"I'm sorry, I'm really not feeling well. Um, flu, I think." Amy dug her nails into her palm and shivered – lying made her uncomfortable at the best of times.
"Do you think it will last long?" Peter's accent always thickened when he was worried, and phones only made it worse.
"I think I'll be okay tomorrow," Amy said – that at least technically wasn't a lie, it was only made misleading by context and she couldn't help that. "I'm really sorry about today." True again, and this was getting easier.
"It is fine." Peter sounded grave. "Do not have any worries, okay?"
"I won't," Amy said, and wished him goodbye. Jessica was walking back into the hall, and looked as if she were on the verge of breaking down.
Amy got up from the stairs, and Jessica tried to smile at her, but her mouth didn't seem to want to go along with it. Amy didn't dare hug her after everything recently, but patted her on the arm and went "So work aren't expecting me anymore."
"Thanks." Jessica gave another almost-smile.
Amy was afraid to ask the next question, and saying it felt like pushing a glass towards a table-edge. "So, what did they say?"
"My parents?" Jessica tried to shrug and crumpled instead. "They haven't heard anything either, and whatever it is they don't want to hear it from me."
Amy could sense the edge of something hidden, and didn't know what to say to it. Instead she tried to change the subject. "Are you sure he hasn't just gone out? Maybe he left his phone because it died or broke – he wouldn't have been able to tell you then."
"He could have left a note," Jessica said, but she was frowning and Amy could see the idea working its way in. "His shoes are still here."
"Does he really only have one pair?" Amy didn't know if she believed herself or not, but the key thing right now was to calm Jessica down and stop those eyes flowing over.
– she wasn't meant to be thinking about Jessica's eyes she'd promised herself –
– stopstopstop –
"You're probably right," Jessica said, and Amy brought herself back to the present. "I don't know where he'd have gone though. Who're his friends, besides Steven?"
"You'd have to ask–” Amy hesitated.
"Nevermind then." Jessica sat back on the stairs.
"Maybe later." Amy hovered, looking towards the kitchen door. The workman had gone quiet. "Do you want anything to drink?"
"Hey, it's my house." Jessica got back up again, and managed a small real smile. "I'll do the offering."
"No, you sit down." Amy headed for the kitchen door. "I'll make us some tea."
She pushed the door open, ready to excuse herself, but the workman Jessica had told her about wasn't there anymore. There was only a scattering of plaster dust in the middle of the kitchen tiles.
The kettle was boiling when Amy got Jenny's text, and for a few awkward seconds she juggled phone and cups and teaspoons and nearly dropped the lot of them.
"I take mine with sugar," Jessica called from the hallway, sounding more like her usual self.
"Okay," Amy called back, and caught sight of herself in the side of the steel kettle. She'd forgotten about that horrible bleached hair.
The kitchen door swung open fom the breeze and Amy headed over to lock it, then paused, looking at the mud and gravel outside. There were two indentations in it, separated as if they were footprints but far too long and pointed to be human feet.
Amy couldn't think of any animal that made tracks like that. She called Jessica through, "Come and see this."
Jessica was with her seconds later, squeezing into the doorframe. She squinted at the prints, and didn't seem to have anything to say.
"Was that the workman?" Amy asked her.
"I don't know." Jessica shook her long hair. "I didn't really look at his feet. Maybe he was wearing special boots or something?"
That didn't seem likely to Amy, and the prints looked older than that – the mud had dried around the edges. Maybe they were from last night – and if so –
"Could Jack have left these?" Jessica shook her head at the question, so Amy pulled out her phone and took a picture of the strange prints.
It was getting chilly. The two of them headed back inside, and Amy made doubly sure to lock the door. She felt uneasy, but not due to anything she could put into words.
If the light had needed fixing before, it was now working perfectly. Amy and Jessica both sat at the kitchen table, and Amy wrapped her hands around the cup of tea to warm them.
