‘Look, now’s not a good time. I’m late for a meeting.’
‘Even just fifteen minutes.’
‘I really can’t talk—’
‘When is a good time?’
Adrian pulled at his tie, loosening it a little, and glanced towards the building.
‘Please? Even just a phone call would be fine.’
He got his phone out of the side pocket of his laptop bag. ‘Possibly this afternoon,’ he said, looking at his calendar. ‘I have a window at three.’
Damn. That was when she was meeting Chris. She couldn’t risk rescheduling that. ‘Sorry, I can’t do three. What about later this afternoon?’
He shook his head.
‘Please?’ She winced at the pleading tone in her voice.
He hesitated. ‘Tomorrow morning?’
‘Great! Fantastic. Thank you.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘Hartwell, but I’m happy to come down here.’
He shook his head. ‘No, that’s fine. I’ll meet you at the service station on the road from Hartwell. There’s a coffee shop and a few tables in there. It’s always empty.’
‘Okay,’ Meg said slowly. She’d stopped there yesterday to fill up her tank. It seemed like a weird place to meet.
‘Eight thirty okay?’
Meg nodded. ‘Sure.’
He gave her a brusque nod. She was about to ask for his mobile number when he said, ‘I’ve really got to go now,’ and hurried away.
She watched him walk towards the building. Had he seemed nervous? It was hard to say without any benchmark to go on. Maybe he was always a little flustered, a little awkward. But a roadhouse on a backroad did seem like an odd place to meet. It seemed like the kind of place you’d choose if you were hoping no one would see you.
Chapter 16
A skinny body, slumped and still. An ear-splitting siren piercing the dark night as blue light flashed on the slick wet road. Her own voice then, thin and reedy.
‘Stella? Stella!’
Issy stirred. Stella? She was half-awake now, aware she was stuck in a dream but still under its dark spell.
Stella. She hadn’t thought of her for years. Her old school friend had moved away after the accident and their paths had never crossed since. Where evenwasshe these days? Last Issy heard, Stella was living in Port Macquarie with her parents, but that was ages ago.
It didn’t matter.
She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the sense of panic which lingered, tightening her chest, leaving a heavy feeling in her stomach. Her neck hurt. She put a hand up to the sore spot, pressing it, enjoying the pain, as the last fragments of the dream fell away.
She opened her eyes a little, giving up on sleep. A large, over-exposed print hung on the wall by the bed where there was meant to be a window; a generic beach track. Suddenly, she was wide awake. She sat up, looking around the foreign bedroom. Of course! She was in Hartwell, in the ridiculous display apartment where nothing worked.
She yawned and rubbed her face. It was after one o’clock when she’d finally gone to bed. She’d spent hours reading project documents, studying the timeline, poring over site plans, trying to work out how they could meet the launch deadline. There was a loud growl from her stomach and she realised she was ravenous. Dinner last night was a protein bar she’d found in her bag and the rest of the wine. She needed to find some breakfast. Where though? She couldn’t go back to the Apple Tree, for obvious reasons. She shuddered. All those eyes on her!
She reached for her phone, self-hatred rippling through her at the sight of the cracked screen, and typed a message.
