I scan the elaborate red-carpeted landing, and see that all the doors on the first floor are closed, except for one at the very end. I check each room, my heart thudding inside my chest every time I open a door, unsure what I might find behind it. Most of the rooms are completely empty—except for dust, dirt, and cobwebs—but one of them is spotless and I see something I wasn’t expecting. There are two small beds side by side, covered in pretty pink sheets, and a nightlight casting a constellation of moving stars over the walls and ceiling. I notice the dolls on the pillows, two glasses of water on a little table, and a copy of Little Red Riding Hood. There were children here tonight, but they’re not here now.
I try not to think of my own little girl as I step back out on the landing and turn to face the final door at the end of the hall. The floorboards seem to get louder with every step that I take toward it, as though trying to warn me to stay away. An iron poker doesn’t seem like adequate defense right now. I hesitate when I reach the door, then kick it fully open, not wanting any unexpected surprises. I get one anyway. The cameraman is dead on the floor, lying in a pool of his own blood with his head bashed in.
I stare down at him, it’s impossible not to, then check the rest of the room until I am certain nobody is lurking in the shadows.
“I need you to drop the weapon, sir.”
I spin around and see Priya standing in the doorway.
Despite the combination of noisy floorboards and perfect silence, I still didn’t hear her coming. At first, I feel relief. But then I notice her gun—the one she said she carries for self-protection—pointing in my direction.
“Priya? What are you doing?” She looks down at the dead cameraman, then at the iron poker I’m still holding in my hand. “Now, hang on a minute—”
“I said drop the weapon, and put these on.”
Without taking her eyes off me, she reaches inside her pocket with her free hand and produces a set of handcuffs.
“Priya, I don’t know what you think—”
“Last chance,” she interrupts. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
Her
Thursday 01:40
It’s as though Mum can no longer hear me, so I ask her again.
“When did the policewoman come to the house, and what did she want?”
“Lots of times. Asking questions.”
“About what?”
She squeezes my hand and stares up at me.
“You.”
“Me?”
Tell a person they’re wrong and they’ll cover their ears. Tell a person they’re right and they’ll listen to you all day long.
“It’s okay, Mum. I believe you, but we have to get home now.”
She nods and we carry on walking, navigating a path through the woods. I drag her along as fast as I dare over a forest floor full of obstacles. Giant roots and fallen trees can be dangerous in the dark, but then so can Cat Jones. And I fear she’s still out here somewhere, hunting us down.
Every few steps I check my phone for a signal, hoping I can call Jack. But then I remember that Priya Patel is with him.
It’s impossible to know who to trust.
Him
Thursday 01:40
“Priya, it can be very difficult to know who to trust in these situations—”
“I mean it, sir. Put the weapon down.”
She stares again at the lifeless body of Richard Jones on the floor and then the iron poker in my hand. I see things the way she must be seeing them right now, and it makes me want to run.
“I didn’t do this!”
“Put the weapon down.”
“Priya, I—”
“It’s over, sir. When I asked the tech team to triangulate Anna’s phone, they told me that someone had canceled the same instruction I had placed on Rachel Hopkins’s mobile yesterday. They just confirmed it was you. Boots that match the prints left by her body were found in your trash can, you have links to all the victims, and witnesses have described seeing a car that sounds a lot like yours, parked outside the school the night Helen Wang was murdered.”
“I know how this looks, but—”
“There’s no such thing as coincidence. You taught me that on my first day.”
“Someone is trying to set me up—”
“Who?”
“I don’t know!”
She takes out her phone.
“Backup are on the way, and the tech team are now trying to trace both mobiles. Rachel’s has been turned on again. Shall I call it?”
She presses a button, and seconds later a phone starts to ring inside my pocket. I try to talk over the sound of it ringing.