It is the late afternoon of the twenty-third of March.

Lockdown.

Stay at home. Save lives.

Red and yellow chevrons mocking me. There is no way to get to Leah’s cabin. No way to hire a van and move the body to a safer place. No way to get away. I am trapped. Megan is trapped.

What the fuck do I do now?

Chapter Twelve

There is a silent scream in the back of my skull. It is getting worse, the pressure building and building. I think I will explode.

We cannot leave the house, except for essentials, for at least the next three weeks.

“It’ll be longer,” Chris says in a smug “I know better than them” voice.

I used to love that tone, thought it was fantastic to be with someone so clever and self-assured.

“How long?”

He shrugs. “Six weeks at least. Probably more like three months. Depends on how much people actually listen and obey the rules.”

“Does this not bother you?”

“It should hardly be a surprise, Meggie.” If he wore glasses, he would be peering at me over their rims right now. “I’ve been saying this was on the cards for weeks.”

Has he? I fall silent as I comb back through the last month. Have I been so busy with Tom and trying to figure out the escape, the body, juggle my own job, everything piling on top of me and that one thing I should have listened to just falling on deaf ears?

“At Mum and Dad’s,” he says. “Don’t you remember?” He tips his head to one side a little. “We had a conversation about how it might be the last time we saw them for a while?”

I’m silent as I play the memories through, searching for that conversation, which rings no bells.

“Oh, Meggie. Please tell me it’s not happening again.” Concern drips from his voice like poison.

I have been so careful recently. Hypervigilant, making notes of everything. Every conversation that I had as Megan, every text, every email, every purchase, every outfit, is recorded on my phone. Every little thing that happened as Leah on hers. Everything that seems to have a place in both lives is in a small notebook, buried in the midst of boring minutes from boring meetings so no one would ever realize.

“I’m fine,” I say. “It’s just this whole lockdown thing, that’s all.”

“It’ll be fine, Meggie. We just stay here, work from home, get through it. Thank God we like each other’s company, hey?”

I smile outwardly while my skin crawls.

“Imagine if you hated your spouse?” he carries on, warming to his subject. “Imagine if you were planning on running away with your lover and then,” he claps his hands together and the noise startles me, “BAM! Just like that you can’t escape.” He is watching me carefully as he talks. I try to breathe normally. There is no way he could know; I have been so careful. “Imagine if you were scared of what your other half could do, while the rest of the world ignored your plight in favor of their own problems.” He’s goading me, but I’m not sure why. Unless he’s trying to mess with me for his own sick fun.