She opened her eyes. She was still in the car, wedged in behind the seats. Her hands were still cuffed, although her right arm was twisted, her elbow caught between the corner of the front seat and the frame of the car.

Which was the cause of the pain in her shoulder; her elbow was pulling it away from her body.

She lifted her arm an inch, intending to bring it closer to her ribs and relieve the agony, but a sharp, searing, unbelievable pain ripped through her shoulder.

It felt like the tissues and muscles and ligaments in her shoulder were being torn apart, and it fucking hurt.

She let out a groan, the gag still in her mouth, then used her left arm to try and lever herself up a few inches. She had to do something to lessen the pressure in her shoulder.

It worked, a little, but now she was leaning on her good arm, which she would not be able to do for long. She turned so that her weight was on her hips, and screamed – with the gag it came out as a kind of grunt – as her right arm did not follow.

Bones in her shoulder moved. She felt the top of her arm press against her ribs.

Which should not be happening. Her shoulder was not in the place it was supposed to be.

She twisted her head and looked up. The back of the kidnapper’s hooded head was visible.

‘My arm,’ she tried to say. ‘It’s broken.’

All that came out was unintelligible garbage.

The head tilted and turned. The face was hidden under the hood.

‘Help,’ she said. ‘Help me.’

There was no response.

Beneath her the chassis of the car hummed. It felt like they were moving quickly. She glanced at the window. Overhead lights passed by at short, regular intervals.

They were on the motorway.

Which meant the drone could not keep up with them. Their plan had assumed they would stay on back roads, but the kidnapper had gone on the motorway after all.

Which meant she was on her own.

Although maybe not. If Matt knew the drone would lose them, he would call the police, and the police would know which motorway they were on, and could find her. Block the exits. Anything.

That was what Rob had said. He had said motorways aren’t safe. Not enough ways off. It’s easy to apprehend someone on a motorway.

So even though the drone would have lost them, it was good they were on a motorway.

But she was still shoved in the back of her car, her shoulder in pieces. A thudding panic joined the pain and the edges of her vision darkened.

The world began to swim. She felt herself slipping away. She let herself; it was blessed relief.

Matt

On the screen he watched the car pull onto the M56.

‘Shit,’ Matt said. ‘They’re going on the motorway.’