mate, but you were high as a kite and seeing snakes and faces. You might easily have imagined you saw people inside it.’
‘No, there definitely were people,’ insisted Alex. ‘Let’s have a look at the map.’
Hex handed it over.
Alex scanned the area around them, then compared it with the compass. ‘There’s another one just over that hill.’ He set off at a jog.
Hex sighed. ‘Just over the hill’ was quite a way. Still, he liked to do at least one really long run every week.
They jogged up to the next peak. Down below was another small bothy with grey slate tiles. ‘That’s it,’ panted Alex. ‘It’s got a roof.’
Don’t get your hopes up, thought Hex as he followed him down.
This bothy was in much better condition. There was glass in the window, a sturdy door. Alex looked at the stone mullioned window and then at the ground beside it.
In the short, wiry grass was a small pile of pink and red matter. Alex’s heart started pounding like a steam hammer. He heard Hex’s voice as if from a long way off. ‘Alex, they’re deer entrails. Something’s had a go at them, but they’re from a deer.’
Hex was worried. Alex was clenching his fists, the knuckles white, his forehead grinding into the stone wall. Was he having a flashback? Hex reached out and touched him gently on the shoulder. ‘Alex?’
Alex looked down at the little pile on the ground. He breathed out slowly to calm himself. Look at what’s actually there, he said to himself. He’d seen animal entrails enough times not to be shocked by them. There were the intestines – a greyish pink curl with kinks like unravelled knitting. Those were the snakes. There was the heart – half eaten, and definitely not beating. There was a corner of the liver – most of it had gone but enough of its shiny lobes remained to show him why he had thought it was lips. And the kidneys, surrounded by white fat. That was what he’d thought was eyes.
‘The people you saw were probably just gamekeepers gutting a deer.’
Alex ran a hand wearily through his hair. ‘No, there was something else.’ He sighed. ‘I just can’t remember it.’
Hex pressed his face to the window and cupped his hands around his eyes. ‘Quite cosy in here.’
Alex looked too. Once again he was transported back to the previous night. There were things he’d seen but not particularly noticed: the fireplace, dusted with the remains of old fires; the pile of wood to the left-hand side of it; the oil lamp on the simple wooden table; the rough low benches; the washing line stretched across the room for drying wet clothes.
Hex moved to the door. ‘Might as well have a look inside.’ He tried the latch but the door wouldn’t move. He looked down at the latch. Underneath it was a keyhole. ‘It’s got a lock.’
Alex joined him. ‘It shouldn’t have. The door’s probably reclaimed from another building.’ He put his thumb on the latch and pushed but the door didn’t budge. He frowned and looked at Hex. ‘These are supposed to be open so that anyone can use them.’
Hex stepped back and looked at the building. ‘Maybe it’s private property.’ He walked round. Perhaps there was a sign or a notice they’d missed.
Around the other side, they found one:
GLAICKVULLIN ESTATE
THIS BOTHY IS ALWAYS UNLOCKED AND CAN BE USED
BY ANY PASSING TRAVELLER
PLEASE LEAVE IT AS YOU FIND IT
Alex looked at Hex. ‘Then why is it locked?’ A thought occurred to him and he gripped Hex’s arm. ‘Hex, I saw something weird last night and I can’t quite remember it. It’s like a radio station that’s just out of tune – I can’t get it but I know it’s there. What if it was a murder? A dead body being cut up? There was definitely blood. And now they’ve locked the bothy so no one can get in and look around.’
‘Alex, think,’ said Hex. ‘Do you really believe you saw a murder? If so, we’d better go to the police.’
Alex kicked the wall in frustration. ‘I saw