‘Ellis is a kid. You’re a kid. He doesn’t know or understand what he wants and neither do you. And now you’re mixed up in something that never concerned you in the first place.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘You’re just a kid,’ she says to herself. ‘Listen. We’re all getting off the island today. The storm’s gonna knock us out, anyway, but if there’s anything to come back to, don’t. Please go home. Please don’t contact Ellis again.’

I don’t tell her that I won’t have a choice – though I almost say it because I don’t want her to think that she’s the one who scared me off. ‘Please. I really just came to see him. To apologize.’

Sylvia is quiet. ‘You thought he was here?’

I blink. ‘I … yes, I did.’

‘He wasn’t in his room this morning. I haven’t seen him since last night. I thought he was with you.’

My gut drops. ‘No. No, I – I haven’t seen him since last night, either.’

Sylvia stares at me for a moment longer, then swears under her hitching breath and rushes back into the kitchen.

What had Ellis said yesterday? That I’d made everything up. That he’d see for himself.

I bolt out of the Willowwood.

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 32

I text Peyton in case she knows something; she’s the only other one who might, who he might have confided in.

She replies almost immediately. Of course she does – it’s about Ellis.

Me: Ellis missing. Since yesterday. Have you seen him?

Peyton: Oh my god. I haven’t. Did you talk to Sylvia?

She calls but I can’t talk right now. I need to check first.

Peyton: Mona, what happened? Please please please pick up.

I pedal furiously to the No-Names because there is no fucking time to lose and I see a shape on the ground there, instinctively knowing what it is – Ellis’s bike, lying on its side, but no Ellis. No Ellis.

My mouth runs dry. Maybe he has just gone in? Sometime today? But no – Sylvia hasn’t seen him since last night. No one has.

I start towards the south side of the island, nearly killing myself along the way, three separate close run-ins with cars.

Ellis went into the woods. Ellis went into the woods and hasn’t come out.

I send my bike clattering to the ground when I arrive at the police station and crash through the front door and shout for Booker.

He comes hurrying out from the back, eyes wide with terror. I must have scared him. Good. I don’t remember the last time I was this afraid. He ought to be too. He doesn’t look good, face pale and shadowed.

‘I just got off the phone with Sylvia,’ Booker says, his tone, somehow, firm and measured. ‘Don’t worry, I know nobody’s seen Ellis.’