‘Keep going, Amber, quickly.’ Davina’s voice is ahead of me now. She must already be at the lounge door. My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness – the streetlights are casting a small amount of light through the closed curtains – but not enough. I continue to fumble, hoping and praying my fingers don’t make contact with flesh – don’t touch whoever is doing this.

They could be here in the room with us now.

Watching.

Waiting.

I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. I should’ve gone to Jo and Keeley’s with the boys, like Jo wanted me to. Or gone to Richard’s like I told the boys I was doing.

But could this be Richard?

I don’t believe he’d go this far to make me want to move more quickly. It’s absurd.

No. The answer must be closer to home.

‘Davina? Where are you?’ I call out.

‘Here! I’m waiting for you.’

The voice sounds strangely disconnected – almost like a recording.

Tendrils of fear spread through my body like bindweed overtaking a garden. I’m suddenly consumed by it. Rendering me useless. I stop moving and stay very still.

‘Amber? Come on. You need to get out of here.’

Finley’s words come to me. When we were talking about being detectives and how we could catch whoever was coming into our home, he’d said: We should go full-on Home Alone on them.

I might not be able to do that, but I can be strong and hold firm.

If my eight-year-old can be brave, then so can I.

‘No, Davina,’ I shout. ‘I’m not being frightened out of my own home.’

I’ll confront who’s doing this to me. Find out once and for all why.

This is Stockwood. No one is going to commit murder just to get someone’s house – they’d never be able to cover it up.

I don’t entirely believe that, but right now, it’s all that’s keeping me from running.

Chapter Eighty-Six

Amber

‘I’m trying to help you, Amber. That’s what I’ve been trying to do for weeks.’

‘Then come back into the lounge and we’ll face this together.’

The lights come back on.

My muscles freeze. Has it been Davina all along? But she wasn’t near the fuse box when the lights went out.

She’s not doing it alone.

I race out to the hallway and face her. ‘Why, Davina? How?’ I shriek, disbelief rattling around my mind.

‘Just wait a minute – before you get all judgey, hear me out.’

‘I don’t think I want to, Davina.’ Shock mixed with disappointment seeps through me.

‘This was me,’ she says with a wave of her arm. ‘Here, now. I’ve done this. But it hasn’t been. I’m not the one who’s been messing with your head, moving stuff in your house. Listening to you. Watching you.’