Page 119 of Corpse Roads

One blink and she’s gone. I’m left staring at an unfamiliar face. Mine. I’ve managed to put on a few pounds, but my face is still too thin. Pale. Shadowed. Broken. The little girl they remember is dead.

Another thick scar peeks out the collar of my linen shirt. It’s fresher than the others, stretching all the way down to my ribcage, twisted and puckered.

When Adelaide and her unborn baby died, the final piece of me broke. That’s when I gave up on ever escaping my cage. I stopped fighting, stopped caring, stopped breathing.

All while Giana lived.

It isn’t fair.

Unable to suck in a breath, I search for an escape on instinct. I can’t go back in there and pretend everything’s okay. Opening the small window, I stand on the toilet to climb through it.

You did this, bitch!

It’s your fault that baby is dead.

You didn’t pray hard enough, you filthy sinner.

My feet hit the lawn and I break into a run without thinking about the people I’m leaving behind. I’m back in that church graveyard, the stretch of desolate woodland ahead of me.

Run, Harlow.

Before it’s too late.

Nowhere is safe for you.

Time has rewound. I have to run for my life again. My surroundings pass in a blur, reality drags to a halt and I leave the ruins of Leticia’s life behind.

All I’ve got left is Harlow. The splintered fragments of a person that nobody could ever love. Not even Hunter. They’re better off without me here.

CHAPTER 22

THEO

WON’T STAND DOWN - MUSE

From the private helicopter, I should have the perfect view of the shoreline that carves the expanse of Devon. Croyde in particular is deserted, whipped by wind and snow, obscuring anything from sight.

If Harlow’s down there, she’ll be dead from hypothermia by morning. After spending the past two months staying as far away from her as possible, I’m no better than the others.

I’ve grown close to the idea of her. This case has consumed my whole life for so long, and I’ve poured more into it than I realised. Harlow has dominated my thoughts every night for months, demanding justice.

“This is a waste of time,” Hudson says into his headset. “We can’t see shit up here. I doubt she’s still in the area.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His crystal-clear blue eyes meet mine. “She’s been gone for twelve hours. We both know the statistics. We’re running out of time.”

Hudson couldn’t mince his words, even if he tried. The guy’s a walking offence to civilised society. He’s exactly the person we need to cut through the bullshit of organising a wide-scale search party.

“You think he’s found her?” he asks gruffly.

I shake my head. “She ran. This is something else. But if we don’t find her soon, that sicko may very well take advantage of this opportunity and snatch her again.”

“She could be hiding out somewhere. That buys us some time.” He scans the misty skyline. “I just have a bad feeling.”

“We should have divers looking in the sea.”

“Huh?”

---