She remembered Jenny's text. "I've got to go to Hazel's later on. Do you remember Hazel?"
"You do?" Jessica pushed her cup to one side.
"I'm really sorry, I promised." Amy decided not to mention Jenny's name. "If Jack's still not back by tonight, let me know and I'll come right over, okay?"
"If he's not back by then I'm calling the police." Jessica's jaw was set.
"Good idea," Amy offered, and to her surprise Jessica put her head in her hands and flopped forward onto the table.
"I'd like it if you still came over," she mumbled into the varnish. "I don't like being alone in this house."
"Come back to mine if you'd rather," Amy said, and tried to make it sound as innocent as possible. To her further surprise, Jessica nodded.
Finishing her tea, Amy answered Jenny. "Meet you after work?"
Jenny had a crick in her neck by the end of the shift, and decided to walk to Hazel's to straighten herself out. She regretted it after a couple of minutes outside – the wind was picking up, and the trees were almost bare and provided little cover. The call centre was on the far side of town, set up in the outbuildings of the old factory, and Jenny couldn't help but shiver at the dark hulking buildings, abandoned for decades. Her imagination populated them with all kinds of sinister inhabitants, drug dealers or teenage gangs or worse, and Jenny quickened her pace.
Changing her mind, Jenny stopped at the next bus stop, and that was even worse – rather than being by the offices with all her colleagues waiting, she was standing by an empty road in the near-darkness. The chain-link fence beside her offered even less protection from the wind than the trees had, and within moments Jenny was shivering uncontrollably. She huddled up inside her jacket – which still stank of that Jessica – and waited.
There was a sound coming from the empty lot behind her. A scuffling and scraping, as if something were catching the wind. Jenny wriggled deeper into her coat and refused to look.
A light flared up behind her, sending her shadow out across the road. Now Jenny turned, and saw the figure walking across the lot, almost at the other side and too far away for her to make out any details. She saw something flapping at the top of it – maybe a hat? – and a long pole slung over its shoulder. The light was coming from the top of the pole, and it looked almost as if the distant figure had stolen a streetlight.
Jenny glanced back at the road to check for the bus, and there was something not quite right about her shadow. The light was coming from straight behind her, but the shadow was slanted off to one side as if it were trying to escape.
Jenny gave up and turned back to the figure, watching for some minutes until it vanished among the abandoned buildings. She wasn't sure about the directions out here, but the distant walker had looked like it was heading for the centre of town.
There was a roar and a blaze of lights behind her, and she barely managed to catch the bus.
Amy was waiting on the bridge like they'd agreed – Jenny had wanted to make it Hazel's house, but Amy had protested she'd never been there before and wasn't confident. Her hair was a terrible washed-out colour, and Jenny greeted her with "What have you been doing?" and an upward glance.
"It's not finished yet," Amy protested, one hand flying to the top of her head as if to protect it.
"Never mind that," Jenny was more concerned with moving, keeping warm. "Let's get going." She led Amy across the bridge to Bell Street, and as they crossed Jenny couldn't help glancing at the waters of the Lamber below. It ran slow and compla
cent, mirroring the streetlights.
"I was talking to Jessica," Amy volunteered as they walked. "She says Jack hasn't been home."
"Huh." Normally Jenny wouldn't care less, but hearing that came only served to make her all the more worried.
"So what's wrong with Hazel?" They rounded from Bell Street into Sourdough, and it was far quieter than the morning, silence only broken by the occasional car. That suited Jenny right now.
"Same thing," she admitted, and Amy stopped in the middle of the pavement upon hearing it.
"Wait, hang on." She was flustering and flapping like Amy always did, and Jenny went "Come on, slowpoke," and pushed ahead, forcing Amy to catch up. "They've both disappeared?"
"Only sort of the same," Jenny explained. "We saw Hazel through the window but she won't answer."
"I was going to suggest they'd run off together." Amy giggled.
