Page 39

Ben had scoffed when Hannah suggested it; he knew the staff would laugh her straight out of the room.

But he hadn’t realized then the extent of her ego; of her arrogance; her stubbornness.

Traits that he both disliked in her and felt in awe of.

The way that, when she got an idea in her mind, she wouldn’t drop it until she’d exhausted every possibility to make it happen.

He’d been right, of course. The duty nurse had shooed her away with a click of her tongue and Hannah had taken her seat next to him in the evening’s group session, muted, shame-faced.

She wasn’t used to being turned down; this was a woman who’d gotten pretty much everything she’d ever wished for.

But Hannah not getting what she wanted that day – it cracked something in her, just a little, and in a good way.

She’d opened up to Ben properly that evening; to the whole group.

She’d told them how dishonest she felt, portraying this squeaky clean, wholesome image, all while she was struggling to make it as far as lunchtime without a half bottle of wine and a couple of joints.

‘It’s the pressure of it all – the stress of having to be online all the time, having to look like I know all the fucking answers – when on the inside, I’m just as screwed up as the rest of the world,’ she’d said, her words blurred by her tears.

‘I don’t fucking know how to help anyone really, do I?

And the need to use something to get away from the feelings – it’s just getting worse all the time – I need to get a handle on it. I need to stop.’

It was that version of her that he’d fallen in love with – the part of her that was vulnerable, and sweet, and honest. She’d tried to get recovery right, after that – she’d thrown herself into it, got herself clean.

But it was as if, after she’d beaten her addiction to drink and weed, she’d replaced it with something else.

Her spirituality, always a force for good in her life, took a darker turn after she gave up the other stuff; she’d become obsessed with growing her following, gaining influence, becoming famous.

And even though a part of him was scared by it, her increasing power had drawn him to her at the same time; made him feel even more special, more important, being in her inner circle.

Another rush in his chest at that thought, a tremulous wave of grief for her.

He should never have come here; he knew that now.

He should have respected her decision to end things with him, to cut him out of her life, if that’s what she wanted.

She’d have hated him turning up here like this, professing his love for her.

She’d have cringed at him showing Paola their most romantic messages so he could make out that they were still together, pretending he’d turned up here to surprise her at her first live retreat.

It was a gamble – he couldn’t be sure exactly what Hannah might have told her staff about him and their break-up – but he’d had little choice: Paola had dismissed his initial suggestion that she had the wrong information about Hannah’s guest list.

And anyway, it had paid off. His story, and the texts, had worked and Paola had believed him.

If Hannah had found out he’d done that, she’d have hated him – or worse.

She’d have pitied him.

And could I have blamed her?

It was enough, now. Once he got home, he would get his life back in order.

He’d stop using the drugs – he meant it this time.

He’d do it in Hannah’s memory; in honour of her.

He’d go to meetings every single day, he’d get a sponsor, he’d go back to fucking rehab if he had to.

Whatever it took. This could no longer be his life; he was done with the suffering his addiction kept causing him.

Another beep dragged Ben’s attention back to the present.

The phone had enough battery now for him to be able to turn it on; he slowed to a stop, found a tree trunk to rest on.

He held down the switch at the side of the phone, waited a moment for the screen to light up.

A few seconds later it turned green, showed the name Iridium again.

There were few options on here – it wasn’t a smartphone, there was no internet, no apps; just ‘MENU’ and ‘HELP’.

And some bars at the top right showing a signal.

Oh, thank God. With a surge of sweaty relief, he punched in the three digits – 911 – and hit the call button, sure he’d read somewhere that the emergency number here was the same as in the US.

To his amazement, and euphoria, it worked – he heard the dial tone, and a woman answered after a short ring, in rapid Spanish that Ben barely caught anything of.

‘ Hola , hello, yes, do you speak English? I need help!’

‘Yes, go ahead, what is your emergency?’ Thank you, thank you, Costa Ricans and your amazing language abilities.

‘I’m lost out in the rainforest – a few miles inland from Rincon.

There’s a body out here, someone has died – and other people have been injured too.

..’ His words came out in a rush; he knew he needed to slow down, but he couldn’t get a handle on himself.

It was as though, now that he’d got a glimpse of rescue, of safety, his brain and body were finally releasing all of the terror and grief he’d been consumed by since they’d found Hannah.

‘OK, calm down, sir – I need you to say all of that again. And where exactly are you – do you have an address?’

Ben took a deep breath, tried again, racked his brains for the address Hannah had given him; he remembered the name, and the closest town, but the zip code, any other details – he had no idea.

He’d just have to give this woman everything he did have.

‘The retreat is called The Hideaway, and I’m stranded inside the property’s private rainforest.

.. there’s a few hundred acres of it. I’m sorry, that’s all I know. ’

‘OK, no problem,’ she said. ‘I can see that we’ve already received an emergency call for rescuers to attend this location today, but our helicopter was unsuccessful in locating you.

However, your satellite phone should be able to send me your coordinates so I can see exactly where you are.

I need you to go to the phone’s main menu and find the option that says “activate GPS”, or similar. Can you see that?’

