Page 59

Noah shushes me and turns the volume up.

“… still searching the woods for further bodies. So far, all victims have been white males with blonde hair and blue eyes, aged between seventeen and thirty. Police forces across the United Kingdom are currently trying to locate Shane Townsend, a thirty-year-old male from Reigate, Surrey. Officers urgently need to speak to Mr Townsend. It is believed he may be travelling with his stepfather, Dean Worrall, and that the pair were last seen crossing the border into Scotland.”

“What the fuck is that?” I say, stunned.

Noah doesn’t answer me, staring at the television with his mouth hanging open.

“Who’s Shane, Noah?”

He turns to look at me, wide-eyed. “I don’t know …”

How can he not fucking know? He’s lived with Bailey for years. The person on the television looks identical—so much so that I could be convinced it is Bailey. But he’s been here for an entire month … other than the few days he went back to Cumbria, but Theo was with him then. It can’t be him.

Unless …

“Does Bailey have a twin?”

“I don’t know!” Noah yells.

“Okay … okay, fuck. I’ll call Theo, you go get dressed.”

Noah stares at the picture on the news a moment longer, then rushes upstairs. I hold my phone to my ear, counting the seconds until Theo picks up.

“The person you are calling cannot be reached. Please leave a message after the tone.”

“Shit.”

When we get to Theo’s cottage, the door is ajar. Unease crawls up the back of my neck as I push it open and we’re met with silence. Noah tries to shove past me, but I grab his arm to stop him. He falls into step behind me, his hand pressed to the small of my back. The warmth from it eases my nerves as we step into the living room.

“I’ll look upstairs,” Noah says.

I shake my head. “No, stay with me.”

There’s a sickly-sweet smell permeating the room that makes my stomach lurch. It gets stronger the further into the room we go, until I notice a box on the coffee table. Noah peers around my arm as I lift the lid.

“Fucking hell.”

“Is that a mouse?” he asks incredulously.

I dare to look again and see a photo lying on top of—yep, that is absolutely a mouse. Jesus Christ. I snatch the photo away from the rotting carcass. On one side Theo and Bailey are kissing on the dance floor, and on the other, there’s a note scrawled in black ink.

Found you, Little Mouse. You should have left him alone.

With an awful feeling in my gut, I pull my phone out of my pocket, tapping the keypad three times. I drop the photo and run upstairs, waiting for the call to connect.

“999, what’s your emergency?”

“Police, I have information on Shane Townsend. I think he’s in Portnalong, Skye,” I say breathlessly.

“One moment, please, I’ll pass you through.”

While on hold, I push open Theo’s bedroom door, fearing the worst. My heart pounds at the destruction—the bedsheets have been dragged across the floor, and the bedside lamp is smashed into pieces.

“Hello? Hello, can you hear me?”

“Phone!” Noah nudges me.

I snap out of my daze and put the phone back to my ear. “Hello, yes, I’m here.”