‘So, you think this is the person who tried to run us over?’ she asks quietly.
Her house is so close – she is almost at the wall that encloses the front garden. Surely she can get there without having to deal with this stranger.
‘I think she tried to run you over – and got me instead. Ironically.’
The woman takes a step forward. Then two. If Georgia doesn’t make a dash for it soon she will never make it in time; she is going to have to confront this woman.
‘Sophia?’ Georgia says uncertainly, stopping in the road.
‘What?’ Sophia’s tone is wary, she has picked up something in Georgia’s voice.
‘Do you think that woman is dangerous?’
‘Yes, Georgia, she rammed her car into me. That’s pretty fucking dangerous.’
‘Well, I’m walking towards my house, and there’s a woman watching me – she just got out of a white car. Do you think it’s her?’
The woman takes a few more steps, speeding up. Her face is blank. Determined.
‘Oh god, I don’t know!’ Sophia sounds panicked.
‘Sophia, what do I do?’
‘Are you on your own?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then run!’
There is no time to end the call. The woman is almost at the garden gate. Georgia doesn’t wait. She dashes for the cover of the woods, careening onto the muddy path once more. She continues at full speed for a hundred metres then looks around, hoping the woman won’t have followed, but she can hear jogging footsteps and then a high-pitched voice shrieks, ‘Stop, Georgia! I need to talk to you.’
The words jolt Georgia back into a run, but her phone slips from her grasp and disappears into a puddle with a plop. She curses and plucks it out, no time to check it, only to get further into the forest where she’ll be safe.
Ordinarily she would be confident in her sprinting ability, but her muscles are already screaming from the race, and before long she is reduced to a hobble. She swings around, eyes never straying from the path, straining to hear footsteps, but her own breathing is so loud in her ears she can’t make out anything else. A breeze blows from behind her, like icy breath on her neck, and she turns slowly in circles. Ten metres beyond her in each direction, the path bends out of sight. If someone is lurking, they could charge and be on her in seconds.
Trees and branches leer in. Each rustle becomes a whisper. There is a gurgling sound nearby, like a person struggling for breath. She tells herself it’s a small waterfall, but she doesn’t recall anything like that near here.
She bends double for a moment, trying to draw in oxygen, and when she straightens up the forest is spinning. There is no option except to hide, but she doesn’t dare take her eyes off the track. She staggers backwards until she is on thick grass, and her foot finds a divot as the ground slopes away. Suddenly she has lost her balance, flailing at nothing. She lands hard, jarring her back, her head cracking against something sharp. She sits up slowly as the back of her skull begins to throb, and she turns around to see a dark grey rock squatting in the grass, its surface a mass of jagged edges. Confused, she touches the back of her head, and the pain is such a surprise that she yells out and pulls her hand away. She smells hot metal and glances down to see her palm is a sodden mixture of dirt and her own bright crimson blood.
35
ANYA
As I watch Callum racing up the hill, there’s an almighty pressure building in my brain. I’m close to hyperventilating as I turn to the officials. There is already a flurry of activity, people leaning over paperwork, running pens down the sides of lists. I hear a familiar name mentioned, and freeze.
‘What did you just say?’ I ask Jimmy.
‘The sports teacher – Leo Freeman – was the last to see her. He’s helping the search now.’
I dash around to the marshals’ tent so I can see the list of officials and their numbers. There it is in black and white: Leo Freeman manned the penultimate checkpoint. This can’t be coincidence, surely.
His mobile number is written next to his name. I key it into my phone and dial.
It goes to voicemail. I want to yell, What the hell have you done to Georgia? It takes all my strength to restrain myself. ‘Leo, it’s Anya Turner. Did you see Georgia at your checkpoint? She’s not come back down the hill.’ Something about this still doesn’t make sense, but I don’t want to let him off the hook. ‘You’ve got some explaining to do,’ I hiss, before I hang up.
I am taking deep breaths, trying to calm myself, when I catch sight of Danny Atherton coming towards us. I skirt around the table and pounce on him. ‘I saw you arguing with Georgia before the race. What was all that about? Tell me the truth, Danny, I need to know right now.’