Run Away With Me : A fast-paced psychological thriller by Daniel Hurst (free e novels TXT) 📗

local rag. They are back to posting about break-ins at the post office and lost sheep on the main road, not a hit and run several miles away that has nothing to do with this sleepy village.

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel as I wait for my wife to return, and I smile to myself as I do. Gemma has popped into my mind again, as she so often does, and I feel great about the fact that I will be with her again very soon. She is due at the cottage in the early hours of tomorrow morning, and I can’t wait to pull her towards me and give her a kiss. I especially can’t wait to do that in front of Laura. She’ll be stunned. She’ll be confused. And I imagine she will be angry. But that’s not all she will be.

She’ll also be afraid.

I cannot wait to see it.

So hurry up Laura, and buy your newspaper so you can return to this car and we can go back to the cottage where it’s safe and warm.

At least it is for now.

But it won’t be for long.

Soon it will be the most dangerous place in the world for her to be.

41

LAURA

That trip didn’t go as well as I had planned. I didn’t find anything in the newspaper about the hit and run, and when I tried to use my phone, it wouldn’t work. Adam says that was because the story is not relevant to the village members who read the local paper and while that might make sense, what doesn’t is the fact that my mobile phone wouldn’t pick up a signal. The sim card is in the back so there is no reason why it shouldn’t have connected now, yet I am still unable to access the data on my device and browse the web. To make things worse, Adam had forgotten his phone so I couldn’t even use that. All in all, it was almost a complete waste of time.

Almost.

I have managed to find an article about Bradley’s disappearance in one of the newspapers, and I am currently lying on the bed in the cottage and reading it whilst Adam is downstairs having another beer. It’s on page eleven of one of the national newspapers, which is surprising and makes me worry even more. Clearly this is a story that is warranting some serious publicity and my heart is in my mouth as I begin reading the words beside the photo of the man I had the affair with.

Beneath the headline ‘FEARS GROW IN CARLISLE FOR MISSING MAN’ comes a short article which I read quickly to try and find out as much as I can about what might have happened to Bradley. According to the article, he has not been seen for over forty-eight hours since he left his home to go to work at the usual time of 07:15. His weekday routine involved driving into the centre of Carlisle, but studies of CCTV footage around the city have found no record of him making his way to work. The article goes on to say that his wife recalls that he was in good spirits before he left and that none of his behaviour leading up to the day that he went missing suggested that he was troubled by anything, which is leading police to think there may be something more sinister behind his disappearance. But other than a phone number for the general public to call if they have any information, there is nothing else.

No explanation. No theories. No clues.

I lower the newspaper and shake my head, astounded that this could have happened to a man like him. His wife said that there was nothing wrong with him before he went missing and I believe her because I know what Bradley is like. He is happy, confident and positive. He is not somebody plagued by doubt, regret or fear. I don’t think for a second that he may have been secretly battling some kind of mental health issues that have led to him leaving his family and causing himself some harm.  So what is the alternative?

That he has been attacked?

Kidnapped?

Murdered?

I feel sick at the thought of something bad happening to him, not because I care deeply about him but just because he is a nice guy, despite what he did behind his wife’s back. If something like this can happen to somebody like him, then it can happen to anybody. Nobody is safe out there. How awful.

What kind of a world are we living in?

I close the newspaper and put it on the other side of the bed, before resting my hands on my bump and worrying again about the world I am bringing a new life into. I’m sure I’m not the first pregnant woman to have the feeling of existential dread about birthing new life onto a planet that is full of so much uncertainty, but it’s one thing when you see and read about bad things in the news happening on the other side of the world. It’s another thing altogether when something bad happens to somebody you know in the same city that you live in.

I hear Adam’s footsteps on the stairs, and I wait for him to appear in the doorway, wiping a small tear away from one of my eyes before he does. I could just blame the tear on my pregnancy hormones and not tell him the truth, which is that I’m worried about a missing guy in the newspapers. But I’d rather he didn’t see that I was upset at all. I need to appear calm and in control, even though I don’t feel like I am. I need to feel that way because Adam appears to be feeling that way. The fact that he seems to be getting increasingly calmer by the day should be making me feel better, but it’s actually making me feel worse. He doesn’t seem