_OceanofPDF.com_The_Girl_on_the_Train_-_Paula_Hawkins

away from them both, from all of it. Maybe running and hiding is exactly
what I need to do.
I get to my feet and walk round the park just once. I’m half willing the
phone to ring and half dreading it ringing, but in the end I’m pleased
when it stays silent. I’ll take it as a sign. I head back the way I came,
towards home.
I’ve just passed the station when I see him. He’s walking quickly,
striding out of the underpass, his shoulders hunched over and his fists
clenched, and before I can stop myself, I call out.
He turns to face me. “Megan! What the hell . . .” The expression on
his face is pure rage, but he beckons me to go to him.
“Come on,” he says, when I get closer. “We can’t talk here. The car’s
over there.”
“I just need—”
“We can’t talk here!” he snaps. “Come on.” He tugs at my arm. Then,
more gently, “We’ll drive somewhere quiet, OK? Somewhere we can
talk.”
As I get into the car, I glance over my shoulder, back the way he
came. The underpass is dark, but I feel as though I can see someone in
there, in the shadows—someone watching us go.