It was a little past 1700 now, growing dark, the weather settling in. A constant hail of white pellets, the kind of snow called graupel, rattled on the ute's canopy. Visibility was down to a couple of hundred metres and I was driving as fast as I dared, wondering how much time I had before the girl's disappearance was discovered... Before what I'd done came out...The snow and darkness would help to obscure my trail, but not by much.
I wasn't frightened, though. I was elated. I was free and I was on the move and nothing seemed impossible.