Back down the hall, a glance into Nic’s room and with it the concrete loosening nausea swimming in. There was clear space from the door to the stained carpet marking the spot where Nic had lain, leaking.

Lena continued to the bathroom, stood in the doorway for long minutes staring at the full-to-the-brim bathtub, the cluttered shelves over the sink. The shower stall at least seemed useable. The toilet, too.

Back out and into the kitchen. She would start with the table to give her some clear space to work with. The closest pile of papers was also the smallest, reaching only to her bellybutton. On top was a flyer asking for help finding a lost bulldog. The pet’s puffy, wet-eyed face looked the way Lena imagined her own did right now. The back of the paper was sticky—Nic had clearly ripped it off a telegraph pole. Why? Had she seen the dog and planned to call the owners? But no, underneath this poster was another: a poodle this time. Below, a lost budgie, a tabby, a Persian. Dogs, birds, cats all the way down. The thought hit Lena like a fist to the chest: had Nic taken all these animals, kept the ‘lost’ posters the way a serial killer collects newspaper clippings of their crimes? Were there live or—Jesus, no—dead animals hidden somewhere in this house?

Calm down.

Checking with you as promised: can I chuck the lost pet posters on kitchen table?

The phone rang immediately. Nic, panting as though she’d run flights of stairs: ‘Leave all that, Lena. I need it.’

‘Some of these notices look years old. What do you need them for?’

Heavy breaths. ‘What if I see one of the pets? I won’t know who to call!’

‘But—’

‘Lena, they’re out there. Lost. Alone. Probably hungry. How will I know who to call if I find them? Please. Think about it.’

This Nic—wild with panic, delusion and fear, panting, weeping, helpless, mad—this Nic she could imagine in this house. This Nic she had never met.

‘Okay, yes. I get it. It’s fine. I’ll leave them. How are you feeling today?’

‘This whole thing is so stupid. You shouldn’t be there. You don’t know what you’re doing. Please, just leave it, okay? Please.’ ‘Yes, yes. Of course. Whatever you want. I’m sorry I upset you. Try to calm down. Drink some water. Maybe have a sleep. It’s all fine, here.’

‘Will you leave?’

‘Leave?’

‘My things. My house. I need you to leave, Lena. I can’t bear it.’

‘Okay.’

‘Do you promise?’

‘I promise. Don’t worry.’

She hung up, pushed the stack of posters into a garbage bag, started on the next pile.