Hunted by Heather Atkinson

door.
    Whereas Chris was tall, slender and blond, Angela was short, chubby and dark. They couldn’t have been more opposite but Ryan had always thought they seemed happy together. They were several years older than himself and Rachel, their children were teenagers, two of whom had moved out. Only one of their three sons remained at home.
    The Marsh house looked like a working farmhouse, it wasn’t all sleek and contemporary like their own. The kitchen units were wood with a butler’s sink, copper pans hung from the ceiling and fresh flowers sat in a jug on the windowsill. The smell of baking bread wafted from the oven. It was like something from Emmerdale. Ryan knew because it was one of Rachel’s favourite programmes. When she watched it he pretended to show disdain and hid his face behind a book when in fact he was listening in, following the storylines. That was a secret he would keep even from his wife.
    “No Rachel?” said Angela.
    “Hairdresser’s appointment,” Ryan replied with a wry smile.
    “We heard about what happened up at your house,” said Angela as she brewed them all fresh coffee. “Do they know who it is yet?”
    “Angela, please,” said Chris. “Have a little tact.”
    “It’s alright,” said Ryan. “I’d rather you asked me about it directly rather than listen to the rumour mill. No, they don’t know yet.”
    “It’s horrible knowing it was up there all that time,” said Angela, gazing out of the window across the fields to Rachel and Ryan’s house. She placed a sympathetic hand on his arm. “You and Rachel must be so upset, I know how much you were looking forward to moving in.”
    “Leah’s the one who’s been hit the hardest,” he said.
    “Poor girl. What have you told her?”
    “Unfortunately her friends at school got there first so she knows everything.”
    “Why don’t you bring her here after school? She can ride and groom Sophia. It’ll take her mind off it for a while,” suggested Angela.
    “That would be wonderful, thank you.”
    She nodded and handed him a hot mug of coffee.
    “So, do you have a theory as to who that body is?” said Ryan, taking special notice of Chris’s reaction. “Everyone else seems to have one.”
    “I think it’s one of those missing men. I mean, who else could it be?” said Angela.
    “Makes sense I suppose,” said Chris, taking a sip of coffee.
    “It’s only a matter of time before the police find out who the body is and who killed them,” said Ryan. Even though it pained him to give the police any sort of praise it was a necessary evil to try and get a reaction from Chris.
    “You never know. Whoever did it has got away with it for this long and any evidence might have been destroyed by now,” said Angela.
    Ryan wondered if she was trying to convince herself because someone close to her was responsible but she appeared perfectly relaxed, just indulging in a bit of gossip.
    “Who knows?” said Ryan. An idea leapt into his head that suggested a way he could test Gerard’s theory about Chris’s sexuality. When Angela bent down to the oven to retrieve her baking bread Chris held the door open for her, so Ryan took the opportunity to tip his coffee down the front of his t-shirt, grateful that Angela had put a lot of milk in it.
    “Oh no, I’m so sorry,” he said, hastily putting down the mug on the scrubbed pine table and pulling off the t-shirt before he got burned. Despite his swift response he was still left with a patch of reddened skin on his chest.
    “Are you okay?” said Angela, dumping the baking tray holding the fresh bread on top of the hob and hurrying over to him. “Oh my,” she said, staring at his body.
    He looked to Chris, who was also gaping in astonishment - and interest.
    “Here, this will stop you burning,” said Angela, pulling a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer and pressing it against his chest, causing him to release a gasp of surprise. She remained where she was, pressing the bag harder