"Maybe." Jenny couldn't help laughing back, and despite the cold she felt a bit more spring in her footsteps. Maybe Hazel was alright despite the silence and the weird messages and the empty flat. She was sensible and organised and nothing like Jenny. It made Hazel dull sometimes and she could be a bit dim but it meant she wasn't the kind of person trouble happened to, and though Jenny would never admit it it was why she still hung around Hazel, why she liked her – Hazel was actually dependable, not like those people who went out of their way to be nice all the time and made a big deal out of it. Like that ex of Tom's Lynette, or like Steven.
Thinking again of Steven, Jenny wasn't sure if she trusted him at all. He was starting to snap.
They were at Hazel's house by now, and Amy was about to walk right past it until Jenny poked her playfully and opened the gate. The flat looked as closed and uninviting as it had by daylight, save for one difference: the front bedroom window was now completely dark. Jenny peered through the slats, and there was no sign of the lamp from earlier.
"Well, here goes." Amy hopped up and rang the bell, and it echoed as pointlessly as Jenny had expected. She tried knocking on the window instead and calling Hazel's phone again, but neither produced any answer.
"Come on," she told Amy. "Round the back."
"What's round there?" Amy looked confused and stayed where she was, and Jenny was tempted to drag her.
"The back door's got a dodgy catch," Jenny said, starting to walk back down the street. There were no breaks in the terrace, meaning you had to go all the way to the end of the alley behind to get to the back gates or fire escapes.
"So we're breaking in?" Amy sounded more excited than anything by the idea, and Jenny had to hide a sigh. All the people she knew were such little kids, for all they tried to be serious and adult on the outside.
The alleyway was badly-lit and piled with wheely bins and boxes, and Jenny trod carefully, trying not to touch anything. All the back gates looked identical, but she counted under her breath and reached one she was sure was Hazel's, shushing Amy any time the other girl tried to speak.
The gate was too high to see over, but wasn't locked. Jenny walked into the yard, and yes this was the kitchen window she recognised, and there was the kitchen door Hazel had one day shown her how to lift and wiggle this way and lean on at this other corner and then –
The door clicked open, and Amy let out a long breath. Jenny felt hardly less nervous herself and beckoned her friend hurriedly into the kitchen, shutting the door behind them before she turned the light on.
The kitchen turned out empty. So did the hall and the living room, and the tiny cupboard and cubicle that passed for a bathroom in Hazel's place. Jenny didn't turn the bedroom light on – not wanting to disturb Hazel if she was indeed asleep – and instead crept round the door in the darkness. There was just enough streetlight coming through the blind for her to make out the barest outlines of the room, and as Jenny's eyes adjusted she could make out one detail clearly.
The bed was empty.
Hazel – if that squatting shape had indeed been Hazel – was gone.
Six
"Right, that does it." Falling back into the hall, Jenny pulled her phone out and began to dial.
"What're you doing?" Amy tried to peer over her shoulder.
"I'm reporting her missing." Jenny held the phone to her ear and heard the smooth official tones of the emergency services. Amy started to say something else, then looked at Jenny's face and stopped and walked to the other end of the hall, staring out of the little window beside the front door.
Jenny talked, charmed and bullied her way through two different operators before getting a promise that the police would come to the house shortly to make a statement. Only then did she let the man on the other end go – Jenny could almost hear him sweat and found herself grinning despite her worry. All that time at work had been good for something after all.
"Um, what'd they say?" Amy was looking at her.
"They're coming over in a bit," Jenny said, and saw Amy's impatience dance across her face. "Do you have somewhere to be?" Jenny challenged her.
"Oh, no. Well not really." Amy twiddled her fingers. "Did they sound like they were taking it seriously?"
"Dunno." Jenny headed towards the living room – it was at the back of the house, Hazel's whole flat was back to front – and prepared herself to wait. Amy trailed after, and Jenny sat on the drooping sofa and stared at her friend. Amy's eyes were still a little rimed around the edges from the morning and the night before, and her makeup was barely there. Her bleached hair on top of this made her look older than normal, worn-out, and her expression was a strange mix of worry and restlessness, chewing her lip as if she wanted to be there and away at once.
