The Industry Read Online Free

a moment before shooting a glance back at Cassie.
    Just as she did a man with dreadlocks moved into the aisle and blocked her from view. Kirra returned to the newspaper and scanned the rest of the page, reading about record university intakes, plans for a new railway line and an inner-city bicycle accident, anything, really, to look busy. The man reading it turned to the final page and looked over it briefly before folding the whole thing in his lap. Kirra was just going to sneak another look at the back seat when a voice called her away.
    â€˜Excuse me.’
    A young woman with curly red hair leaned forward in her seat, addressing the man with the newspaper.
    â€˜Are you finished with that? Do you think I could steal it from you?’ she asked.
    The man seemed surprised by her request for a moment but then she flashed him a smile and he handed her the paper as though he’d just been hypnotised.
    Kirra tore her eyes away from the exchange, and gasped. She’d almost passed her stop! She scrambled to press the little button by the door, bumping clumsily intopassengers with her heavy bag on the way and wincing when she heard a soft, sneering giggle from the back.
    Once she had alighted and crossed the busy Waverly Road she looked around for Cassie, who normally strode ahead or lagged behind, outright refusing to even seem to be an acquaintance of Kirra Hayward’s.
    It appeared, however, that Cassie wasn’t going home tonight as the bus chugged off in a cloud of exhaust with her firmly still on board.
    Kirra kicked a flat stone ahead of her for a few paces, before it skittered off course and into the gutter. She dawdled along the street, paying much more attention to her music than to where she was going, having taken this route home more times than she ever cared to remember. It was only when she turned the corner into the quieter Barrie Avenue that she slowed and came to a halt. Standing by the blossoming yellow rose bushes that filled the garden of the house on the corner, she felt goose bumps sprout along her forearms despite the afternoon warmth, and the all-too-familiar shudder trickled down her spine. This time the feeling was much stronger and far more threatening than before, and her brow crinkled in a frown. She was being watched. She was certain of it.
    But there was no one around. The street was empty except for a stationary bright gold Honda, a blue Jeep with a dent in the driver’s door, and a dark green van. The faint clanging of a piano resonated from one of the houses, the roar of traffic from Waverly Road continued, and a dog yapped in the next street.
    It’s nothing, Kirra told herself firmly, replacing her headphones and almost digging them into the canals of herears in the hope that music at a high enough volume might force the menacing feeling away. She turned towards the safety of her house on Lowe Road, her stride far more purposeful than before. She couldn’t help feeling that the faster she got away from Barrie Avenue, the better.
    But something made her stop again. She yanked the headphones from her ears and looked back, the hairs on the back of her neck tingling. The green van, so unremarkable before, had now become the centre of her attention. The windows were tinted and it was motionless, but Kirra was sure — no, she was positive — the engine had started in the time she’d replaced the headphones and taken those few steps. Now it sat very still, simply watching her.
    Not watching you , she chided herself silently. Don’t … don’t be paranoid.
    She’d taken a few more steps, still teasing herself for being foolish, when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the green van pull out onto the street. It crawled along behind her and Kirra increased her pace. It was entirely plausible that the van had nothing to do with her at all. Perhaps it was purely chance that it had pulled out behind her. But her heart sank as it accelerated with