Читать книгу Apple of My Eye: The gripping psychological thriller from the USA Today bestseller - Claire Allan, Claire Allan - Страница 15

It couldn’t be that hard to follow someone, I figured. Especially at night-time when the roads are quieter. So I did. I walked behind her out of the supermarket. Left my basket abandoned in one of the aisles. Didn’t pay. I’d make do with toast for dinner.

Fate smiled kindly on me. The woman had parked her car close to the supermarket exit and I got a full look at the make and model. I knew my own car was parked just two minutes away on the main road, and if I hurried I’d still be able to follow her.

I got to my car as quickly as I could and switched on the engine, cursing that the windows of the old rust bucket I’d the misfortune to drive were so badly steamed up. I stuck the blowers on full. I didn’t have time to wait. I couldn’t let her get out of my sight and away. I grabbed the old chamois leather I kept in the glovebox and wiped the inside of the windscreen furiously. Just as I looked up, I saw the flash of headlights from the car park exit. Her car emerged and turned left towards the Foyle Bridge.

I swore under my breath. My visibility was still shocking and I was pointing in the wrong direction. I needed to do a U-turn, but with my rear windows still clouded over I couldn’t see clearly enough to do it safely.

I could take a chance, I supposed. I wound down my window and stuck my head out, tried to gauge what else was on the road. She was getting away, so I slammed my car into first and turned the steering wheel. The road was clear and I could make a go for it.

But just as I moved off, the car juddered, stalling with a thud. And the road was no longer clear, and my engine wasn’t catching when I turned the key in the ignition. Her rear lights were moving further and further into the distance, blurring with the rain and the condensation and actually, my tears, too.

I slammed my fist on the steering wheel in frustration, the horn blaring loudly.

Kneading my forehead with the heels of my hands, I tried to regain my composure. This was just a setback. This wasn’t defeat. I’d still do this. Nothing of worth in this world was ever easily achieved. I reminded myself that I’d asked God to send me a sign and He had. He’d brought her to me and I had to keep faith that He would bring her, and her baby – my baby – to me again.