“I need you to stay calm,” says the voice on the phone. “We are on the way, but we need a location. Can you tell me anything more about where you are? What can you see?”
I blink away my tears and peer into the darkness again, but there is nothing except the woods. I can’t tell them exactly where I am, because I don’t know. I wipe my face with the sleeve of my jacket, then I turn and see something else.
She is standing right behind me, dressed in white.
Him
Thursday 01:30
“Anna hung up,” says Priya.
“What? Where is she? What did she say?” I ask, driving as fast as I dare on dark country lanes in the middle of the night.
We’ve taken Zoe’s car. I feel more comfortable being behind the wheel, and I still don’t trust Priya. She grabbed my phone as soon as it started ringing, as though she didn’t want me to answer it. Although that could have something to do with my speed—she’s checked her seat belt several times.
“Anna mentioned the woods,” she says, holding on to the side of the car as I take another bend more quickly than I should.
“Great, that’s a big help in a town surrounded by trees,” I snap.
“I’m just telling you what she said.”
“Was it definitely her?”
“Yes.”
“Call the tech team, get them to triangulate the signal from her phone right now. Then call Anna back.”
Priya does as I ask, but I can only hear one side of the conversation she is having with someone at HQ. Her tone changes toward the end of the call.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I ask when she hangs up, but she doesn’t answer.
I take my eyes off the road for just a second to look at her, and when I turn back, there is a stag standing directly in front of us. The deer’s eyes shine in the headlights, its enormous horns look lethal, and it doesn’t move. I hit the brake and only just manage to swerve in time to avoid hitting him. Seconds later we smash into an old oak tree instead.
For a moment, I think I am dead.
“Jesus Christ,” says Priya, reaching for the back of her neck as though in pain.
“I’m sorry,” I say, mentally checking myself for injuries, but finding none.
My chest hurts, and I’m still gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles look as though they might burst through my skin. I notice the deer has disappeared.
“It’s okay, I’m still in one piece, are you?” Priya asks.
“I think so.”
She leans down into the footwell. At first, I think she might be about to vomit, but she picks up her phone, and dials Anna’s number. I decide that I was wrong not to trust her; she is trying to help me. Even now, when I almost killed us both.
“Anna’s mobile is going straight to voicemail again,” she says. “Maybe her battery died, or she lost signal—”
“Or someone turned it off,” I say, finishing her sentence.
“The good news is, according to Google Maps, Catherine Kelly’s old house is five minutes away on foot.”
She unfastens her seat belt and feels the back of her neck again.
“Are you sure you’re okay to walk?” I ask.
“Guess we’ll find out.”
We abandon the car, which seems wise given the dented hood and flashing warning lights on the dashboard. I don’t even take the keys or bother closing the door; it feels like there is no time to waste. Priya is surprisingly fast. She navigates a path for us between the black branches of ancient trees, running ahead, almost as though she has been here before and knows the way. My chest hurts every time I breathe in. I slammed into the steering wheel when we crashed, and I suspect I may have cracked a rib. The volume of my wheezing, labored breaths seems to increase with every step.
Priya stops just ahead of me.
“Did you hear that?” she whispers.
“What?”
“Sounded like someone running in the opposite direction.”
She stands a little straighter, her body poised and perfectly still, like the startled deer we saw a few minutes ago. But her head reminds me more of an owl’s, turning slowly from side to side as her big brown eyes blink into the gloom. I don’t hear anything, except the normal sounds of the woods at night, but I remember Priya is a city girl.
“It’s okay,” I say, trying to reassure her. “It was probably just another animal. We should carry on.”
She reaches inside her jacket, pulls out a gun, and flicks the safety catch.
“Whoa!” I say, taking a step back. While I’m aware that some of my colleagues think all police should carry guns in the UK, personally, I’m glad we don’t. I’ve never worked in a firearms unit, and neither has Priya. “Why do you have that?” I ask.