Darkside_ A Novel - Belinda Bauer [63]
Jonas did not have Marvel's experience or cynicism, but even his suspicions were raised when the man saw him, then blatantly turned and walked hurriedly back the way he'd come.
After only a very brief inner tussle, Jonas left his post.
He followed the man at a distance of about a hundred yards, taking in all he could about his appearance. Shortish, thinnish, wearing a long green waxed jacket over dark trousers and town shoes, with a waxed Stetson which marked him out as a likely customer at Field & Stream as he'd passed through Dulverton; locals did not wear waxed Stetsons. The wide brim shadowed his face as he passed under the orange streetlamps.
The snow showed Jonas that the man's shoes were small - probably a size seven or eight - with a distinctive herringbone tread.
The man bustled along quickly, glancing behind him once - which only made Jonas more determined to keep following him, even if he felt a bit as if he was doing this for no other reason than because he was bored and cold, and the man was a stranger in a stranger's hat.
The man walked into the alleyway beside Mr Jacoby's shop, which Jonas knew was a dead end. Jonas approached more slowly now, waiting for the man to turn around and come back out, but he didn't. After a couple of minutes, Jonas followed him into the alleyway.
He was gone.
The dark little courtyard behind the shop contained a few wheelie bins, some old beer barrels filled with soil which Mr Jacoby laughingly referred to as 'the garden', and a recycling box filled with glass bottles. The back of the courtyard was hemmed by a high fence, above which a spray of brambles formed an effective barrier. The only way out - other than through the back door into the shop - was over a four-foot-high stone wall between this property and the next. Footprints in the snow showed that that was where the stranger had gone. Jonas's heart started to race. The man had climbed over the wall and must have gone down the matching passage that ran along the side of the neighbouring house, rather than turn around to face him. It was not the action of a casual visitor who'd taken a wrong turning.
Jonas was about to vault the wall and go after him, when he heard a car burst into life out on the road.
Shit.
He ran back down the alleyway, slipping awkwardly on the cobbles. He overshot the pavement and skidded to a halt in the middle of the white road, looking up and down the narrow street.
There was no sign of the man or the car.
Shit again.
Jonas went back to the exit of the second alleyway and followed the distinctive herringbone footprints to a new gap between the parked cars. The fresh tyre tracks were still clear and snow-free - and had a loop in them before straightening up, which showed that the car had fishtailed. A quick getaway.
Jonas felt stupid. He should have got closer and followed the man into the alleyway immediately. Instead he'd assumed he would turn around and come back out. In his head he heard his old English teacher, Mrs O'Leary: Assume makes an ass out of u and me.
Jonas was just not used to being that suspicious - even of strangers. The thought that he might have lost the killer because he hadn't wanted to face the social awkwardness of confronting him in Mr Jacoby's 'garden' made him squirm.
He walked briskly up to the school, then back down to Margaret Priddy's without catching a glimpse of another person, let alone the stranger. The snow kept everyone indoors. At least he'd got a look at the man: his stature, his clothing, his style of walking, with its short townie steps. Probably late thirties to early forties. He'd recognize