How’s work, big fella?

I stared at the message. Could he be so brazen about it? Wondering how he had found out so fast about my suspension, I hit reply.

Who is this?

The reply was almost instant.

Who do you think?

There was only one person it could be. Ben, you bastard.

You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?

The reply was a single emoticon.

He had been two steps ahead of me since the beginning, and it seemed he still was. It was time to end this. He had made his point, had his fun with me. Now it was time to get on with our lives: him with his wife, and me with mine. Frankly if I never saw him again after that, it would be just fine with me.

I typed another message.

Let’s meet up. Properly this time

The reply was just three letters.

Lol

The anger came again then, the blood pounding in my ears. He was enjoying tormenting me, dropping me in it with the police and with school. He was doing what he said he’d do – ruining my life – and laughing at me while I squirmed on the hook.

The phone rang in my hand before I could send another reply. A mobile number I didn’t recognise.

‘Hello?’

‘Joe, it’s Peter Larssen. Can you talk?’

‘Sure.’

‘I was going to leave a message, didn’t think you’d be free before lunch.’

I told him about the Facebook picture and my suspension from school.

‘Surely that’s harassment?’ I said. ‘We can do something about it legally, right?’

‘We could look into that, yes. Take a screenshot of the post and email it to me.’

‘It’s proof that he’s hounding me, trying to sabotage my career.’

‘Hmm.’ Larssen didn’t sound convinced. ‘The truth is, Joe, things have been moving rather fast on the police side. That was actually why I was calling.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Things may be more serious than we previously thought.’

My stomach lurched.

‘More serious?’

‘They’re starting to focus on the theory that something bad may have happened to Ben Delaney.’

I sat down in a kitchen chair.

‘That’s exactly what he wants them to think. But I thought the police were finding proof that he was alive? Proof-of-life investigation, Naylor said?’

‘They’re looking, but if they can’t find proof – and soon – they’ll start to go down different avenues. Like an accident, or the possibility that foul play might be involved.’

‘Foul play,’ I repeated. It was a phrase from the TV news, from newspapers, but not one that was supposed to feature in your day-to-day life. ‘Involving me?’

‘Possibly.’