Her door stuck at first. Claire shoved it open with her shoulder and stumbled into the rain. The car had stopped near the edge of a steep ravine thick with wet brush and loose stone. Beyond it, the ground dropped sharply toward a dark, swollen run of water.
She bent over, breathing hard, and saw a thin trail of fluid glistening near the front wheel. She did not know enough about engines to name it, but she knew enough to understand the week behind her: Colin under the bonnet, Colin cancelling the garage appointment, and Colin insisting she take this road. It was a pattern she couldn’t ignore.
Claire looked back at the car, then down into the ravine. If she called for help and went home, Colin would know she had survived. If she went to the police now, he would cry, deny, and explain, until it all became reasonable again. Her handbag lay overturned on the passenger seat. The cracked phone had slid into the footwell. A scarf hung from the handbrake. Claire stood in the rain, thinking faster than she ever had in her life. Then she opened the rear door and began putting things back inside.