“Have they seen you?”
“Don’t think so. I’m one car back; we’re heading west now. Steady as you like, doesn’t seem to be in any hurry.”
She narrates the journey as she goes, passing the Admiral Rodney pub on her right before a left turn onto Russell Drive into light traffic. A main street on a quiet weekday evening, then over a railway bridge and up to more traffic lights at a junction.
“Turning right onto Glaisdale Drive,” she says. For a long moment there is only the clicking of her indicator. “OK, now we’re going northeast, back toward Beechdale. Bit quieter here.”
“Keep your distance,” I say.
“Uh-huh. I’m going to try taking a picture of the number plate.” After a moment, she adds: “Ah, crap. Need to be closer.”
“What’s happening?”
“Turning right again now, looks like some kind of industrial estate. Just going to check if the AirTag is showing on the app.”
Dom and I both lean nearer the phone, willing her to break a long moment of silence.
“Jess?”
“Err, OK, yup, it looks like the app is working; it’s showing a location.”
“What’s the Volvo doing now?”
“He… ahh, sugar. Must have turned off into one of these little side roads while I was looking at my phone. It’s all warehouses and industrial units here.” She curses. “Where the hell did they go?”
“Be careful, love.”
“It’s a dead end here. It all goes up to the railway line,” she says. “I’m going to turn around and retrace my steps; it must have pulled in somewhere.”
Dom leans toward the phone’s speaker. “Why don’t you just leave it now, sis? We have the AirTag; you’ve done what you needed to do. Come back now.”
There is a long pause.
“Got him,” she says, almost to herself. “How the hell did he get that far ahead?”
“Don’t take any more risks, Jess—you’ve done enough.”
“He’s stopped at a junction. All right, he’s just moving away on a green light now; reckon I can catch up to him and get a picture of his number plate before it goes red again.”
The engine tone in the background rises higher as she accelerates to catch up to the Volvo—
Suddenly overlaid by the roar of another engine revving loud, a piercing screech of brakes almost blotting out my wife’s panicked voice.
“Oh crap—”
A thundering crash of metal against metal.
Then nothing.
55
The minute before the call reconnects is the longest of my life.
The first call to Jess’s phone goes to voicemail. And the second.
I can’t look at Dom.
Heart in my mouth, I dial her number again and whisper a silent prayer for her to pick up, to be all right, just to say something to tell me she’s still there. The weight of guilt presses down on me like a boulder.
