There was something on the bridge. Sally-Ann tapped the breaks, squinted.
It was a child. A girl. Lacey Merrick.
Sally-Ann stopped the car, fumbled for the hazards.
The bridge was not a safe place to pull up. She stepped out and felt the fog press close around, felt the icy air slice inside her.
‘Lacey?’ she called. What was the girl doing out here? On the road? It was so early and so cold.
‘Lacey?’ The child didn’t move, didn’t seem to notice.
Sally-Ann reached out and touched her hair. It felt damp, frosty, almost brittle.
‘Lacey!’ Sally-Ann insisted.
‘Lacey!’ The little girl looked up at her and blinked as though waking from a dream.
‘Something’s wrong with Lionel,’ the child said. ‘We need some help.’











Cool post!