But I ignore him, and pull on my boots and coat, then race into the kitchen. I grab a knife from the rack and shove it into my pocket.

Back in the lounge, Thomas is fretting. ‘Please don’t go out there on your own, Amelia. Wait.’

‘For what? Nobody’s coming to help us, Thomas,’ I yell as I fly past him and out of the door, determined to find out who screamed. Knowing I have to do everything I can to stop whoever killed Ruth and Maddie from killing again.

Chapter 37

Present Day

Amelia

I zip up my jacket, and hurry across the snow, brandishing my phone torch as I head for the trees, surging adrenalin keeping me warm.

A recent track of footprints leads from the area near the top of Vine Hill towards Bluebell Cottage, droplets of blood telling me they are Dad’s heavy boot prints from when he carried Maddie. I use his imprints to help me walk faster.

I reach the trees, and glance back over my shoulder at the sheets of snow stretching behind me, deadening sound. The silence rings in my ears. The cottages are all in darkness, except the one I’ve just come from, and I feel desperate, sad, confused, my blood pumping too fast. This is such a beautiful yet tragic place.

I beat back tears, turn, and take a deep breath. ‘Rosamund?’ I call, disappearing into the wood, trees covering me, making visibility difficult. Panic surges through me, as I spiral deeper and deeper into the wood. ‘Elise?’ Memories of the ghost walk that Finn, in his top hat and cloak, had taken us on a year ago touch my thoughts. But I’m not afraid of ghosts – I’m afraid of real life.

Finally I emerge beside Kyla’s bench, and walk up behind it, gripping it to steady myself, to catch my breath. It takes a moment before I see a phone lying on the snow-covered wooden slats. I’ve seen it before. It belongs to Elise. The pink case with a glittery “E” is distinctive. I pick it up, and look at the screen. The phone is on, and I look at the screen, before looking about me. ‘Elise!’ I call. ‘Elise?’

My eyes back on the phone, I find myself searching the address book. She hasn’t many friends, but I recognise her dad, and Rosamund.

There’s no password, and I search her text messages. Two sent recently – to Rosamund:

Why bring your stepdaughter to Drummondale House? You know what happened to Lark.

I told you you shouldn’t have brought Elise to Drummondale House, but you didn’t listen.

The freezing air suddenly buzzes with the presence of another person.

The snapping of branches startles me.

I drop the phone with a clatter.