Getting Lost Read online

  Her torment was short-lived. Stella launched into action only minutes later when, dressed in tailored navy shorts, runners, and a singlet top, Phoebe strode purposefully from the hotel entrance.

  “I gotta go, Max.” Stella hurried from the café, ignoring Max’s excitement as he rushed from the kitchen to see her off.

  She fell into step, keeping approximately ten metres behind Phoebe. In contrast to what it was supposed to do, her disguise left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. At this juncture, the battle was winning the mind games in her head and maintaining composure. She inhaled slowly and focused. Stella altered her gait in an attempt to walk like a young boy, that is, she hunched over and scuffed her feet, imagining for a moment she had a pair of socks stuffed down her knickers. Without appearing too obvious, she checked her phone, ensuring it wasn’t on silent and was accessible in her left pocket. She found it disconcerting to have both earphone buds in, so she removed one and ensured the cord was secure and plugged into absolutely nothing down her T-shirt. Finally, Stella adjusted the backpack so it clung snugly to her small frame and relaxed into her boy stride.

  She remained on the lookout for anyone with an air of familiarity. It was true that perhaps Oscar didn’t even know Phoebe was in the country, but it was also a possibility that Simon Threadbody knew exactly where she was. She needed to be in the zone, prepared and alert.

  The time was nudging nine forty-five, but the pace hadn’t quickened. Based on this, if Stella knew Phoebe well enough, the scheduled time to meet Sebastian was most likely ten thirty. Phoebe would arrive early and survey the area. Phoebe’s methodical planning gave Stella a morsel of comfort.

  Bathed in gorgeous sunshine, they appeared to be walking in the direction of one of Lucerne’s most affluent inner city suburbs. The tree-lined avenues were home to huge townhouses, all protected by solid wrought iron fences or thick, well pruned hedges, far too high to see over. Stella had studied the map umpteen times, so this was not unexpected. Unfortunately, there were few reasons for tourists to visit this way, so it became more challenging to blend in with a crowd.

  Without warning, Phoebe stopped, pulling to the side to answer her phone. Shit! Stella had been too preoccupied scanning the area and visualizing the map to be prepared for this. With only the slightest falter in her stride, and against all her instincts, she continued on, head down. Don’t stop, she repeated over and over in her head. Stella cursed her lack of focus; she should have been expecting the unexpected. Reading on the Internet that you should continue past your subject and pick them up later was one thing, but actually passing within a metre of Phoebe was another. Stella’s racing heart pounded in her chest, amplified by the tight bandaging that she was sure, all of a sudden, constricted her breathing.

  From beneath the brim of her hat, she saw Phoebe lean against a thick stone wall, speaking into her handset. Panic gripped Stella; Phoebe was staring back up the street, directly at her. Was her disguise good enough? Would being found out jeopardise their relationship and Phoebe’s attempts to see her son? She fought against every cell in her body not to stop. It all looked and sounded so easy in theory. She pushed onward, her ears filling with the sound of fear. Stella gritted her teeth, and despite herself, lowered her head even further.

  Just as she was about to pass, Phoebe turned toward the wall, her back to Stella, oblivious to everything. Stella glanced around hurriedly sucking in deep breaths to regain what little composure she had. Her next step was to locate an appropriate place to pull over and wait for Phoebe in order to resume her tail. Twenty metres away, on the opposite side of the road, she spotted a bus stop. Every instruction she’d read on the Internet told her not to look back and it took all her will power not to check that Phoebe hadn’t shot off in another direction. Stella crossed the street and strode toward the sheltered bus stop.

  Every move she made was fraught with the possibility that she was over exaggerating and drawing attention to herself. She slouched like she imagined a young teenager would and pretended to read the timetable. She was indescribably relieved to watch Phoebe finish her conversation and resume her journey.

  The entire area was littered with carefully manicured parks occupying street corners. Some parks were private, only accessible to those lucky enough to live in the houses on the immediate perimeter, but many were open to the general public. Stella hoped to God if the meeting was in a park, it was a public one.

