably one that was only too happy to claw and bite you
in response.
    His intention had been to spend a little more time in
Nottingham after his meeting at the bank, and he had told her he expected to be
back around five-thirty.  Rather foolishly, he now realised, he had
thought he should buy her a gift.  The idea was to let her know that he
was still thinking about her, even if he was busy trying to sort out the
finances.  From her heated comments over the phone, it was clear that the
gift would be considered an unnecessary expense.  So he had abandoned his
plans, and simply headed for home.
    When the kitchen door wouldn’t open, he briefly wondered if
she had decided to lock him out in a fit of anger.  But his key went in
easily enough, and he let himself into the house.
    The empty mug on the table was unusual.  Tanya normally
liked the table to be clear, so she tended to leave them in the sink, or put
them straight into the dishwasher.  It didn’t alarm Ian, though.
    He called out as he walked through the house, but there was
no response.  It was puzzling, because her car was in the yard, and she
rarely went anywhere without it.  The idea of Tanya walking into the
village was so improbable it didn’t cross his mind.
    In a way, her absence was a blessing.  He was convinced
there would be more confrontation, and having had the tension that came with
preparing for and presenting a case to the bank, he didn’t really want any more
right now.  So he headed for the bedroom, undoing his tie, and sliding his
jacket off.  It had been a stressful day.  For now he’d have a
shower, then grab a scotch and unwind.  If she wasn’t back in half an
hour, then he’d worry about her.

Nine
     
     
    They had left by the kitchen door again, and walked through
the yard.  Beyond the gateway, the track went by at a near right
angle.  If you followed it to the right, after a quarter of a mile you
would reach the village’s main street.  Turning left, you passed between
several old farm buildings – barns and stores.  Once past those, the track
opened out, merging into another yard area that was concreted over.  A
tractor stood idly up against a barn.  Tanya had never seen it used, and
suspected the Sullivans had left it behind for the
simple reason that it didn’t work any more .  She
had asked Ian about it, but his response had been vague.  She guessed he
didn’t know any better than she did whether it worked or not.
    This second yard was bordered by post and rail
fencing.  At a point that was in line with the track, the fence was broken
by a five bar gate, which was secured with a heavy chain and padlock.  At
the side of it was a