‘I took a walk with the others involved in Anna’s stupid website. To talk about the fact that some maniac has got Violet and that we might be next. And looking at that banner, we were right to think they were coming for us.’

‘If the Pale Child sees your face, you die.’ Mandy’s eyes were wide, her expression vacant.

Gary slapped his hand against the sofa arm. ‘Shut up, Mandy!’

Jai spoke to Gary. His voice was icy. ‘Perhaps you should give your wife a chance to tell us why she’s so worried.’

Gary finally looked at Jai, and then at me. The dog rolled onto her back and Gary stroked her saggy, bald tummy. ‘Mandy’s not been well,’ he said. ‘She has mental health problems.’

Mandy whispered, ‘We all know how it works – if she sees your face, you die.’ She wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘She saw Gary and it means he’s going to die next.’

13

Jai and I headed out of Gritton and set off for West Bridgford where Bex Smith lived. It was over an hour away but we could talk through the case in the car so it wouldn’t be wasted time.

‘That was hairy,’ I said.

‘Yeah. The Animal Vigilantes have definitely upped their game recently.’

We drove in silence for a while, leaving the hills of the Peak District behind and heading towards Nottingham.

‘What do you reckon about this Pale Child?’ I said.

‘Sounds like the over-active imagination of a bunch of villagers who need to get out more.’

I sighed. ‘I know. It is strange though: Violet makes a video saying she’s seen the child and then promptly disappears. And nobody wants to talk about it.’

We fruitlessly batted ideas around the car as we travelled down the M1 and around Nottingham, before finally arriving at the address we’d been given for Bex. It was a ground-floor flat in an old Victorian house. I pushed a bell, which annoyingly gave no indication of whether or not it had rung, meaning that when a woman pulled the door open, I had my ear pressed against it. She gave me a confused look, while I acted as if this was normal procedure and showed her my ID.

She ushered Jai and me into a gloomy hallway.

I blinked in the dim light, and my eyes came into focus. It was like walking into one of those crazy antique/junk shops where every nanometre of space is crammed with old and bizarre paraphernalia. The walls were lined with gold-framed paintings – portraits, still lives, horses and dogs, landscapes, and even the odd surrealist. Furniture on both sides of the hallway left only a narrow passage for us to walk down, and even that was cluttered with coat and hat stands, magazine racks and an alabaster bust.