  After leaving a suitable distance, she crossed back over the road again to resume her tail. They walked for only another two blocks before Phoebe turned left into a well-equipped children’s playground. This reserve was nestled on a long narrow strip with streets at each end and old, expensive apartment buildings on either side. Trees and wooden play equipment were strewn the length of the park atop lush green grass.

  If she knew Phoebe as well as she thought she did, she guessed she would be stopping soon at a vantage point allowing her to scan both entrances and the full length of the park. Stella began wandering toward a large tree to take cover. She passed a serious battle taking place between what looked like a herd of plastic dinosaurs and a fleet of Matchbox cars. She nodded awkwardly at a group of mothers, before finally reaching her destination.

  There had been no script to follow on the Internet in relation to the actions of a teenage boy loitering in a park, so on the off chance that Phoebe, or anyone else for that matter, happened to be looking in her direction, she wanted to appear authentic. Drama was hardly her favourite subject at school, but she casually threw her backpack on the ground and slumped against the tree trunk fiddling with her phone. Most kids these days barely looked up they were so used to staring at the tiny screen. She wouldn’t win an award for her acting, but then in her experience, most teenage boys looked awkward anyway. Phoebe settled on a bench about thirty meters away, checking her watch.

  Stella’s position wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Due to the trees, in which she sought some cover, her vision of both entrances was partially obscured. A better vantage point would have her too near the clearing and perhaps too obvious.

  If Stella had thought she was nervous before, it compared little to how she felt now. Now, she was terrified. She could feel the bandage around her chest moistening with sweat, and it took remarkable concentration to stop her legs from jiggling. She wondered how long she could slouch like a bored teenager before raising suspicions. At ten twenty-five, after noticing Phoebe stare in her direction for a long time, Stella shifted her hat a little lower. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, that kind of manoeuvre attracted attention instead of deflecting it, but her nerves were frail. She clenched her jaw. Phoebe looked away, but then, following the new direction of Phoebe’s stare, Stella realised she could have removed all her clothes, stood on her head, and still not attracted Phoebe’s attention.

  From the far end of the park, Stella watched a woman arrive hand in hand with a young child. Sebastian was a fine looking boy.

  The greeting appeared awkward. Hesitantly, Phoebe embraced the nanny with a brief hug and a peck on the cheek. Next, the introduction to her son—Stella had no idea if he was of average height for his age, but Phoebe knelt on one knee, extending her hand to the shy, unsure young boy. Stella hadn’t realised she was holding her breath until her lungs demanded air. Of course, watching all this unfold was like watching a slide show. Stella couldn’t watch everything at once. She looked periodically toward Phoebe and her son, between scanning both park entrances and keeping check on the nanny. Phoebe must have suggested she push Sebastian on the swing because like a shot, they raced to the long line of swings and she began pushing him, high and fast.

  Besides the anxious knot in her stomach, Stella was touched by the reunion. Although Sebastian would have no recollection of the last time they were together, Phoebe had given birth to that little boy, and Stella was so pleased for her to finally be reunited, albeit for an agonisingly brief encounter. Also in the back of her mind was the tiny wave of relief that confirmed P
hoebe had been telling the truth. Seeing for herself a proud mother play with the child she had never really met, alleviated many of Stella’s harboured seeds of doubt.

  Stella pushed all sentiment aside and regained her focus. Besides a handful of teenagers and families strolling through the park or settling on a picnic rug, there wasn’t a great deal of action, but she remained vigilant. As much as she loved the fact that Phoebe was at last meeting her son, the tension was almost palpable. The sooner they were out of this park, Lucerne, and even Switzerland, the better.

  From the moment Sebastian arrived, time slowed down, and Stella found herself checking her watch every few minutes. Phoebe and Sebastian moved from the swings to the slide, from the slide to the roundabout, and then began a game of checkers on the life-size board. Stella felt creepy, watching over the top of her phone.

  The park really was beautiful. Nearing lunchtime, it began to fill up with twenty-somethings playing Frisbee, groups of middle-aged couples enjoying bocce, and countless mothers with prams and toddlers.

