Chapter Forty-Eight

KAT

I jump out of bed, flinging a hoody on over my pyjamas. I scrabble around for my contact lenses, and then opt for the rejected glasses in my haste. I catch sight of my face, once again unfamiliar in the frames. I throw my hair up and, collecting my keys and phone on the way past, run out of the door.

I jog up to the top of the road to wait for Rhys. I’d asked him to explain but he hung up. I consider calling work to see if there’s any news but decide to wait until he gets here. I have a feeling there’s something in this and I need to give it time.I hop from foot to foot, peeling my hair from my face, wondering if the weather is too hot for my hoody, then not really caring in the big scheme of things. I check my watch, my eyes searching out every new car that turns the corner. A black BMW pulls up, the passenger window rolls down. ‘Get in,’ says Rhys.

‘I was looking for your van,’ I say, buckling up and leaning forward to try and see them both.

‘This is James,’ Rhys introduces the driver. I look through the rear-view mirror at the man driving the car. His eyes flick to me as he says hello, but quickly return to focus on the road. Rhys turns around in his seat to face me. ‘He’s…’ He stops and looks at James, studying his face as though he has a million questions, but none he can speak out loud. There’s a strange atmosphere in the car, something unsaid. He looks back to me. ‘James thinks he knows where Susan might be.’ I stare at him. ‘Down there,’ he instructs him.

‘These roads have changed,’ says James.

‘Just keep going along here, you’ll pick the road back up in a minute, then it’s straight past the recycling centre and then the water tower.’ James nods his understanding. Rhys turns back to me. ‘They used to meet up at a little brick shack in Graves Park.’

‘Have you told the police?’ I ask. ‘Have they looked?’

‘I just got in the car with James and we came straight for you. We can get there and we can find her, Kat. Then we can call the police when we know she’s okay.’

‘We can’t do that, Rhys. That’s not… We have to call them now.’ I stare at them both, trying to work out the thought processes that led them to think this was okay. I pull my phone out of my pocket. ‘I’m calling them,’ I say, dialling the number. As the call connects, my battery dies. ‘No, no, no, no…’

We swing into a car park. ‘What?’ asks Rhys.

‘My phone, the battery died. Give me yours,’ I demand.

‘We’re here now, come on, we can call them in a minute.’ He leaps out of the car as I fumble with phone and keys and seat belt.