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‘And you think that means he wrote the note?’

‘It makes sense, doesn’t it?’ Mary said. She caught Ryan’s eye. ‘What other explanation is there?’

‘I don’t know.’ He put his hand on her upper arm. ‘Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?’

‘Isn’t it only paranoia when the threat’s not real?’

‘But why? It’s probably just a coincidence. Maybe he was out smoking weed, or something.’

‘He’s not a fifteen-year-old!’ she said, her voice rising. ‘Someone saw me read that note on the pole, and now they’re putting notes in my purse. You don’t think that’s threatening?’ Before he could reply she carried on. ‘And then our new neighbour – who was randomly at the library last night – happens to be in the same car park as me at dawn, then lies about why. You don’t think that’s suspicious? You don’t think it’s him?’

‘If it’s him,’ Ryan said. ‘He’s blown his cover. If he wanted to hide in the shadows he can’t do that now, can he?’

‘Maybe he wants me to know.’

‘Maybe.’ Ryan did not sound convinced. ‘But there’s still the question of why?’

‘What about the house?’ she said. ‘You remember what Joanie said? He paid well over asking, and he wanted this specific property. Why?’

‘You think he bought this house in order to be near you? That’s pretty extreme.’

‘I don’t know, Ryan!’ She glanced towards the stairs. She didn’t want Otis to wake up to the sound of his mom shouting. ‘I don’t know, but I don’t like it. And now he’s lying about his damned dog. I want to know what the hell is going on.’

Ryan hugged her. ‘It’s going to be OK,’ he said. ‘This is some weird episode that’s probably already over. I’m sure this is the last we’ll ever hear about it.’

One of the Good Guys

Mary knew she shouldn’t text and drive but whoever had made that rule didn’t have a teenage daughter, or at least not one like Sally. As far as Sally was concerned messages were the same as real-time conversation; she thought nothing of sending a message updating plans right until the last minute – and often beyond – and never mind whether it suited her parents, or anyone else.

Two Fridays ago Mary had come home to a houseful of teenagers – seven, or eight, at least, it wasn’t easy to be sure – to whom, she had learned, her daughter had promised dinner. Half of them were teenage boys, and Mary knew from Otis and his friends what that meant in terms of required calories.

When Mary took Sally aside – already the most humiliating thing she could possibly have done – and pointed out that she did not have sufficient food to provide dinner, Sally’s face took on an expression of profound disbelief.

I told you, she said.

This was simply not true.

You told me it would be you, Katie and Reya. I recall it very well, as you requested sushi, which I bought. I bought enough for the three of you.

That was this morning, Mom! Sally arranged her features into an expression that indicated equal parts disgust and shock at her mother’s stupidity. I sent you a message!

You didn’t. I didn’t see anything.

Check your phone!

There’s no message!

Check it!

Mary did. And there was a message. Sally had sent it a few minutes before Mary arrived home.

That’s not enough time, she said. And anyway, I can’t buy sushi for eight. It’s too expensive.

Sally snorted. You’re so anti-social.

And now, as Mary neared Katie’s house, there was another late-arriving message from her daughter.

Mom, i dont need a ride home