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‘Hi, Mary.’

It was Beth, a woman in her sixties who worked in an organic health food store.

‘Hi,’ Mary said. ‘I’m just enjoying this sun.’

‘I was as well.’ Beth made a mock frown. ‘But they needed me in the shop until we close.’

‘Duty calls,’ Mary said. ‘Nice to see you.’

She headed out towards the town green. To her left was Spring Street, where she had seen the first note. It was only three days ago, but it seemed like an eternity. She glanced towards the pole.

There was another note, in exactly the same place.

No, she thought. Don’t look at it. Ignore it and go home.

Yeah, right. There was no ignoring this. She walked towards the pole, her eyes fixed on the paper, her heart thumping.

As she got nearer, she could make out that the note was different to the others. It had a photo with some text underneath. She relaxed. It was a lost pet notice, not a note to her. That was the kind of thing that should be on posts and poles in the town.

She breathed out. Thank God it was not another one. She approached it, wondering whose pet was missing.

Then she saw the photo and stopped dead. She let out a cry, and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed.

The photo was of her.

She recognized it from her Facebook account. It had been taken earlier in the summer outside a bar in Portland. She was smiling at the camera, her hair shorter than usual after a haircut.

Missing Bitch

Our bitch, a forty-seven-year-old mongrel, has gone missing from our home on Porter Street.

If you see her please call the number below.

DO NOT APPROACH! She is not a friendly dog, but despite that we still love her and are desperate for her to return home. We need to discipline her to make sure this will never happen again. Bitches like this need to be put in their place.

Thank you for any help you can give us in finding our bitch.

Otis and Sally Jordan

The world narrowed to a point. For a brief moment things had seemed normal: a late summer evening, warm sun, the prospect of some time together with Ryan.

But this had removed any semblance of normality. She had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was she felt utterly at its mercy.

Wolf Cut

Mary ripped the paper from the pole. She wanted to shred it and scatter the pieces all over Barrow, so it could never be reassembled, but she knew she needed to keep it intact. She didn’t know how anyone would be able to use it to discover anything, but it was evidence. She folded it and put in her bag.

And that was when it hit her.

She started to shake, her legs suddenly weak and unsteady. There was a bench nearby and she started towards it, but when she tried to take a step her legs buckled and she was overcome by a wave of dizziness. She could not focus, the edges of her vision darkening, but she had enough awareness to realize that she would not make it to the bench.

And if she did not sit down, she would collapse.

She sank to her haunches, her eyes closed, then sat heavily on the ground. She leaned her back against the pole, letting her head slump forward, her chin resting on her chest. She closed her eyes, her head spinning. Her breath came in short bursts, her heart racing.

‘Hello?’

She barely heard the voice. It seemed distant, as though coming from a dream.