My boot sinks into the ground, the merciless cold sinking its fingers beneath the neck of my hoodie. “Wait here.”
Then I clutch my pen knife in my fist and push the car door shut.
Chapter 16
OPHELIA
Walking away from Belladonna feels like an awful idea, but I can’t drag her into this any further than I already have. This is my mess.
The short walk to the trees feels like a marathon. So much time to overthink, so much time for my heart to accelerate into a rapid rhythm. Each whisper of the wind in my ear or bare branch reaching out for my legs has me spinning around to face a person who isn’t there.
By the time I reach the abandoned Golf, I can barely make out Belladonna’s vehicle behind me.
I glance around, the world silent enough that my breaths are deafening and my footsteps sound like they could be heard for miles around. I dare to turn on my phone flashlight, peering through the yellowing windows. The car is filthy, inside and out. The driver’s seat is empty, passenger seat covered in empty water bottles and food wrappers. The small back seat has a stained pillow and a blanket.
Whoever is here, they’re living in this car.
The coordinates I was sent lead into the mass of pines in front of me, but when I scan the tree line, there’s no trace of anyone or anything.
I pace around the vehicle, knife clutched between my clammy fingers. I can’t find any clue in the car, but my eyes land on the license plate, so thick with dirt that it’s almost unreadable.
I take out my phone and cringe at the brightness of the screen, scrambling to turn it down before I’m seen. I half expect Mack’s tech guy not to pick up, but he does. God knows what time it is wherever he is.
“Brendan?” I whisper, so quiet I can barely hear myself. I glance over both shoulders, crouching down to hide behind the car. “It’s Ophelia. If I give you some plates, can you tell me who’s driving a car?”
He must notice the fear in my voice, because he doesn’t ask me why I need it. “What country is the car from?”
“The UK.”
I hear a drawer open and shut on the other end of the phone, then the sound of him typing. “Why are you in the middle of nowhere?”
I look beneath the car and at the cluster of trees beyond, finding no one. “It’s a long story.”
He sighs. “Tell me the plates.”
“MG01 ARJ.”
“Hold on.”
Somewhere in the trees, a twig snaps. Panic cuts through me. I can hear Brendan muttering under his breath, like he’s having trouble on his end. “Um, how long until you get a match?”
“Are you in danger?”
I suppose now’s not the time to sugarcoat the truth. “I think so.”
“Who does the car belong to? The person sending the texts?”
I look down beneath the car again, watching the tree line like a hawk. “Yeah.”
“Ophelia, get out of there and leave it to us.”
“I’ve been leaving it to you guys for months. I can’t just sit around and wait for someone to kill Alex.”
“Okay, well, let me know who the stalker is, if you survive. The car has an expired MOT. It isn’t taxed, either. It’s likely stolen.”
I curse in frustration, keeping him on the line as I pace over to a small, round shrub, watching, waiting for anyone to appear. No one does.
It leaves me no choice but to head over to the trees, wincing at every twig and leaf that crunches beneath my Doc Martens. My teeth chatter together on an exhale as I’m plunged into complete and total darkness. Brendan’s steady breathing and typing on the line are the only things keeping me company.
