Renee Veenstra

Prologue The accidental killer looked around him, sweat rolling from his hairline along his brow in rivulets. His hands scrabbling through the sand and sheep droppings, he tried to find enough loose stones to weigh down the heavy-duty garbage bag in front of him. He swore when knife sharp shards of oyster cut his fingers. In the distance he heard the sound of an approaching car. To his left, a goose honked sleepily. Ever faster he searched for rocks and stones. Away, he had to get as far away as possible, before he was seen! He held his breath when the car passed him, the sheen of headlights seen just above the dyke, and then moving down the narrow road. When he heard an asthmatic cough behind him, he froze. His bowels threatened to loosen and once more he held his breath, pressing his buttocks together. Again the cough, but this time it sounded less human and more animal. His overheated brain provided him with an answer. Sheep droppings – that meant sheep. As soon as he couldn’t find any more ballast, he tied a tie-wrap around the stiff plastic of the bag, wrestling with its folds. Scrambling up, he dragged the dead weight towards the waterline. Christ, it was heavy going! The blue plastic made a tearing noise, and suddenly all round him there came an alarmed honking and the flapping of wings as the Canadian and Grey Geese woke up and tried to get away from the danger. He...