crashed angrily against the rocks.
I looked along the opposite bank, following the river's current, trying to work out where we might land up. I could see downstream for about 250 meters, then the river bent around to the right and disappeared from view. The opposite bank was about two or three feet above water level, with plenty of grab provided by foliage and tree roots exposed by the current as it carved into the soil. I had to assume the worst, that there was a massive waterfall just after the bend, and that meant that we had just 250 meters in which to make our way across and get out.
The ambient temperature wasn't freezing but it was bitterly cold. On land, we wouldn't die of exposure if we kept moving, but the river would be another matter. Sarah saw me looking at the water and back at her. She dropped her head and buried it in her arms. The gesture was one of resignation, and recognition of the fact that, if she were telling the truth about wanting to get away, I was her only means of escape.
The heli was somewhere behind us, doing its stuff between the river and the houses; I couldn't tell exactly where it was, but it had to be near or I wouldn't be able to hear the rotor blades groaning as it tried to keep a low hover.
I went over to her, grabbed hold of the belt and pulled her to her feet.
She looked into my eyes.
'Nick, why not take this thing off? Please. I'm not going anywhere, am I?'
I ignored her. Gripping the belt with my left hand, I moved down to the water's edge, keeping my eyes lifted to the sky. I tried to convince myself that the only thing that mattered right now was the helicopter.
A spit of rocks extending about five meters out looked as if it would give us some sort of platform to begin our crossing; water sluiced over the top and there was no way of telling how deep it was on either side. I hoped Sarah could swim, but if she couldn't, tough, she should have said. I looked at her eyes and suddenly saw fear there, then I looked at the river again. It was a fair one. There was no way I couldn't remove the belt. I needed to keep her alive. Her death had to be at a time and place of my choosing.
As I undid the knot she said very quietly, 'Thank you.'
I caught her eye, trying to read the message there, then nodded and moved on, throwing the belt into the bag. She stepped gingerly over the small stones at the water's edge.
'Come on!' I snapped.
She kept her head down, watching her footing.
'I'm trying, it's hurting my feet.' As we started to wade in she gasped, 'Oh, fuck, it's so cold!'
She was right; the water temperature had to be near freezing. I told myself just to get in there, get it done, and worry about warming up again on the other side.
I fought the current until I was up to my waist, with Sarah behind me grasping the strap of her bag that was still over my shoulder. Then, with my next step, I was into fast-flowing water, the current tearing at my leg, threatening to throw me off balance. I grabbed her hand, whether to support myself or to help her, I didn't know, but no sooner had I lifted my other leg than the weight of water whipped it away from under me and I was being swept downstream. I still clung to Sarah, both of us kicking and thrashing to keep afloat and make some progress toward the opposite bank, but the current was starting to drag me under. If you're trapped against a rock by water that's just half a meter high and moving at 12 mph, you'd need to be able to bench press 550 pounds to lift yourself away. We were no contest for the tons of water surging downstream.
My head was forced under and I swallowed a mouthful of freezing river. I kicked back to the surface, forcing myself to breathe in through my nose, only to choke as I inhaled yet more water. I let go of her. We each had to fight our own battle now. She looked at me, her eyes the size of saucers as she realized what I'd done. That wasn't my problem; it would become one only if I couldn't find her body before they did. She still had to disappear without trace.
I saw her through wet, blurred vision, trying to keep her head up, kicking and swimming and wading like a seal. Then she was sucked under by the current and I couldn't tell how far across I was. The water kept taking me under, and I was more concerned about sucking in air than getting to the other side. I couldn't see Sarah at all now, but there was nothing I could do about that. I was in enough shit of my own.
As I came up again and snatched a lungful of air, I heard a scream.
'Oh, God! Oh, God!' I looked around for her, but saw nothing above the torrent.
I was dragged back down and inhaled more river water. Scrabbling my way to the surface, I saw that this time I was almost at the far side. The current wasn't dying down, though, because the river curved around to the right and I was on the outside of the bend, where the force of the water was at its fiercest. An eddy caught me and the momentum threw me against the bank. I threw out my hands, trying to grasp an exposed tree root or an overhanging branch, anything I could.
I shouted for Sarah, but all I got in reply was another mouthful of river.
I coughed, trying to force my eyes open again, but they stung too much.
Thrashing around blindly, my left hand connected with something solid. I I made a grab, but whatever it was gave way. The next thing I knew, my right arm had booked into a large tree root. The current swung me around and pressed me against the bank, and my feet connected with solid ground. I clung to the roots and took deep breaths to slow myself down.
Downstream, nothing was moving in the water but branches and lumps of wood.
I struggled against the weight of water until I could reach with my free hand and grab another root higher up the bank. I finally hauled myself up until only my feet were left in the water, being forced sideways by the current.
One more grab and pull and I was lying on the bank, fighting for breath. I'd never felt such relief. I lay there for more than a minute, coughing up water and slowly feeling some strength return to my limbs.
As my head cleared, I realized my problems weren't over. I'd now have to find Sarah, and she could be anywhere downstream. Clearing the banks would expose me to view from the ground, and the river was a natural route for any follow up to be taking. As if that wasn't bad enough, the heli, if it came back, would ping me at once.
There was nothing I could do about any of that; I just had to get on with it and retrieve what I could from this gang fuck. Turning my head, I could make out the river behind me, blurred by the water in my eyes. There was still no sign of Sarah.
My soaking clothes weighed me down as I started to stumble along the bank, leaning over the edge from time to time to double check that she wasn't concealed behind rocks or in some kink in the ground below me.
If I couldn't find her and she was discovered downstream, or even on the coast, I'd just have to accept that it was a big time fuckup. However, not yet.
As I moved, I kept my eyes skinned for somewhere to hide her body if she were dead. Hiding her wouldn't be the ideal solution, but there was fuck-all else I could do. It would slow me down, carrying her out of the area, and I could always come back in a month or two and finish the job. It needed to be a spot that I could ID at a later date, perhaps after a change of season, and one that wasn't near a hikers' route or a water course.
As the current reached the bend and changed direction, its noise became almost deafening. I followed around, the dead ground gradually coming into view. I couldn't believe it. Just 300 meters farther downstream, resting on timber supports driven into the riverbed, was a small footbridge. The story of my life. If I'd been looking for one, it wouldn't have existed.
I stopped, looked and listened. The bridge would be on their maps, and anyone sent to follow us would use it to cross.
As I got to within maybe 150 meters of the structure, I could see that it was made of three thick wooden supports rising up from the river on each side. The walkway, made of what were probably old railway sleepers, was maybe two meters above that.
In any search pattern the police would use this bridge as a key point, somewhere that it would be natural to go to. Maybe they had already identified it and had a team hidden, waiting for us to cross.
Should I move into the canopy a bit and then come back to the river farther down once I'd boxed around it? No good: I needed to search the whole bank. The way things were going she was probably just a meter from the bridge, dead. I watched for a while longer. The wind bent the treetops and the water crashed along at warp speed.
At first I thought it was the white water pushing itself against the middle support, with the occasional plume
