I am on my fifth vodka and soda when I finally finish reading through all of the papers. There is nothing new there, except at one point they mention the fact that Jason Evans’ parents owned a bike shop. Knowing how many people make it out of here, I feel confident that his parents still have the shop, and that Jason is probably still around. I make my next drink a Coke and order myself a lasagne from the lunch menu to try and soak up some of the drink I have had already. Maybe Jason can tell me something the papers didn’t know. He’s one of the few people connected to the old case that might know something he’d never shared. Might have seen something. Maybe he would open up to me.

As soon as I’m finished with my lunch I leave the pub and walk towards the bike shop. Until now I have been avoiding speaking to anyone I knew, for fear of what they might remember about me, what they might remember about that summer. Maybe the world didn’t fall apart for them in the same way it did for me, but that summer was different. We could all feel it in the air at the time. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was something else.

Chapter Seventeen

As I suspected, the bike shop is still there, even though the last mention of it in the newspaper was seven years ago, as far as I could see. The place isn’t how I remember it. It was always a dingy, slightly creepy-looking shop. Jason’s parents were much older than most other people’s and he had an older brother who sold pot who I read in the papers had died in a drink-driving accident up on the back road into town. People used to steer clear of the bike shop for those reasons, and a few more. They were a strange family and if there’s one thing people don’t like around here, it’s anything that ruins the image. The bike shop looked good now, fresh paint on the outside, very slick on the inside with expensive gear mounted on the walls. I take a deep breath before pushing the door open and going inside, a little bell over the entrance announcing my presence.

A man appears from the back of the shop. I can see instantly that it’s Jason and I catch my breath.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Are you Jason Evans?’ I ask as I get closer. I can see that he is stoned and I can smell the faintest aroma of marijuana coming off his clothes. He was obviously out back smoking when I came into the shop.

‘Who’s asking?’ he asks cautiously.

‘I wanted to ask you some questions about the disappearance of Hannah Torrence.’