Say You're Sorry(111)
“Does DCI Drury know this?”
“I left him a message.”
“This is where they should be searching.”
“They won’t look now—not until after Christmas.”
I wake shivering.
I don’t know how long I’ve slept, but I can’t feel my feet or my toes. The blood has dried on my knees, but the scabs split when I bend and the wounds begin weeping again.
George said it was Christmas Eve. I dreamt that I could see my family around the table: Dad, Mum, Phoebe, Ben, Granddad and the little sister I haven’t met.
I slide on my stomach to the edge of the overhanging rock. The ground is wet and it seems colder now, cold enough to snow.
Climbing out of the crevice, I peer over the top of the rocks, studying the path. I can’t see George. Can’t hear him. The trees are like charcoal drawings above me.
I pick up the coat and brush off the leaves, putting my arms through the sleeves. It’s too long for me. I fold up the sleeves and put my hands deep in the pockets. It smells of George.
My fingers touch his mobile phone. I’m so surprised that I almost drop it. Two hands. I turn it over. Look for the power button. The screen lights up and welcomes me with music. There are no bars of signal. If I get higher, I might pick up a phone mast.
Scrambling up the embankment, I keep tripping over the hem of the coat. I have to hike it up and hold it under my arms, which makes it hard to climb because I can’t hold onto the trees.
When I reach the path, I crouch behind a rock, peering both ways. I can’t see him. I don’t want to go back the way I’ve come, so I keep following the path, away from the factory, looking for a road or a house or a car.
It’s raining and misty, but I can make out a trail that snakes between the trees. I’m climbing. That’s good. Maybe I’ll get a signal from higher ground.
Every few minutes, I stop and look at the phone, checking the signal. One bar blinks for a moment and then disappears. I wait. It flashes again. I scramble onto a rock and hold the phone above my head. A second bar of signal appears alongside the first. Wider. Stronger.
I dial 999. An operator answers.
“Hello, what service do you require, police, fire or ambulance?”
“Police. I need help.”
“Can I have your name please?”
“I’m Piper. He’s chasing me, please hurry.”
“Hold the line.”
A different voice answers this time. A woman.
“You’re through to the police. Can I have your name please?”
“I need you to come and get me. He’s going to kill me.”
“Please, tell me your name?”
“Piper Hadley.”
“Has there been an accident, Piper?”
“No. He’s coming, please help.”
“Who is coming?”
“I don’t know his name. This is his phone.”
“Where are you, Piper?”
“In a forest.”
“Whereabouts?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you’ve just wandered into nowhere?”
“I was kidnapped. I’ve managed to get away. You have to come quickly. He’s got Tash. I know he’ll punish her.”
“Who is Tash?”
“She’s my friend. We were kidnapped together.”
“What’s your friend’s name?”
“Natasha McBain.”
“You’re breaking up, Piper. Can you please repeat the name?”
“I said Natasha McBain.”
“Is this a hoax call?”
“What?”
“Do you know the penalty for making false emergency calls?”
“It’s not a hoax! It’s not!”
“There’s no need to yell, Piper. If you become abusive, I will terminate the call.”
“I’m not being abusive. I’m telling you the truth.”
“I’m going to need a better location. I need a street or a cross-street.”
“There are no streets.”
“I didn’t catch the name of the street.”
“There are none. I’m in a forest.”
“Where is the forest?”
“I don’t know.”
“The nearest road?”
“I don’t know.”
I feel myself beginning to cry. She doesn’t believe me. They’re not going to come. She tells me to hold. She’s getting her supervisor. Another woman comes on the line.
“OK, love, my name is Samantha, what’s yours?”
“Piper Hadley.”
“Where do you live, Piper?”
“I come from Bingham. It’s near Abingdon. Priory Corner. It’s called The Old Vicarage.”
“Listen, Piper, don’t get upset. Stay calm. We’re trying to trace the call. Do you know the name of the nearest town?”