Chapter 19
NOW
Late August
Wednesday
My stomach dropped as I flicked the torch off again, and I rammed the phone back into my pocket.
I turned back to the screen.
Ninety-five per cent.
I yanked the USB free. The screen flashed a warning. Unsafe removal. I closed the pop-up box, exited Windows Explorer and hit control-alt-delete to lock the system.
The chair grated as I pushed it back under the desk, and I stumbled through the darkened room and out of the door.
I started down the aisle back towards the tack room, my heart pounding, my ears straining.
The heavy scrape of metal welded me to the spot. I knew that sound.
The bolt on the main door.
The tack room was still too far away.
I swung my head left and right, searching for a place to hide.
There was no time.
No choice.
I grabbed the nearest latch and slipped inside a stall, dragging the door closed behind me and reaching over to slide the bolt back into place with trembling hands.
The main door creaked open, and soft light filtered in.
A soft huff sounded behind me.
I flinched.
Cautiously, I turned my head.
Atlas.
My breath caught as he stepped close, his head bobbing up and down towards me.
I edged back, my gaze shifting from him to the aisle, visible above the stall door.
I was trapped.
He’s gentle. He won’t hurt you.
Ryan’s voice echoed through my memory.
I hoped he was right.
Lowering myself to my knees, I pressed myself into the corner of the stall, out of sight of the aisle.
Atlas shifted closer.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shrinking into a ball.
Footsteps stopped just outside as a beam of light swept into the stall.
‘Come on, Atlas.’ Martin’s voice was familiar even in the darkness.
My heart sank. I’d picked the wrong stall to hide in.
‘Atlas?’ Martin whispered louder. ‘Time for your medicine.’
My eyes flew open as Atlas huffed softly beside me, blowing warm breath across my cheek. I stared at him, frozen in fear, his head lowered only centimetres from mine.
Panic surged through me at the sound of the bolt rattling in the latch. Martin was coming in.
In desperation, I reached up towards Atlas’s lowered head, my hand brushing against his neck as I tried to gently push him away.
For a second he didn’t respond.
The bolt started to shift.
I gave Atlas another nudge.
This time he turned and moved towards Martin. Dizzying relief flooded through me as the bolt clunked back into place.
‘Here you go,’ Martin whispered gently. There was something so soothing about the way he spoke to the horses.
Martin reached over the stall door, his hand outstretched. ‘I mixed it with a bit of apple.’
In the darkness Atlas was little more than a dark shadow. His head dipped to Martin’s hand.
I listened to the soft shift of hooves, a gentle snort, then low steady crunching as he took the apple.
‘Right then,’ Martin said, as Atlas lifted his head with a soft huff of breath. ‘You get some rest now.’
The light shifted as his footsteps retreated towards the main door.
I didn’t move. My body stayed alert as I listened to the sounds of the door closing, and the bolt being slid back into position.
Still, I waited.
My legs trembled until finally I stood up. I kept my hand against the wall, using it to guide me through the darkness towards the stall door. I peered out, checking the aisle. It was dark and silent. Carefully, I reached over and slid the bolt, edged the door open and slipped back out.
My gaze turned to Atlas as I closed the door behind me. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered.
He stepped towards me with a soft snort as though he’d understood. For a second I was tempted to reach out and stroke him, the way Ryan had tried to teach me. But I didn’t.
I turned, retreating to the tack room, my gaze locked on the main door, fearful in case Martin came back.
I couldn’t get caught. Not here.
I paused by the window, just long enough to listen for a second.
Silence.
I hauled myself up, it was easier from this side, with the rack beside the window acting as a ladder to help me up.
I squeezed through the window and dropped onto the ground outside. Grunting softly, I pushed the window as close to shut as I could manage. It didn’t quite catch.
It would have to do.
With a final glance at the farmhouse silhouetted in the darkness, I hurried back towards the fence, my fingers slipping into my pocket and tightening around the USB drive.
Did I have them yet?
The answers?