‘No. Definitely Brenda. Who’s Andrea?’

‘Someone we’re seeking in connection with the case,’ Wynne said. ‘I need to tell you—’

‘Wait,’ Roland said. ‘That’s not all. The really weird thing is that Alice is the girl in the photos her friends sent, but Brenda – well, she’s Alice.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Nadia said. ‘How is Brenda Alice?’

‘You know I said Alice didn’t look like the Alice we know? Well, she does look like Brenda. It’s unmistakeable. Alice – the Alice Tom is married to – is really Brenda.’

Nadia muted the phone.

‘Holy fucking shit,’ she said. ‘That’s what Andrea Petersen did. She took another identity from someone – Brenda – and then ran into the real Alice Barnes.’

‘And took her identity too,’ Wynne said. ‘Probably violently.’

‘Hello?’ Roland said. ‘Are you there?’

Nadia unmuted her phone. ‘Yes. We were talking for a moment.’

‘I sent it to Tom and asked him what was going on, but he brushed me off. It felt weird, so I decided to go up and see for myself. It cost me a job interview, so I hope it’s worth it.’

‘A what?’ Wynne said.

‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter.’

‘Can you send the email?’ Nadia said.

‘I’m driving.’

‘That’s OK,’ Wynne said. ‘Just this once.’

‘OK. Hang on.’

A few moments later the email arrived. Nadia opened the photo, and muted the phone again.

‘Brenda’ was a blonde-haired version of Andrea Petersen.

‘That confirms it,’ Wynne muttered. ‘Andrea is Brenda is Alice. We have to get there now.’

‘Where are you now, Mr Sark?’

‘I’m close to the house. Maybe thirty—’ his phone cut out.

‘Mr Sark?’ Wynne said. ‘Hello? Can you hear me?’

There was no reply, then, a moment later, he was back on the line.

‘Are you there?’ he said. ‘I’m cutting out. Reception’s not great up here.’

‘Mr Sark,’ Wynne said. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to the house.’

‘Why? Is something wrong?’

‘Something’s very wrong,’ Wynne said. ‘Alice Sark is not who you think she is. She’s very dangerous.’

‘Dangerous? How’s she—’ His voice cut out again, then a few moments later, he was back.

‘How’s she dangerous?’ he said.

‘That doesn’t matter for now,’ Wynne said. ‘Can you give us the address? That’s the most important piece of information.’

‘Of course. It’s—’

The line went quiet.

‘Mr Sark?’

There was no reply.

‘Try him again,’ Wynne said.

Nadia dialled the number. It went straight to voicemail.

‘Shit,’ she said. ‘We lost him.’

Stockton Heath, December 2013

Brenda

It was the eve of Christmas Eve, and she was meeting Mandy in Manchester to do some final Christmas shopping.

What a fucking torture that was. But it was what people did, and she had to fit in.

She grabbed her car keys and phone. Her phone buzzed. It was a message from Mandy.