The Score by Howard Marks

down the tunnel, almost disappearing into the darkness, an old piece of plastic sheeting had been fashioned into a tent, to keep off drips from the rough rock ceiling above. A few dry branches did the job of tent poles, sheltering a mound of polystyrene containers, two Domino’s Pizza boxes and a mountain of empty cans. It was away from Nia’s things, and Cat guessed that the girl had neither made nor used it.
    She looked over at Thomas. ‘What’s this stuff here?’
    ‘Kids used to use the place as a drinking hole. Council found out eventually, closed it up.’
    Cat pointed back towards Nia’s sleeping bag. ‘Did her friend ID all that stuff as belonging to Nia? Nothing here of Esyllt’s?’
    Thomas shook his head. ‘No, it’s all Nia’s. I called around when you left the office. Can’t find any connection between the two girls. But,’ he shrugged, ‘early days.’
    Along the tunnel, yards beyond the drinkers’ den, Cat felt Thomas reach for her, felt his burly hand. He was shepherding her. A darker area appeared on the floor.
    They stopped and peered down the sudden drop. Thomas aimed a torch beam into the hole. The figure below looked like a crumpled white doll, a gash on her throat the only colour. Around her something was glimmering, shallow pools of water. Cat wanted to climb down and hold her and lay her arms along her sides, set her head straight so she looked at peace. But her training held her back.
    ‘The gash caused by the fall?’
    ‘There’s sharp ledges all the way down, she could’ve caught one, but we’ll have to wait for confirmation on that.’
    ‘Any drugs on the scene?’
    ‘Nothing found so far. We’ll know for sure when the tox report comes back.’
    Cat motioned back towards the mouth of the tunnel. ‘All that stuff. Looks like she was here for a while. If she came to do herself in, she thought about it plenty.’
    ‘We’ll probably never know what made her do it. These teen cases are a nightmare. Nine times out of ten there’s no clear answer.’
    ‘Her friend say anything? Boyfriend trouble? Exams?’
    Thomas shook his head. ‘Nothing like that. Just that she hadn’t been herself, wanted to be alone.’
    The last phrase was accompanied by a vampish Garbo accent. Cat looked hard at Thomas until his mouth twisted in a wry apology.
    ‘Well, you know how girls are at that age. They keep a lot to themselves. The slightest thing goes wrong and …’
    Thomas made a plosive sound with his lips.
    Cat closes her eyes. She is back in the train on the night that she and Martin celebrated her birthday. They are on their way home. She leaves her seat ten minutes out of the station. She makes her way to the space between their carriage and the next, pulls the window down, feels the icy air blowing her hair back, sucking the breath from her lungs. It is one of the old carriages, the door opening from inside. The next few seconds bring together clarity and confusion, her hand on the door handle followed by a bang as the momentum of the train pulls it out of her grip. She stands outside, between carriages, the train lights flashing past. Then looking down at the tracks, she wants to jump, into the alluring blur of the metal lines, into the irresistible feeling that she could keep on falling for ever and never hit the ground.
    Then ‘Cat! Cat!’ the shock as she is pulled back, Martin’s horrified voice shouting her name. She collapses onto the floor, her head on Martin’s shoulder. For what seemed hours she couldn’t look up, only stare at the ground. That was all she trusted herself to look at. Martin was kneeling on a discarded flyer, a second-hand furniture store advertising repossessed dining tables and chairs. She remembered that still. Then glancing up, the pallor of Martin’s face.
    Looking back, she wasn’t really sure why she had done it, tried to do it. She’d been picked on and abused before. It was nothing new. Why was that night different? Maybe she’d had an