Baildon Moor - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Baildon Moor, Bradford, October 2013

Today, like every weekday, Les Carter parks his Ford Focus in a quiet lay-by on the Bingley Road at a few minutes after seven o’clock in the morning. He and his Irish Setter Prince get out of the car and walk towards the heart of the moor.  Once safely away from the traffic he lets Prince off the lead and the dog sprints off after the scent of a rabbit, his tongue lolling in the wind.

Les strolls along the footpath and watches the early morning sun rise in a soft salmon glow over the wood. He sees Prince two hundred yards distant, barely more than a rusty speck against the grey-green backdrop of the moors.

After a few minutes the dog returns and drops an object at his master’s feet. He wags his tail, pleased with what he has found. Les picks up the thing that Prince has brought him: it is a weathered jawbone with several teeth still in place. He inspects the bone, carefully turning it over in his hands and trying to identify the animal it came from – it is the wrong shape to be from a sheep or a deer, and much too large to belong to a fox or a rabbit. As he examines it, a silver filling on one of the molars flashes in the early morning sunlight and with dawning horror Les realises what he is holding.

‘C’mon lad,’ he says to Prince. ‘You and me, we’re going t’ police.’