I pull off the duvet. My legs feel heavy from lack of use after only a few hours and I shake them back into life. Mum folded my jeans neatly on the chair in my room. I grab them and start to pull them on as I keep the phone fixed to my ear.

“You spoke to the bloke you know in the police, didn’t you?” I say, knowing I’m right—it’s what I’d have done if I were him. He knows something.

Jon doesn’t say anything for a while, weighing whether to tell me or not. I cup my hand round my mouth, force myself to talk quietly.

“Look, I’m the only one who’s seen GoodSam or whatever his name is. I’m the only one who’s seen Grace since she was taken, I know what she looks like now. You think even if you do find her that she’s going to talk to you? A reporter who’s screwed her and her dead mum over once before? Of course she won’t. She’ll never talk to you, Jon, but she knows me. Remember how she talked about me in the diary? She always looked up to me. She’ll listen to me.”

Jon’s quiet on the other end of the line, thinking. I know he wants to keep me safe, but he also knows I can help. At last he says, “Look, if I agree to this it’s on the understanding that you’ll do as I say.”

“Of course.”

“No bloody running off and meeting up with psychopaths on your own. Understand?”

“Yes, yes, I promise.”

“If I tell you to stay or if I tell you to go somewhere, you do it without messing around, without even questioning me.”

“Agreed.”

“And, Cara, do your mum a favor: don’t just disappear, talk to her, let her know you’re OK, that you’ll be safe, and that you’ll be back tomorrow. If you do all that then we have a deal.”

“Thanks, Jon.”

I have no idea what I’m going to tell Mum. I grab a T-shirt out of my drawers. “I’ll meet you at Goat Beach, same spot as before?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he says.

Underneath the concern, there’s a hint of excitement in his voice and I think he’s secretly pleased I’m coming along. I want to ask him what he knows, where we’re going, but I know it’s best for us to talk in person.

“See you soon, then,” I say, before I hang up. I finish getting dressed and grab my backpack, shove in some overnight stuff before picking up a notepad and chewed pen. Mum—I’m sorry. I can’t tell you where I’ve gone but I promise I’m safe and will be home tomorrow. Please try not to worry too much.

I pause before I write, I love you. Cara x.

I open my bedroom window and, dropping my bag outside to the ground first, I crawl through the open window and jump down into the golden late afternoon light, the smell of cut grass and warm asphalt immediately filling me with hope. I start walking quickly towards the park and remember the only piece of advice my dad ever gave me, when I was small and terrified of the dark. He told me that monsters are always scarier when you stay and wait for them, that if you call them out and look them straight in the face they’re usually not as bad as they seemed. Now, as I walk towards GoodSam, I find myself hoping that, for once, Dad was right.