‘Sorry.’ Melody didn’t look very sorry. ‘You might have worked out that Baxter’s not a big fan of fair.’

‘Um, so what about me?’ I asked.

This time Melody did manage an apologetic nose wrinkle. ‘Top of the scoreboard competes alone.’

‘Ooh, bad luck!’ Summer said, suddenly appearing much happier.

Before I could gather my wits, Baxter’s face appeared on the screen above the fireplace. Ben quickly held up his phone to record it, prompting the rest of us to follow suit.

‘Congratulations on making it this far. It’s by the red one.’

‘What?’ Ben exclaimed, the rest of us looking to Melody for some sort of explanation.

‘Good luck.’ With another quick smile, she turned around and left.

‘This is a joke.’ Summer screwed up her face in disgust. ‘He’s insane.’

‘Probably just wants to force us into tramping around aimlessly until we all give up one by one,’ Calvin said.

Lincoln, however, looked far less annoyed than the rest of us. He nudged Calvin. ‘I’m going to change into my boots. Meet me in the hallway in five?’

Calvin and Lincoln strolled out of the door, leaving the rest of us waiting to see who would make a move next.

‘Sounds as good a start as any.’ Ben shrugged.

‘No secret weather code for a red one?’ Jordan asked, skimming through his phone as they walked out.

Summer watched me, eyes narrowed. It wouldn’t take a genius to predict that she was going to play this game using underhand sneaking about rather than skill. I racked my brains as to the tiniest hint of what the clue might mean. It might be that I’d only be able to decipher it once I found the ‘red one’, but I had a strong suspicion that Lincoln had already detected something helpful in Baxter’s words.

Deciding that boots, a coat, and hat were a good idea, I hurried off to my room, the clue circling around in my head yet still coming no closer to land. Once safely in the room I played the clip of Baxter’s video back while I bundled up in my outerwear, certain that I must have missed a vital clue. It was on the fourth replay that I found it.

It sounded as if Baxter had deliberately rushed the sentence to make it harder to hear, but when I focused on each individual word, I couldn’t believe I’d missed it:

Congelations on making it this far.

Not congratulations, congelations.

The transparent ice that’s often known as black ice when it forms on smooth water.

The Bigwood estate was on the edge of a small loch. Zipping up my coat, I grabbed my shoulder bag and hurtled out of the door, only to smack straight into Henry about to walk in.

‘Woah.’ He grabbed both my elbows to stop the rebound knocking me over.

‘Sorry.’