‘This is …’ Simone says slowly, determined to say the right thing to Lucy, of acting with careful empathy for the traumatized brain, prone to irrationality.
‘This is a lot fucking smaller than I thought,’ Lucy agrees.
‘This place is tiny. How … how could you think it was huge?’ she asks, and it sounds like an accusation.
‘Well, sorry,’ Lucy says sharply, ‘for making a mistake.’
‘Population one hundred and eighty!’ Simone says. ‘That’s one hundred and eighty people that might hand us in.’
‘I’m sorry – I got it wrong.’
‘I mean,’ Simone says, ‘didn’t you google it?’
‘No,’ Lucy says, and Simone thinks again of the deleted history.
And the adrenaline and the ongoing poor sleep and terrible food and acute stress make Simone say it. ‘Did youwantus to be found before we have a chance to get advice and contact the police on our terms?’
Lucy’s reaction ought to be one of anger, but it isn’t. She blushes deeply, blood red, a tide of it creeping up her neck.‘Obviously not,’ she says tightly, sadly, and there’s something else there, too.
Simone stops. ‘What?’ she says softly.
‘What do you mean,what?’ Lucy snaps.
‘I mean, it would be OK if you felt that.’
‘I don’t want us to be found. I’m not fucking mental,’ Lucy says, toeing the ground. A pause, then the apology that always comes. ‘Sorry. I meant what I said. Get advice. Find the British man. And then tell the police. I thought Terlingua was bigger, that’s all.’
‘Why do you look so sad?’
Lucy flaps her arms around her. ‘Because,’ she says, ‘this.’ Her eyes to Simone’s. ‘I know you don’t believe in this plan.’
She isn’t wrong; Simone just didn’t realize she had guessed this. ‘I just … I don’t know if, when we find him, what we will … It feels a long shot, is all, to prove the kidnap. And we’re now so easy to find.’
‘Look, it’s fine. I should have googled it. I’m an idiot.’
‘We both are, then. I …’ Simone replies.
Lucy catches Simone’s eye finally. ‘If we do tell the police, what would I get?’
‘I don’t know,’ Simone says quietly.
‘Say if the kidnapperisin league with the police, the unknown guy I shot at, or your traffic cop. They could completely stitch us up.’
‘I know. Look, let’s … let’s talk about the lawyer, then the rest. We … let’s just get settled here without being seen.’ Simone looks around them. ‘Where is the place we’re staying?’
‘It’s a little out of the way,’ Lucy tells her. In the distance, between two houses, a horse meanders. It doesn’t have a rider, nor is it confined to any sort of paddock. Simone watches it. They have landed straight in a western. ‘God. When people from camp came here, I – I thought it was this huge, hugetown,’ Lucy says, then adds feebly: ‘They made it out to be. Maybe it is for around here.’
Simone thanks God the police think they’re in Houston; they must think nobody would be foolish enough to hide here. Maybe they’ve got time to get out of here.
‘Did the people from camp definitely come here?’ she asks and, suddenly, she lands on a fear so horrible, she can’t believe they missed it.
‘Yeah.’
‘The British man could easily know we’re in Terlingua,’ Simone says, panicking. ‘Does he know people at camp recommended it to you?’
‘No,’ Lucy says sharply, immediately. ‘He visited just once. I never even spoke to him.’
‘Who did people say he was?’