Jenny didn't want her any more or any company for that matter – worry for Hazel was coming up inside her like a bruise, and she was ashamed to show it.
"You can leave if you want," she said. "All they're going to do is write her down and file her away, it won't mean much." The last words came out bitterer than Jenny had expected.
"Are you sure?" Amy hovered in the doorway, eyes darting to the kitchen and the back door.
"Well, you clearly want to be somewhere else." Jenny didn't know what was up with her all of a sudden – all her energy had vanished and she was cold and empty inside, lined with porcelain and black paint.
"I did promise Jessica–” Amy started, then broke off and ducked out when she saw Jenny's expression.
The kitchen door banged, and Jenny had the house to herself. She leaned back on the sofa and put her feet up, boots over the end – it wasn't as if it was her landlord who'd get pissy – and stared at the patterns on the wall. Hazel's flat had old-lady wallpaper with a grid of brown leaves and baskets. It reminded Jenny of a prison, if prison was made of time instead of metal.
She was thinking weird thoughts again. Jenny flipped her phone open, looking for anything happening in the wider world.
Steven had found the message Terry had posted, and her comment, and Tom's snarky one. A full-scale war was erupting, and Jenny curled herself up to watch.
Steven was on the bus to work, leaning into the corner of his seat and shivering at the draft through the windows, when he saw what Terry had done. That spotty little idiot was laughing at him, and other people were joining in – Tom had gleefully added "whoa settle down psycho haha" with an enormous pixelated grin, and Jenny – Jenny had come over all serious and patronising, saying "let it go steven she isnt urs, girls arnt things."
Hunching over in his seat so the other passengers couldn't see, Steven replied.
"What the hell do you all know anyway Terry is just using her"
Terry must've been keeping an eye on his own post, for it only took a minute for him to reply.
"Stop taking your tiny dick out on me haha, it's not my fault she dumped you, it's yours."
Steven gritted his teeth. Wished Terry was in front of him, that he could get that thick neck between his fingers.
"Get lost you prick your just trying to deal with the fact girls leave you as soon as youve slept with t
hem"
"nothing like u then" – that was Tom chiming in. Steven would have some things to say to him when he got back, creepy little twit.
"Yeah right, I'm not the one putting them in hospital," Terry added.
Steven stared at the last few words for some seconds. He could hear Terry's voice saying them, that smug tone and cheeky flashy smile. His hands gripped his phone so tightly that the plastic squeaked.
"Piss off you sack of shit that was an accident"
"Language hahahah." Terry wasn't even trying any more.
"wait till your precious jessy finds this mate," Tom added.
The bus stopped abruptly, jerking Steven forward. His head banged against the handle on the seat in front, and he lost it and swore out loud. The other passengers stared and shuffled in their seats, and he got up and walked down the aisle, mentally damning the lot of them.
By the time Steven reached the bar, his mood was boiling over into a full-blown thunderhead.
Tom was still on the sofa and staring at his work diary. He wanted a job really – of course he wanted a job – but there was something about the way the jobcentre treated it that made the whole idea of job searching incredibly unattractive, like the worst kind of homework. Maybe it was because they treated everyone like disabled children. Tom could swear he'd done more searching and applying in the weeks before he'd swallowed his pride and signed on.
He threw the packet of papers aside and logged back on. There was something new going round the sites, something big, and he'd been holding off on looking at it to try and motivate himself into getting the job-hunting done. It hadn't worked.
Getting up to turn the lights off, Tom hopped back onto the couch and started the video up.
This video started with a living room, which was a bad sign. Most of the real ones – the ones worth taking seriously – were outdoors, looking up at the sky. Anyone shooting indoors would just be whining about their abduction fantasies, and Tom didn't have the patience for that.
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