  At eleven twenty, Stella could almost taste the end relief, it was so close. Phoebe had promised to call her by midday, so this little party would be coming to an end soon. She had suspected Phoebe’s time with her son would be about an hour, any longer and his absence may have been suspicious. It had all gone so smoothly, her preparation was well worth the effort. In less than ten minutes, all this stress could be put behind them.

  Yes, falling deeply in love with Phoebe Lancaster was going to be amazing. She’s mine, Stella thought as she watched Phoebe scruff the hair of her little boy. She hoped Phoebe could work something out with Oscar in relation to custody of Sebastian, but whether it was just the two of them or a threesome, it made Stella astoundingly happy.

  Then it all went wrong. Horribly wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The nanny’s phone rang and her head snapped around. Stella followed her gaze. Her eyes locked on a man dressed in jeans and a smart jacket entering the same gate she and Phoebe had passed through on the north side. The man was too far away to pinpoint exact features, but it didn’t matter; she knew who he was.

  Stella had a split second to make a decision. Should she cause a commotion, head toward him and hope Phoebe saw the kerfuffle in time enough to leg it? Although she knew Phoebe was on high alert, this was the son she hadn’t seen growing up. Would she be too engrossed in Sebastian to escape in time? Beyond this, there was also the real risk of Stella being caught if she distracted him too closely. If he discovered she was disguised, the outcome was unpredictable. Her fate would be in his filthy hands.

  Her time was up. Stella swung her pack over her shoulders and crossed the middle of the park. Exposed and no longer amongst the shelter of the trees, she hurried toward Phoebe.

  “Mum. Mum! I want to go now!”

  Stella advanced at a rapid pace and Phoebe’s face indicated that she recognised Stella’s voice, if not her appearance. Either way, it had the desired effect. Phoebe’s eyes left Stella and focused on something behind her.

  Stella chanced a quick glance in the same direction and clocked sight of the man striding toward them, pressing his fingers on an ear piece and speaking into what Stella guessed was a concealed microphone.

  “We need to go now!” Stella’s tone was serious, but her voice trembled with fear. She tightly secured Phoebe’s hand. There was no time to make this little drama presentation any more authentic. Phoebe grabbed her bag from the park bench, bid the nanny and Sebastian a quick good-bye, and marched off, dragging Stella along behind her.

  “Fuck, Stella. Do you know who that is?”

  “Yes. I know. And I’m guessing he knows who we are, too.”

  “It would be too much to expect him to just be satisfied with scaring us off.”

  Stella glanced behind her. The man kept his stride, marching past Sebastian and ignoring the young boy’s attempts to greet him. In fact, the man brushed the child aside without even flinching. “He’s still coming, Phoebe!”

  They weaved through the barriers designed to stop motorcycles from entering the park and burst onto the street, Stella heading one way, Phoebe the other.

  “This way,” Phoebe snapped.

  Stella recovered and accelerated to catch up. She saw the man, less than twenty metres from the gate. “Should we split up?” she asked, following Phoebe across the road.

  “No. We have to stick together.”

  As they rounded the street corner, Phoebe’s long stride found her a metre or two in front of Stella who was struggling to keep up. Stella checked again and the man turned the corner after them, breaking into a steady run. Stella wondered how they would maintain their pace for an extended period of time, let alone increase it.

  “We can’t outrun him,” panted Stella.

  In response, Phoebe darted up a narrow alleyway. Stella knew what she had in mind, but they just couldn’t seem to put enough distance between them and him. There was no time to disappear and hide.

  “Follow my lead.” Phoebe pulled bins over to obstruct the path in the narrow alley and Stella followed suit.

  They gained precious seconds when he tripped over the contents, but was it enough? All Stella and Phoebe could do was run for their lives.

  Stella’s legs were burning from lactic acid build-up, especially her thighs, and she wondered how far you could push your heart to pump valuable oxygen around your body before it gave up. She refused to consider the consequences facing them if they were caught.

  Stella checked behind. Yet again, the distance was closing. Their hunter pressed on, relentlessly leaping over every obstacle before him.

  In one last-ditch effort, Phoebe pulled Stella left down a narrow path, and then right behind a block of flats.

