I gunned it down those country roads, my tyres eating tarmac at a rate well over the national speed limit. I only dared to slow down for the handful of blind corners that came my way or the few other cars that shared the road with me, their headlamps flickering between full beams and normal.
Their strobing motions mimicked the dull panic banging on the back of my ribcage.
4 am. The digital clock in the dash read 4 am.
I was making good time – better than I hoped. The house would probably come into sight in a couple of miles given how flat everything was around her.
“In 200 yards, turn left,” the woman on the app chirped. She was far too chipper for my taste, her voice buoyed on the quiet hum of the radio. Normally I’d hate the volume as loud as I dared, enough to drown out my own s
