After she’d abandoned the car, Georgie felt conspicuous and vulnerable in the deserted countryside. A fluorescent hot-air balloon floating across the horizon wouldn’t have stood out more.
She strode faster.
A section of Schlicht’s barbed-wire fence leaned towards One Mile Track. Georgie threw her bag on top to weigh it down and climbed over. Spikes dragged the skin under her jeans. She swore, then dashed for the nearest clump of trees.
She skidded on damp undergrowth. Legs split. Hands thrust forward to break the fall. Mouthful of dirt, skinned chin. Bruised pride, no major damage. She dusted herself and listened. Isolated birdcalls, occasional animal mutterings, nothing else. Not even a distant engine.
Georgie straightened. Was she mirroring Susan’s movements? Of how long ago? Four, f
