‘Nothing. I thought I saw something.’ I peer back down the path, and there is a long shadow where someone stands, tucked behind the hedges further down. ‘You go in. I’m going to have a quick look.’ Grumbling, Fran goes into the house, warning me not to speak if it turns out to be yet another journalist, and I walk silently down the path to the bank of hedges.

‘God, you scared me.’ Ella steps out of the hedges, and I press my hand to my racing heart. ‘What the hell are you doing, lurking about in the bushes?’

‘I had to walk this way home, so I thought I’d see if you were OK. Things were . . . tense, when I saw you last. When George Snow was arrested.’

‘That still doesn’t explain why you were in the hedge?’ I force out a laugh, but with the dark, the fog, and Fran’s words about Dominic I am feeling on edge.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ella raises her hands in a gesture of surrender, ‘I saw you walking with Fran, and it looked like an intense conversation. I didn’t want to disturb you – I know Fran is going through enough right now, without strangers ambushing her on her doorstep. But, as long as you’re OK?’

‘Fine. Thank you – I appreciate the gesture, even if it was a little bit weird.’ We both laugh, and after we say our goodbyes I head back towards the house, trying to throw off any feelings of unease but no matter what, I just can’t shake the idea that Ella wasn’t walking past as she claimed. She was watching the house.

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 17

Fran is already in the kitchen when I make my way downstairs early the next morning, her laptop in front of her. Today marks three weeks and two days since we last saw Laurel, and I barely managed an hour or two of sleep, my mind fizzing with Fran’s words the previous evening. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Laurel getting into a car, Dominic behind the wheel, spiriting her away never to be seen again. As a result, I feel sick with exhaustion this morning, my stomach churning and my face clammy and pale. Fran would look the same, if she hadn’t taken the time to smooth on some foundation and a lick of mascara. She holds out the coffee pot to me and I shake my head, acid already burning at my stomach lining at the thought of it. There is no sign of either Dominic or Kelly.

‘Where is everyone?’ I pour myself a glass of water and sip at it slowly, relishing the icy feel as it slides down my dry, sore throat.