  Stella recognised they had made a critical miscalculation.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Simon Threadbody pulled up, gasping as he rounded the corner. Stella and Phoebe had their backs against a brick wall. Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. His prey was trapped. He whistled aloud and hunched over to draw some much needed oxygen.

  Stella wanted to wipe the smug grin off his face, but she could barely breathe, let alone muster enough energy for a bodily assault. Regardless, Simon was almost twice her size.

  He made a show of his flashy equipment when he pressed something in his jacket pocket and said. “Track my GPS signal and get Oscar to me right away.” His gruff voice was nothing like the sophisticated persona he conveyed, but then, neither was his posh tone. He paused to listen to a voice on the other end. “Just tell him Phoebe Lancaster is dying to see him.”

  If the gruelling sprint through the affluent streets of Lucerne hadn’t knocked the wind from Stella, she found herself desperate for every precious breath now. Her pathetic effort to eat breakfast plagued her, and although she attempted to keep the food down, she threw up the entire contents of her stomach and stumbled along the wall, lightheaded and dizzy.

  Simon laughed.

  Phoebe pulled Stella close and glared at him. “You shut your mouth.”

  He shrugged and paraded back and forth in front of them, his chest puffing out triumphantly with every breath regained. “Hey, I’m as surprised as you that she lasted that long. She’s improved since last time.”

  “What?” Phoebe stood protectively between Stella and Simon. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, last time I chased that little minx, she gave up well before today’s big effort.” He winked at Phoebe. “She must be trying to impress her latest squeeze.”

  Stella stepped from behind Phoebe. “So, it was you?”

  This time Simon laughed long and hard. “Yes, you stupid little dyke. Jesus, I tried to warn you about this one.” He pointed to Phoebe. “But, oh no, little Miss Smartass here knows best. You don’t take a hint, do you? You fucking thick or something?”

  “Simon!” Phoebe barked. “Don’t you dare speak to her like that.”

  He advanced toward Stella, frowning menaci
ngly. “You get about with a murderer, seriously dangerous things begin to happen around you and to you, and you flat out refuse to heed one warning,” he said. “That, in my book, makes you a very silly little girl indeed.”

  Adrenaline was again beginning to surge through Stella. She could take all the insults anyone spat at her, but she would not tolerate Simon Threadbody, a piece of scum, accusing Phoebe of murder. “We all know who killed Rebecca, Simon.”

  “You know nothing, stupid girl,” he spat.

  “So, you were sent to hunt me?” Phoebe spoke calmly. It seemed Simon didn’t scare her at all.

  “Come now, Phoebe. Do you really think if I’d been sent to hunt you, you’d be standing there alive?” He chuckled to himself. “I could have killed you a million times over by now.”

  “Then what?” Phoebe asked. “Are you just playing a little game? Toying with your prey?”

  “Don’t be so bloody melodramatic. You’ve watched too many movies. Oscar asked me to have you followed, see what you were up to.” He shook his head. “What were you thinking? Coming to Europe wasn’t a smart thing to do, my girl.”

  “I should have known Oscar was behind this. As if you’d have the authority to hunt me,” said Phoebe.

  Simon’s head snapped toward her. “I have all the damn authority I need. Tailing you myself was my idea.” He sighed. “Although it didn’t begin well. That poor girl on the Metro was a slight miscalculation.” He shrugged and smiled as Phoebe and Stella exchanged glances when they realised he was talking about Pippy. “Besides that though, the little traumas you encountered along the way were just a bit of fun. No harm intended.”

  “You beat the daylights out of her.” Phoebe pointed to Stella. “That was just a bit of fun, was it?”

  He shrugged. “Well, I enjoyed myself.”

  Stella was beginning to crack under the insanity and pressure of the situation. She thought she was going to be raped in Corfu. Was this bastard really going to rape her? Her sweaty palms, her racing heart, and the sense that she could wet her pants at any moment were a testament to her fear. Although a tiny voice inside her head warned her not to antagonise Simon, a stronger and louder voice in her heart was taking a different route, for a very different reason. “You could have killed me, you asshole. But you’d be used to that feeling wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t exactly be the first time you found yourself with blood on your hands.”