Page 35 of Worse Than Murder

‘What did you say?’ I ask, once I’m closer.

‘I found that tree we saw get hit by lightning,’ he says, his face dirty with soot. He’s obviously touched the scorched bark. ‘It’s all black and in pieces. You can still smell the burning. It’s so cool.’

One of the dogs jumps into the lake and swims out to join me. The other follows and swims around the trees, snatching away at the broken off twigs and branches.

‘You look cold,’ Carl says.

‘It’s a bit chillier than I expected it to be.’

‘What’s that?’ He points to something entangled in the branches.

‘Where?’

‘There by Woody.’

I crane my neck to see where Carl is pointing. I swim over, both dogs joining me, getting in my way as I try to pull whatever it is free. It’s a piece of plastic, rectangular in shape. I manage to free it, turn it over and wipe the smooth surface.

‘It’s a registration plate,’ I say.

‘Where did it come from?’

‘I’ve no idea. E311 TVC,’ I read it out. ‘That’s an old number. E-reg must be… I’m not sure…1990s, possibly.’

‘Wow. That really is old.’

‘It’s not that old, Carl. I was born in… never mind,’ I say, suddenly wondering if Carl would consider me ancient if he knew I was born in the 1970s.

‘The storm wouldn’t have blown that all the way out here, would it?’ he asks.

I look around me. There are no cars around here. The woods are in the way of nearby streets. If a car registration plate had become detached somehow, there is no way it could have blown all the way out to the lake. There is only one place it could have come from, and that was from down beneath the surface of the water.

‘Carl, take this,’ I say. I swim to the edge and hand Carl the number plate.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m going to have a look and see if I can see a car.’

‘Oh, cool. You think there’s one down there?’

‘When it comes to the bottom of lakes and rivers, Carl, there are all manner of things down there. At the bottom of the River Don in Sheffield, police divers were searching for a missing man, and they found two abandoned ATM machines, a sawn-off shotgun used in a bank robbery in the 1980s, and a Sky satellite dish.’

‘Was there any money in the machines?’

‘No.’

‘Shame. Did you find the missing man?’

‘No. I believe he’s still missing. Do you want to shout the dogs back? I don’t want them trying to freedive to the bottom of the lake.’

‘Sure.’

Carl shouts for both dogs. They ignore him until he plunges his hand into his pocket and pulls out a couple of small Bonio biscuits. They doggy-paddle to the edge and shake off the excess water before emptying his pockets of biscuits.

I swim away from the felled trees, take a deep breath, and dip below the surface. Despite the storm and trees crashing into the water disturbing the detritus beneath, it is still relatively clear, and I’m able to see further than the end of my nose. Unlike the filthy water of the River Don where it’s not even safe to step into without wearing a full HAZMAT suit. Thinking about the level of pollution and the murky water makes me shudder. Compared to that, the water that makes up Lake Windermere is practically drinkable.

I surface, catch my breath, then go down again. I turn, look about me, and can’t see anything resembling a vehicle. I swim down, left and right, but there’s nothing there. Having never been diving before a day in my life, I’m not adept at holding my breath for long periods of time. I resurface.

‘Have you found anything?’ Carl shouts.