In the distance, the rumble of a car engine disturbed the quiet country lane. She scrambled for a place to hide but the hedgerow was a solid wall on either side of the road. The car’s headlights brightened as it curved towards her.
Panicking, Allie dived into the hedge, ignoring the sharp branches digging into her sides. She pushed back until she could go no further and waited.
It could just be someone who lives around here, she told herself. It might not be a guard from Cimmeria.
But she still held her breath as the car growled past her, exhaling only when it sped on into the night.
They hadn’t seen her.
The darkness seemed heavier after that as she resumed her walk, plucking bits of dried twig from her hair.
Her whole body ached and the chill had permeated to her bones. To distract herself, she tried to imagine what Rachel was doing back at school right now.
Rachel was her best friend and an utter bookworm, so Allie was fairly certain she knew precisely what she’d be doing: her advanced chemistry homework. She’d be sitting in the library in a deep leather chair, her books spread around her in the glow of the desk lamp. Her glasses would be sliding down her nose and she’d be happily lost in complex formulas and diagrams.
At the image, Allie smiled to herself. But the smile faded quickly.
Will she forgive me for running away without telling her?
She shook her head to clear the thought away. It didn’t matter what anyone thought – even Rachel. This had to be done.
Jo’s killers had to be punished. And since nobody else was doing it, Allie would do it on her own.
FOUR
I
n the end she was right about the directions but wrong about the distance – it was much more than two miles. She could hardly feel her feet by the time she arrived in the town two hours later.
After the long walk on the dark road, the town’s bright streetlights were blinding and the traffic noise startling, but it wasn’t a particularly big place and Allie knew if she walked towards the centre eventually she’d find what she was looking for.
Sure enough, a few minutes later an old-fashioned wrought-iron sign pointed her to the train station. It was nearly empty – the next train wasn’t due for quite a while. The waiting room was locked tight, along with the ticket office, so she lowered herself on to a cold, metal bench on the platform and waited. The night air was freezing; her breath puffed out in little clouds and for a while she amused herself trying to make smoke rings of steam.
But that was only so much fun. And soon, shivering, she gave up, burrowing further into her coat, yanking the collar up to her ears.
She must have dozed off because the train woke her with a start as it roared into the station. The long red carriages were packed with well-dressed commuters coming home from a day in the office. Allie watched blankly as they hustled down the platform without even a glance in her direction, hurrying to their waiting cars, their warm homes and happy families.
She was so absorbed in watching them, wondering what it would be like to be them, she didn’t hear the boy sneaking up behind her.
‘Do you have permission to be here, miss?’
Jumping to her feet, she launched herself at him with such force she nearly bowled him over. Her hat flew off her head, landing on the platform a foot away.
‘Mark!’ She hugged him tightly, breathing in the faint but not unpleasant scent of cigarette smoke that always clung to his clothes.
He’d dyed the ends of his dark hair blue and mussed it into a swirl of black and blue; a tiny gold hoop earring peeked out through the tangles, matching the one in his eyebrow. While she’d been away his pimples had cleared up – he looked more grown-up. But his clothes were the same – tonight he wore torn jeans and a faded black T-shirt with ‘Revolution’ on it in mirror writing.
Clearly surprised by the force of her greeting, he hesitated briefly before hugging her back. ‘What the hell, Allie? What am I doing here in –’ he paused to watch the last commuters in suits and high heels make their way out of the station – ‘wherever the hell we are?’
At that moment she must have stepped into the glow of a security light, because she saw him notice the scar at her hairline – the doctors had shaved her temple to keep the wound clean. The hair was growing back but the jagged red line still stood out starkly.
He whistled admiringly. ‘That’s a nice scar. Who hit you?’
She grew serious. ‘It’s a long story, but it’s why I called you. I need your help.’
‘No kidding. You look like crap, Al.’ She saw him noticing with growing concern the circles under her eyes, her thinness and pallor. ‘What’ve they done to you?’
The station was empty now. Behind them, with a groan and a screech, the train began to depart. But Allie lowered her voice anyway.