Free The Darkness of Bones by Sam Millar Page B

traces—anything to indicate Adrian’s presence. Nothing.
    Rushing outside to the car, he hit the speed dial on his mobile. Perhaps Adrian had returned home? He listened to the monotonous sound, picturing the phone in the house ringing,willing Adrian to be there, to pick it up. Adrian could call him all the murdering drunken bastards of the day.
Anything you want to call me, just be there
…
    Instead, he got his own detached voice, saying to leave a name and number. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.
    “Hello? Adrian? Are you there, son? Pick up the phone … please …” Quickly, he dialled another number, hoping that Benson would be at his desk.
    Kicking the car into reverse, Jack slammed the accelerator, sending the car screaming forward, blundering into the darkness, almost hitting a tree before discovering his headlights were off.
    Shaken, he willed himself steady. “Go on, kill yourself, as well …”

    Cautiously steering the car on to the main road, he backtracked over his own tyre prints. He didn’t know why, but he was heading in the direction of Barton’s Forest.
    Ahead but barely discernable in the blinding whiteness, the snout of the white car eased into Adrian’s view. It was pale and initially he thought it a ghost. It resembled a metal pig feeding nervously at a trough as it gingerly ploughed through the snow, creating liquorice tracks in its wake.
    Although the forest was dark, there was a yellowish glow to the snow as the car’s headlights skidded off the surface, landing a few feet from where he hunched, tired, hungry and shivering.
    “A spotlight? Police …?” That was it. His father had called them, sent out a search party. There was relief at being found, although he was still angry with his father; still felt a simmering hatred. Yet all he wanted at this particular moment was to be in from the cold, given some hot soup and sent to bed.
    Trying to move, Adrian moaned with pain. His joints hadfrozen to the marrow. He felt more snow rushing against his skin, almost abrasive in its force. It quickly cocooned him, and this time the sensation was wholly different. It terrified him.
    “Here … over here …” he croaked. He tried to raise his hand, but it refused to budge.
    Listening, he could hear the dull sound of boots crunching on snow as a figure of a man approached.
    “Dad …?”
    The man bent down and stared into Adrian’s face, as if studying an exotic insect. It was weird the way the man angled his face to get a better look.
    “I’ve blankets in the car,” said the man, easing Adrian up. “What are you doing in the forest in this weather? You could’ve died, right here in the snow. Do your parents know you’re out in this?”
    The man looked familiar, even with the snow stinging Adrian’s eyes. He had met him before, but couldn’t quite remember where or when. Not too long ago, perhaps?
    “What’s your name?” asked the man, helping Adrian into the car.
    “Adri … Adrian,” said Adrian, his teeth shattering loudly.
    “Soon have you warm, Adrian. The heater will have you moving again. Don’t you worry. It’ll soon warm your bones.”
    Only now did Adrian notice the slab of linoleum stretched out in the back of the car, a shovel resting neatly on top like a rifle of a fallen solider.
    Then, in a flash of clarity, he remembered where he had seen the strange-looking man before. “I remember … I remember where I saw you,” he mumbled. The heater was on full blast, but barely making a dent in his skin.
    “You do?” said the man, looking confused as he checked hisrear-view mirror.
    “Yes … my barber’s had been closed … a death … you cut my hair, terribly … you shouted at me to close the door … keep the heat in … I remember … you gave me a sweet …”
    Ever so casually, the man produced a loaded syringe and pierced the tender part of Adrian’s neck.
    “What was … why … why did you do that? What … was …?” Adrian’s hand crawled