‘But then you wouldn’t be here with me,’ he said. His eyelids were starting to droop. ‘I might need a little nap. Shall we go to the cabin now?’
She glanced up at the digital display, telling them which station they were due to stop at next.
‘Maybe one more drink?’
‘OK . . .’
He fell asleep before he finished it. The crushed-up Valium had started to work after the second drink, but she thought it would make it look more obvious to the woman behind the bar if he’d sunk four large gins before passing out.
His head fell to the window, his shoulders dropped. He snorted a couple of times, then seemed to settle.
The Tannoy announcements were off, because people were sleeping. Part of her wanted to go along to the cabin and climb into bed. She could probably sleep for a week, if she gave into it. But she was so close now. She couldn’t lose sight of the plan. She’d lost count of which plan this was now. B? C? D?
Or maybe it had always been A – just with a few variations along the way.
She watched Frank as the train slowed and the station sign appeared on the platform.
Karlsruhe. She’d no idea what was there, but she knew there was a connection to Munich. Frank might be going to Berlin to start his new life with his new name, but she wasn’t going with him.
She reached up and pulled down her bag. Nodding at the woman behind the bar, saying a silent thank you as she left. A quiet understanding passing between the two women. The woman had not commented on Cat’s injuries, but she couldn’t have failed to notice them, despite the baseball cap and the long sleeves.
The train stopped and Cat climbed down on to the platform. She waited for a few minutes, until it pulled away. No one was getting on at this stop. No one else was getting off. As the restaurant carriage passed, she saw Frank’s head against the window. He was sound asleep. Completely out of it. He probably wouldn’t wake until he reached Berlin – and by then she would be long gone.
She pulled out the handle of her bag and flipped out the wheels. Then she reached into her pocket and took out the mini-Maglite torch.
Epic Solutions.
The woman at the trade fair in Ascot had been so impressed with Cat’s skills, organising such a complex event – she’d offered her a job on the spot. She had many companies, she’d said. Her headquarters were in Munich. Cat turned the torch over in her fingers, smiling at the email address on the back. She had contacted the woman a couple of months ago, asked if it was a genuine job offer. Explained that she needed to get away . . . and that she might have to change her name. The woman had understood. She’d said she had big plans. Couldn’t wait to work with her.
She remembered Tristan, in her bed, at the end of that long working day. His offer to help her with her problems. Help her sort things out. A plan, he’d said. But she already had a plan.
She had always been very good at making plans.
Cat walked across the quiet concourse, looking for her platform. Another connecting train, and a little while to wait first. Luckily there was a café open, and she went in and ordered herself a peppermint tea.
She really wanted a proper drink. She would’ve loved a gin on the train. But she couldn’t risk it. Not until she did a test. She laid a hand on her stomach, wondering if there was a little life inside there, a tiny bean, already starting to grow shoots and form itself into a little human. She would do a test in Munich. And she would tell her new boss straight away. This didn’t have to be a blocker to her new life. In fact, it might even enhance it.
Another slight change of plan, perhaps. But certainly nothing she couldn’t deal with. She sipped her tea, inhaling the minty steam. Glanced up at the departures board.
Not long now, until her brand-new life was ready to begin.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The idea for this book was sparked during a real-life hike on the trail described in this novel. It was while I was standing on the scary steep ridge, too tired to carry on, trying not to look down into the valley for fear that I would tumble to my death, when one of my companions said, ‘Look, isn’t that a red kite?’ and I looked on in awe as the incredible bird hovered there, while wondering to myself – what if one of us fell right now? And the inevitable afterthought . . . what if one of us was pushed?
Haha! Luckily none of us fell or were pushed, and we miraculously did make it back before the hot tub closed for the night. Moral of the story: never go to dangerous places with a crime writer.
Thank you as always, to my brilliant agent Phil Patterson. I pray every day that he doesn’t become a victim of friendly fire while out walking his dog near the rifle range because I really do need him.