As my eyes ran down the list, I heard a crack outside, a rustle of leaves, and jumped. I ran to the front window, peeking out. Nothing more than the beginnings of snow. I ran over the list again.

Someone had been in here, there was no denying it – even if everything else could be explained, objects didn’t disappear on their own, didn’t simply vanish into thin air.

Until this morning, I’d never seen a single sign of forced entry. The person who’d taken these things had to have a key. The person who’d taken my knife, who’d stabbed John, that person had to have a way in here that did not require breaking windows.

Davis had denied even knowing who John was.

What if it hadn’t been him after all?

I rushed to the bedroom, grabbed my phone. I plugged it in, praying it still worked, and after five minutes of charging, miraculously, it did. Shards catching beneath my fingers, I dialed Ellie.

It went to voice mail. I dialed her again. Another voice mail. I hung up, dialed her again. And again. And again.

Finally, she answered. ‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ she said in lieu of a greeting, her voice icy. ‘Davis told me everything after the last time you called. I never want to talk to you – or see you – again.’

‘You won’t have to,’ I said. ‘I promise. Just tell me one thing.’

‘Oh my god, you just won’t stop, will you? I’m hanging up –’

‘Ellie, please. Just tell me this, I’m begging you. When did you tell Davis you ran into me?’

‘What?’ she snapped.

‘Was it right away? Like, did you call him as soon as you left the restaurant where you saw me?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I told him a couple of days after I got home. I was still trying to figure out what to do with your story.’

‘When was that?’ I asked.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’

‘It’s important,’ I said, my voice desperate. ‘When?’

‘I got back on Monday,’ she said. ‘I think I told him on Wednesday. Yeah, it was Wednesday night, after we did yoga together.’

‘You’re sure?’ I asked.

‘Jesus, yes, I’m sure. Not that it changes any –’

‘Thank you,’ I interrupted her. ‘And I’m sorry for everything.’

I hung up. Then I opened my calendar app. Monday was the day of the hike. Wednesday was two full days after John disappeared.

Unless Ellie was lying to me, and I’d known her long enough to know she was a shit liar, Davis couldn’t have killed John.

I shook my head. I’d been so sure, so goddamn sure, but it wasn’t possible. It hadn’t been him at all.

So how had someone gotten into the cottage?

And why had they taken my things?