Page 35 of Savage Obsession

“We’ll swap over at the next service area.”

We make excellent time and cross the border into the Netherlands a good three hours before the ferry departure time. “We’ve time to stop for a meal if you like,” I suggest. Our sandwiches were palatable enough but boring.

“I’m fine. Shall we find somewhere nearer the port?”

I’m back behind the wheel having slept for a couple of hours so I’m good to carry on. I nod, and we fall silent again, each of us mulling over our own thoughts. It’s a companionable silence, apart from the fact that we’re both sick with worry over our missing daughter. There’s been no contact from her since she disappeared.

Julia checks her phone for the millionth time. “Do you suppose she’s all right?” she wonders aloud. “Why doesn’t she phone me?”

“No signal, probably. Or her phone’s dead.” I prefer not to entertain any thoughts of possible alternative, more sinister, reasons.

“That’s what Gerek said.”

I grunt, not able to actually bring myself to agree with the dipshit. “We’re about an hour from the Hook of Holland. What food do you fancy?”

We drop in on an international diner at the ferry port itself and share a rather fine TexMex platter. They turn a blind eye to Henry under the table, so I manage to drop him some pieces of chicken wing and a decent share of the garlic bread. Soon, it’s time to board.

I mentally kick myself when the steward asks to see Henry’s pet passport. The British are obsessive about such formalities, but it never occurred to me.

“I have it here,” Julia says, retrieving the necessary document from her bag. “From when we went to Austria last year.”

She forgot to pick up food and a bowl for him but remembered his passport! Amazing.

“It’s about a six-and-half-hour voyage to England,” Julia tells me, consulting her paperwork. We’re leaning on the rail, watching the coastline of mainland Europe disappear into the dusk. “Shall we get some proper sleep?”

Traveling is exhausting. We’re both shattered. Only Henry seems full of beans as he trots up and down the deck as far as his leash will allow, sniffing with interest at every bench and coil of rope.

“Suits me.” I sling an arm over her shoulders, and only later does it occur to me that the gesture came so naturally.

Our cabin is tiny, just enough room for a double bunk, a toilet with a postage-stamp-sized shower, and what passes as a wardrobe but would be better described as a bathroom cupboard.

Julia looks around in dismay. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get us a room with a porthole, but we booked at short notice, and this is all they had left.”

“It’s fine.” I’ve slept in far less hospitable surroundings. I’m already shedding my clothes.

“We’ll have to share the bed,” she observes. “There’s no couch or anything.”

I see no problem with the arrangement. “Do you want the bathroom first?”

She nods and disappears into the minuscule facilities. The sound of tooth brushing and running water fills the cabin, followed by the flush of the toilet. By the time she emerges I’m already lounging on the bed in my boxers.

“It’s all yours.” She tips her head towards the bathroom door.

I make short work of completing the necessary tasks and return to find her tucked up in the bunk. She’s wearing some sort of ratty t-shirt and a nervous smile.

“There’s not much room. I thought if we?—”

She falls silent when I pull back the blanket to reveal her well-worn sleep shorts. “You dressed to impress, I see.”

“I never expected to need sexy lingerie,” she explains defensively.

“You don’t. You don’t need anything. Lose the kit.”

“Could you be just a little less slushy and romantic?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Naked. Now.”

She ceases her protests and does as I ask, but without the reckless abandon of the previous night. She sits, knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around her thighs, looking at me like a rabbit in headlights. “What now?”

---