Beyond Fear Read Free Page B

whisper in the silent night, grew to a rumble then the bush beyond the bend glowed.
    ‘Thank God,’ Corrine said.
    Headlights speared the darkness and a moment later a car careered around the bend. It was going the wrong way to be coming from Bald Hill but maybe the cab hadn’t started there. Corrine slung her handbag over a shoulder, picked up a suitcase and stood like she was waiting for the bus. Jodie walked towards the road, moving the torch from side to side in a wide arc, letting the cabbie know he’d found them.
    The car was almost on her before she realised it wasn’t the cab. No telltale taxi light on top, no attempt to slow down. She squinted in the glare of the headlights, glanced a shadowy, lone driver at the wheel as it rushed past, then watched until its red tail-lights disappeared over the hill.
    ‘Shit,’ Corrine said. Something hit the gravel. Jodie guessed it was the bag, hoped Corrine hadn’t slumped to the ground in a sulk.

    Jodie stepped onto the smooth surface of the road and stood in the centre, torch still pointed at the corner. ‘Shit.’ After the blaze of light, the dark seemed even more oppressive. She didn’t like it. Or the way it made her heart hammer inside her chest. ‘What time is it?’
    The blue light appeared. ‘Seven-forty.’
    ‘I’m going to call.’ Jodie walked back, took Hannah’s phone, crossed the road and had a shoulder pressed into the bush on the other side before one reception bar lit up. She dialled the number the tow truck driver had given her and watched the torchlight dim a little as she listened to the ringtone switch to the cabbie’s message bank. She left a polite message – we’re here, we’re waiting, be great to see you soon. She phoned Louise then the truck driver. No answer on both counts.
    By the time she reached Corrine, the torch beam looked like it’d been connected to a dimmer and turned to low. She flicked it off, sucking in a breath at the sudden blackness. ‘Bloody hell, I can’t see a thing.’
    Corrine was silent for a moment. ‘I can make out the top of the trees against the sky.’
    Jodie lifted her eyes, saw shadows materialise as her vision adjusted to the dark – the ragged edge of treetops silhouetted against a starless dome of sky, the looming, solid mass of a gum tree, the white roadside markers. She sensed again the darkness at her back, wanted to turn around, check they were alone. Don’t be paranoid, Jodie. You’re past that. She pushed her hands into her pockets. ‘I can see the white lines on the road, too.’
    ‘I can see you. Your face but not your hair.’
    ‘Your hair looks like a puff of steam.’

    ‘Thanks for that.’
    ‘Any time.’
    ‘Christ, it’s cold.’
    Corrine shuffled her feet again. Jodie repositioned her weight from one frozen foot to the other, blew on her hands, hitched at the collar of her jacket. It was so quiet, she could hear her pulse thud softly inside her head. Icy tentacles of wind played across her face, rustled the bush behind her – a gentle, shushing sound that was amplified in the eerie, dark silence and made her feel suddenly, irrationally alone.
    ‘Adam said you went all the way back to school for his model plane today,’ Jodie said loudly, a little too cheerily. She notched it down a tad. ‘He’s so forgetful. Hope it wasn’t too much of a rush to get packed.’
    ‘No problem. My bags were already waiting by the door. Besides, he looked like his little heart would break if I didn’t.’
    Jodie smiled, relieved to hear Corrine’s voice. ‘He really wanted his dad to see it,’ she said, wishing she could tell Corrine how thankful she was.
    Corrine had banned her from saying thank you two and a half years ago. That was a week after Jodie had gone back to full-time work, still angry and reeling from James’s decision to give up on their rocky marriage. She’d been stuck in traffic then late to pick up Adam and Isabelle from after-school care. The kids were upset,