Page 28 of Savage Obsession

“Oh no you won’t. I’m coming with you.”

I pause in reaching for my overnight bag. “I don’t think so.”

“I am. Get over it. I might be able to help.”

“Help? In what way?” I’ve never ever involved my family in my work and I have no intention of starting now. I choose to ignore the fact that the two are already inextricably entangled.

“I can handle a computer. Data analysis, that sort of thing.”

I give her a scornful snort. “I think we can manage.”

“I’m coming, and there’s an end to it.”

“You’ll do as you’re told.”

“Like fuck.” She grabs the car keys from the bedside table. “I need to go home, pack a few things. I can leave a note, in case Lily actually does come back…”

“Give me those keys.”

“Not a chance. And don’t even think about leaving without me. You’ve muscled in on all this uninvited, so now we’re in it together.”

“I work alone.”

“So do I, but I’m prepared to put up with you for Lily’s sake.”

“You called me,” I remind her.

“I must have been desperate. Wait here. I’ll be an hour, no more.”

Short of wrestling her to the bed and taking the keys from her by force, an idea I could warm to, now that I think about it, I’m out of options. I make up my mind.

“Wait. Wait for me to get my things together, then we’ll stop by your house on the way.”

“She stares at me, open-mouthed. “You mean, I can come?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really. What about Henry?”

I spare a glance for the scruffy terrier sitting patiently by the door. “I suppose he’ll have to come, too. Fuck, it’s going to be like Noah’s Ark.”

“Hardly. Right, hurry up. We need to get moving. How are we going to get there?”

“With a dog? By road and a couple of ferries. That can be your job, to plan the route.”

She immediately settles in with her laptop. “We’ll avoid Ukraine, obviously…”

Julia

I still can’t quite believe we’re doing this. My suitcase is in the boot. My passport is in the glove box, my dog in the back seat, and we’re headed for the border with Germany. The most direct route is through Germany to the Netherlands, then a car ferry from Amsterdam. Then we’d have a lengthy drive from southern England to the west of Scotland, and another ferry across to the Outer Hebrides. At that point we’d probably need to charter a boat as there is no commercial route to Caraksay itself. It’s a private island, well defended by the owner, Ethan Savage, who doesn’t take kindly to casual callers.

“I don’t understand. Why there?” I wonder as we weave our way through the historic streets of Poznan, a bustling university city to the west of Warsaw.

“We need access to all of Casey Savage’s IT equipment. She used to live there, and she never moved her gear.”

“What is it? Some sort of a lab?”

“Not sure. I suppose so.”

---