‘Well, it doesn’t make much difference to me. As soon as we’re out of this forest, the chances of you and I running into each other again are pretty damned small, I reckon.’
‘I guess that’s true.’No one will be in a rush to get together and reminisce about this trip, Miles thinks. The fewer reminders, the better. ‘Where are you going to go?’
Faith takes a swig from a bottle of water. ‘Home. I’m not really in the mood for a holiday anymore.’
‘Same.’
She raises her bottle. In doing so, she closes the gap between them. ‘Here’s to travelling on to home.’
‘Cheers to that.’
They walk on in silence.
Miles hadn’t given any thought to getting home. And now, the moment he entertains the idea, he realises that home will not bring the same comfort that it will for Faith. He needs to brace himself for another ordeal. When the media finds out about this latestdevelopment, a new storm will be set in motion. It’ll be a gift for anyone peddling clickbait articles: another murder, connected to him. The public will eat it up. He imagines people rage-scrolling; thousands, if not millions, of hateful eyes poring over his image, and minds reaching for their between-the-lines conclusions about what’s happened. They’ll share their theories, discuss him with loathful tones and furious faces. At water coolers and bus stops and school gates.
He immediately feels guilty for these selfish thoughts, given what’s happened to Elis. His friend is dead. Murdered in the most awful of ways. But that doesn’t change the dismal fate that awaits Miles.
There needs to be compelling evidence against someone else for Elis’s murder. The police have to find out who did it. If they can’t, there remains the unignorable possibility that they will find a reason to accuse Miles. And then, his nightmare will begin all over again.
Chapter 50
George
It’s been about twenty minutes since Miles and Faith began their trek out of the forest. Reubyn and George have been stood at the front of the motorhome for thirty seconds or so, picking and prodding at the hatch with their fingers, trying to figure out how to open the panel to reveal the engine.
George scratches his head. ‘Reubyn, go have another look at the dashboard. This must open from the inside.’
Reubyn nods and heads back into the bus.
‘I don’t think that’s where the engine is,’ Jessie says. ‘It will be in the back.’
George glances over his shoulder at her. She’s stood a few yards behind him, her arms are folded, and her eyes are puffy and red. He turns his attention back to fiddling with the panel. George runs his fingers around its edge, trying to find a latch, and then, after about twenty seconds, it pings open by half an inch. Reubyn must have found some button or lever on the inside. George lifts the panel and reveals a space roughly the same size as a regular car boot. And it’s empty.
‘The engine must be somewhere else.’ He looks at Jessie. ‘Maybe we should try the back.’
She looks at him, deadpan. ‘Yeah, maybe we should try the back.’
They walk around the rear of the bus and find a larger hatch with a prominent lever. George grabs it and opens up the panel, revealing the engine. It doesn’t look massively different to what you’d find under the hood of a car, albeit on a larger scale. Along one side is a set of tools, different-sized wrenches neatly clipped into a line. Two of them are missing, he notices. Then his eye is drawn to the starter battery, and George immediately knows something is wrong. Very wrong.
‘The battery’s been tampered with,’ George says. He’s no mechanic, but even he can see that. The cable clamps have been disconnected from the battery terminals. And not only that; one of the cables has been cut clean through.
Reubyn and Jessie draw closer. From their faces, they’ve realised it, too. The motorhome hasn’t malfunctioned or run out of power. It’s been deliberately disabled. It’s been sabotaged.
Chapter 51
Miles
They’ve been walking for a good half an hour, now. Miles reckons it’ll only be another ten or fifteen minutes before they reach the gates to the reserve and get out on to the main road. Although that’s probably not the best way to describe the gravelly track that led them here. It’s not like any main road he’s used to, but it’s a highway of sorts and Miles will be glad to be on it. It’s not visible from here, though. The road he and Faith are walking has entered an area of denser trees and foliage. They remain vigilant, constantly looking in all directions, but their range of vision is more limited now that the vegetation is thicker. Miles is still confident there’s no one out there in the forest watching them, but the reduced visibility causes him to quicken his step. The thud of his boots echoes under the thick canopy overhead. He can also just about make out that odd noise he heard before dawn – that strange booming sound.
Miles stops for a moment. His increased pace means he’s gained a few yards on Faith. When she’s back in line with him, he hikes on and points to the phone in her hand. ‘Any signal yet?’ It’s been five minutes since she last tried, so it has to be worth another go.
She taps at her phone a few times and stares at the screen. Then she shakes her head. ‘Still nothing.’
They keep on, and Miles continues to pan all around. He tilts his head to look high and low, from the hanging branches to the gnarled undergrowth. The forest glistens, and shards of light flash overhead where the sun catches the wet leaves.
Miles stops. Movement in the bushes has grabbed his attention. He stands, frozen to the spot. A gasp would’ve just escaped his throat had he not clamped his larynx to suppress it. For a moment he thinks his eyes might be playing tricks on him – a consequence of sleep deprivation and stress.
‘Faith.’ He places a hand on her shoulder and whispers urgently as a wave of adrenaline rises through his body. ‘Don’t move a muscle.’
