We drove along the country lanes of rural South West England. Spring had just arrived, bringing in the sweet smell of the Sea. Budding was visible, which promised an early display of flowers. The blue sky enhanced the feeling of serenity. We had just spent a few days away from our home near London, and I knew we were both sad to leave this behind. It would have been nice to linger on, but work demanded us to go home.

It had been some glorious days. We had pitched our tent just outside the village, which had not been a bad idea considering the weather. It had turned out to be perfect. The local pub was a gem. We'd had a pub grub or two. The evenings had been spent in local restaurants that had impressed us with some unusually good food.

My husband was speeding down the country lane, totally ignoring the danger of any oncoming traffic. I had become used to it by now. All the British did it, not paying heed to the dangers of any other traffic on the narrow lanes.
So here we were heading towards home, when I suddenly saw the man in front of us, appearing from nowhere. I just registered his uniform, realising this was the police. My husband carried on as if he had never seen him. We sped towards the figure, and I shouted 'STOP! YOU ARE GOING TO RUN HIM OVER!'

My husband braked and came to a full stop. He looked quite startled, from what I presumed was his reaction to almost knocking over a police officer! I was still shaking from the shock, when my husband rolled down the window, the police officer leaning in with a friendly gaze.

We were then asked where we were going, while he apologised that he'd had to stop us. A murder had been committed in the area and they were looking for any witnesses, and whether we could help them in any way. Would we mind if he searched our car, and of course we didn't.

When that was done, we asked him when the murder had taken place. He was surprisingly forthcoming telling us that they thought it had happened in the afternoon the day before. A young female had been found on a lane along the ridge which caressed the sea. She had been due to work her shift at the local hotel a couple of hours later, but had never turned up. The alarm had been raised not long after, as she was a very reliable employee.

This was all we were told. They were obviously looking for suspects and witnesses.

We drove on for a little while. I was quite shocked. This was not something you come across every day. More so in a rural place like this. I looked at my husband and he looked as pensive as I felt. I thought about yesterday. What we had actually been doing. I thought back, and turned quite abruptly towards him.

"Please stop; we need to go back. Do you know, I think we might have seen this young woman yesterday!" That got the attention from him. He stopped the car and looked at me questionably. "Do you remember yesterday when we were walking along the path on the hill facing the sea?" I looked at him, his gaze now quite startled.
"My word, I think you are right. If that was really her, we could be the last persons who have actually seen her alive. You are right, we need to go back and report this to the police immediately"
We went back and reported to the Police what we had observed. They thanked us very politely, wrote down everything and after signing our statement we were on the road again. We never heard another word.

It was only a couple of weeks later when we read in the newspaper that the killer had been found. He was discovered hanging from a tree leaving a confession behind. He had been a vagrant.

What a sad and tragic way of a young woman to have her life cut short.