Jayne sprinted through the trees, the bark and broken twigs beneath her feet cutting painfully through her tender flesh. Her lungs screamed for a break, but her brain demanded that she keep on going. For all she knew, Fisher could be chasing her, and if he caught up with her, he’d kill her.

The woods were dense, the light from the full moon barely breaking through the foliage, and very quickly, Jayne became disorientated. She skidded to a halt, her ears straining for sounds of being followed. In the distance, an owl hooted. Jayne jumped, and she broke out in goose bumps. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, even though it wasn’t cold above ground. The summer night cast a mild breeze over her bare skin.

When she was fairly sure she was still alone, she began scanning the area for signs of a pathway. Paths led to roads—and roads led to help.

She lost track of time. As her body tired, she began to lose hope of finding her way out of the woods. If she weren’t so scared, she’d wait for first light. At this time of the year, dawn couldn’t be very far away. But no, she had to keep moving. If Fisher did manage to escape, the more she moved around, the less likely it was that he’d be able to find her.

And then another thought occurred to her: what else could be lurking in these woods? England might not rival Australia when it came to nasty critters, but she vaguely remembered a story about the growing number of what the press called “false widow spiders,” which didn’t sound like something she wanted to come into contact with, especially with no shoes on. And what about snakes?

With a renewed sense of urgency, she pressed on, but when a sharp pain shot through the sole of her foot, she cried out. Spotting a fallen log, she limped over and examined the damage as well as she could in the dim light. Blood coated her fingers, and her foot throbbed in agony. She wouldn’t be able to tell how bad the injury was until the sun came up, but one thing she did know—she couldn’t put any weight on it.

Her running curtailed, she limped through the trees, hot tears pricking her eyes. She would not cry. Tears would solve absolutely nothing, apart from diminishing what little she could see.

The burning sensation in her throat grew the more she moved, and her lips were dry and cracked. She tortured herself with images of cool streams and ice-cold drinks straight from the fridge.

Her thoughts turned to Rupe. She couldn’t begin to imagine the torment he was going through. Not knowing where she was had to be driving him into a madness of sorts, and she knew—she just knew—that he’d be thinking the worst.

Jayne glanced upwards, and her heart leapt with hope. A faint glow was spreading across the sky. Dawn was breaking, and that meant she’d have a much better chance of finding her way out.

She spotted the trunk of a tree that had been felled, leaving behind a low stump. She realised she was wasting her time and what little energy she had left, and she decided to rest. Her eyes darted around, on the lookout for any signs that Fisher had miraculously managed to free himself. The common-sense side of her brain told her that he had no chance unless he’d built a secret door to the underground basement, which seemed beyond the realm of possibility. Those walls had been solid. She should know. She’d examined every inch.

Before the sun had peeked over the horizon, Jayne decided that she had enough light to start moving again. A quick glance at her foot revealed a two-inch gash in her heel. Blood had coagulated, but from what she could make out, it would definitely need stitches and a healthy dose of antibiotics.

Using only the ball of her left foot, she hobbled through the trees, and in the growing light, it didn’t take her long to find a path. The weight of terror lifted from her shoulders, replaced by hope. Dragging her left foot behind her, ignoring the throbbing pain, she scampered as quickly as she could down the path.

A distant sound of an engine made her halt, her ears straining to figure out which direction it was coming from, but with the sound bouncing off the trees all around her, it was impossible to determine.

She cursed and set off once more. The farther she went, the louder the noise grew from what had to be a nearby road. With a silent whoop of excitement, she upped her pace, and after what seemed like an age, she saw a car speed past.

“Oh, please, please,” she muttered as she spilled onto the road. She waved her arms about, but the car didn’t stop, and eventually, it disappeared from sight. The road was little more than a small country lane, but surely, more cars would come. As that thought crossed her mind, she heard another car.

Taking a huge risk, Jayne stood in the middle of the road. She was conscious that she had to look a terrible sight, but if she gave this driver an opportunity to pass, they might take it.

As the car came into view, she began waving her arms again, and when it slowed and eventually stopped in front of her, she began to cry.

“Please,” she said, scampering around to the driver’s window to be met by the surprised and concerned gaze of a man in his early thirties. “Please help me.”

“What’s happened, love?” he said, climbing out of the car. When Jayne tried to speak, but found she couldn’t, he gently put his arm around her and placed her in the passenger seat.

“Let’s get you to hospital, okay?” He started the car and set off.

“Do you have a phone?” she managed to croak. “I need to call my boyfriend.”

“Of course, love. It’s in my briefcase.” He pointed into the back seat. “Stops the temptation to answer it when I’m driving,” he said with a grin.

Jayne unhooked her seatbelt and scrabbled around the back seat, eventually locating his phone.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Not far from Challock.” When she frowned, he added, “Kent Downs.”

“Do you have any water?”

He gave her a pained look. “I’m sorry, love, I don’t. We’ll be at hospital soon though.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, “I’d better call my boss.”

With a shaking hand, Jayne dialled Rupe’s number. He answered on the first ring.

“Fisher,” he snapped.

“Rupe, it’s me,” she cried. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“Jayne!” His tone swam with relief. “Where are you? Oh God, where are you, babe?”

“I managed to get out. I’m in a car.” She began to sob. “Someone stopped for me.”

Her saviour gave her an embarrassed grin.

“Tell me where you are, Jayne. I’m coming to get you.”

“I’m…” She turned to the man. “Which hospital are you taking me to?”

“William Harvey is probably the closest.”

“I got that. I’ll be there.” Rupe hesitated. “Are you badly hurt?”

“I’m okay. Honestly. Just be there, please.”

“I’m setting off right now.”

Jayne began to cry softly as she hung up. She was safe. And despite the pain, the suffering, the fact that her foot was most likely infected and her ribs severely bruised—if not cracked—a possible broken cheekbone, and her desperation for a drink, a small smile stole over her face.

She had that fucker locked in his own tomb.