Twist Of Fate

Seven

HARRY

Our feet pound on the gravel as we tear underneath the flyover away from the squad car and into the darkness. I know we have mere seconds to get as far away as possible, before the car stops and our footsteps are audible. I am heading towards the steps that will take me up onto the road, but instinct suddenly kicks in and at the last second I veer right and scramble up the slope on all fours, diving into the shadows and coming to a halt as the ground beneath my feet meets the roof above my head. I crouch low behind a concrete joist and turn around to watch the scene below me unfold, trying to slow my breathing to avoid detection. Chloe is hot on my heels, tucking herself in beside me and then peering around me to get a better view. Our eyes meet briefly, and I press my index finger to my lips indicating to be quiet. She gives a single nod, her mouth pressed into a hard line as though she is physically having to contain a scream.

The police car slows to a stop and the front doors open, allowing two uniformed officers to step out. Their forms are illuminated by the flashing lights, and we watch as they close the car doors and begin to poke around the wasteland where we were standing just moments earlier, nudging rubbish with their feet and peering into the long grass. The crackle from their radios is faintly audible amid the noise from the flyover, but not clear enough to make out what is being transmitted. They slowly make their way across the gravel, edging gradually closer to our hiding place as their search takes them up the slope.

I watch intently; my eyes darting from the police, to the steps that would carry me to safety, to Chloe beside me who is looking more and more terrified by the second. Any minute now they will turn around and leave, surely? They won't bother to come all the way up here. They're not from Forensics - they're just poking around on the offchance of finding something of interest. They won't be that thorough - will they?

My heart rate that had previously slowed since crouching still is picking up again, as I am now starting to realise that being discovered is a real threat. Even if the police are not here to look for me, they would find it extremely suspicious that two people are hiding in this barren wasteground, only a few feet from an abandoned car. A quick registration check would tell them that car belongs to someone who is wanted for questioning in relation to a murder. They would put two and two together in a matter of seconds, and the game would be up.

Panic creeps over me but I fight it with every fibre of my being, determined to keep a clear head. Right now my freedom depends solely on my ability to make a good judgement. The officers are inching ever closer, blissfully unaware they are only feet away from a wanted man. If I were to make a run for it, the surprise element would buy me a couple of seconds at most before they would be hot on my tail, and I couldn't guarantee Chloe would remain hidden. If she were caught who knows what trouble she could land me in with her loose lips and uncontrollable hysteria?

I feel her gaze on me, and I turn my head a couple of degrees to my right. Chloe's eyes are wide and her expression fearful, her hands now pressed over her mouth no doubt in an attempt to remain silent and not give us away. She is staring unblinkingly at me, as though begging me to give her some sort of instruction, to get us out of this, but I don't have the answer. Every muscle in my body is tensed, ready to flee, and my instinct is screaming at me to make a break for it. But something keeps me where I am, and as one of the officers shines his torch up the slope in our direction both Chloe and I lean back, pressing our bodies against the unforgiving concrete, desperately trying to blend in. I hold my breath as just the other side of the joist shoes crunch gravel and a voice sounds just to my left, no more than three feet away and muffled by the grey mass between us:

"There's nothing here. He'll be long gone by now."

"Nothing down here, either."

The second voice is much further away, likely at the bottom of the slope among forgotten rubbish and used drug paraphernalia.