‘Trees. Just trees.’

‘Alright. Are you injured?’

‘No.’

‘And you mentioned there was a weapon involved, is that right?’

‘Yes, he’s got a knife.’

‘Okay. We’ve located your call and officers are on their way. What’s your name?’

I want to answer. I want to tell him my name. But I can’t. Because I’ve got sight of the clearing where Tom and I sat on the log a few minutes ago. I can see the log. I can see the rock. I can see the pool of blood. But I can’t see Tom.

56

I’m frozen to the spot. I have no idea where Tom is. There’s no sign of him. No sound. Nothing.

Has he run away? I didn’t hear him get up, didn’t have any indication he went in the same direction as me. If he was conscious enough to have got up a few seconds later, he must have been conscious enough to have noticed which direction I’d run in. He must have escaped. At the very least, that means he’s not after me. I hope.

But something tells me I shouldn’t be so sure. Tom’s clever. Manipulative. This is just his sort of game. Just the sort of thing he thrives on. If he can see me, scared out of my mind, panicking, he’ll be in his element.

He’ll want me dead. I know he will. But if he knows I’ve called the police there’s a greater chance he’ll have fled. He disappeared when Jess threatened him with her position, and he’s in even deeper shit now. There’s no way he’ll have risked sticking around, is there?

I can’t take any chances. I spot an opening in some bushes and I quietly manoeuvre myself inside them.

‘My name’s Grace,’ I whisper gently into the phone. ‘Grace O’Sullivan. My ex is Tom Ramsay. DI Jane McKenna knows everything. Please hurry, please.’

There’s no response from the other end of the phone. I take it away from my ear and look at the screen. Fuck. The signal’s gone again.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pull myself into a ball, praying to whatever god exists that they’ve taken me seriously, that the police are on their way.

I don’t know how long I sit there — time is the first of my senses to have disappeared — but after a short while the interminable silence and darkness is broken by a distant movement of light.

It takes me a few moments to work out what it is, but then it dawns on me. Flashing blue lights. The police. They’re here.

I move onto my knees and shuffle out of the bush as quietly as I can, my ankles frozen solid as I rise to my feet and make a run in the direction of the lights. If I can reach the police, I’ll be safe.

Every bone in my legs feels like it’s about to snap, my muscles tight with the freezing cold, but I’m running, heading for the flashing blue lights. Heading for freedom.