Ben scrolled through the menu; sure enough, there was the option to ‘ACTIVATE GPS AND SEND COORDINATES’. He pressed it. ‘Done, do you see it?’ he said.

There was a pause for a few seconds, then: ‘I have it,’ said the woman.

‘I am sending another two rescue helicopters from Puerto Jiménez to your exact location now. Help is on the way – they will be with you as soon as possible,’ she said.

‘Please stay exactly where you are, don’t move.

If for any reason you walk elsewhere, you will need to call again and send us your new location.

I will call you back in the next ten minutes to update you on their arrival. ’

‘Of course, I’ll stay right here, whatever they need – thank you, thank you so much,’ he said, starting to sob with relief as he hung up.

It was going to be OK; he was getting out of here.

They’d find Hannah, they’d work out what must have happened to her, who hurt her – who killed her; the desperate search for an answer to that question had plagued him ever since they’d found her.

They’d work out that it wasn’t him – it couldn’t have been him; he wasn’t even here when she’d been killed.

The murderer would be punished. Hannah would have a proper funeral.

I’ve made it.

He sobbed harder at the thought of being out of the rainforest, at getting on the plane home.

He’d been so wrong: he should never have snuck here, in some misguided attempt to get Hannah back – to admit he still loved her, to tell her how much he needed her.

Getting himself clean and drug-free was never in Hannah’s power – she’d never really had any influence over that at all.

He saw it now, so clearly, what he must have heard them say in rehab and twelve-step meetings a thousand times:

I am the only person who can get myself well.

And that’s what he was going to do: he was going to get well. As soon as he got back to that house and his suitcase, he would throw away the remainder of the pills; he’d flush them straight down the toilet. There would be another way; a better way.

He would do it this time; he’d do it for her .

A crack behind him – a branch snapping, a noise distinct from the warbles and cries of the small creatures that moved through the trees. This sound came from the ground, and it was somewhere just behind him.

Ben stopped in his tracks. What was that? He scanned from left to right, high to low. There was nothing out there. No jaguars prowling, no howler monkeys, no sloths – not so much as a tree frog, as far as he could see.

‘Hello?’ he called. ‘Is there someone there? Naya, Scott – Carly – is that one of you?’ He paused, licked his dry lips. ‘Mira?’ But there was nothing now; only silence. He shrugged, turned back to the phone.

He was safe; he was totally alone. He wondered if perhaps he’d imagined it or the snapping sound was one of the tropical birds the jungle was teeming with, raking through some fallen branches, rooting for food.

Yes, that’s most likely all it was. I’m wired, is all. I need some sleep.

Snap.

Another branch, another footstep – and closer this time. He knew he wasn’t imagining it now – it seemed to have come from only a few metres behind him.

A creeping sensation crawled across his skin; an absolute certainty, in that moment, that someone – or something – was coming after him.

He held still, so still that he could hear the blood rushing through his brain in time with his pulse – perhaps, if it was an animal, some kind of predator, it would simply give up if it couldn’t hear him or see him move.

Every cell in Ben’s body wanted to run – run, goddamn it – but he couldn’t. If he moved too far from this spot, how would the rescuers find him? The phone operator had told him to stay in one place, hadn’t she? Their best chance of finding him was if he stayed put.

There was another loud crack behind him; more snapping, faster now – and something else – footsteps. They didn’t sound like those of any rainforest animal – these were decidedly human.

Ben, you need to start running!

He couldn’t rationalize it, this urge to sprint; most likely, it was one of the others, deciding to follow the same path, stumbling across him. If they’d all been running towards that chopper earlier, that would mean he’d gotten close to them all. They’d mean him no harm, surely?

But he was gripped with fear.

Are they coming after me? Have they worked something out? Does someone know that I’ve turned up here uninvited?

That’s it. I’m moving.

If he just tried to walk in a circle – he could keep watch on one of the taller trees, maybe, use that to navigate back to this spot – then hopefully he could lose whoever was after him and get back to the same place.

It didn’t need to be exactly the same spot, surely, for the rescuers to find him?

As long as it was close enough, he’d hear them – or he could send the coordinates again, couldn’t he?

The footsteps were coming faster and heavier towards him now – whoever it was, they were almost here. It was too late. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t outrun whoever – or whatever – was following him. Better to turn and face it – them – head on.

Heart racing, hands clenched into fists, he turned to the source of the rustling, just as a figure emerged from the foliage.

He blew out a long breath and his racing heart began to slow when he saw who was standing there, watching him.

‘Oh, thank God, it’s only you!’ he said, a smile tugging his mouth wide. ‘I thought you were some kind of predator! How did you find me? Listen, I’ve managed to call—’

But Ben never finished his sentence.

His words were shocked from his mouth as the sharp sting of a knife slammed into his side.

He only just had time to register the look of pure desperation on his attacker’s face, to see a series of fast-moving images behind his eyelids – Hannah’s slow, lazy smile after he’d kissed her for the first time; his beautiful Blondie turning her chocolate eyes to him, excited for their morning walk; his mom staring vacantly out the trailer window, fried and zombie-like – before his body slipped to the ground and the world around him began to fade.