More emails had come in with attached photos from the memorial, and the notifications on her announcements had reached into the many thousands now. Pip had just muted them, now that the trolls had found them. I killed Jamie Reynolds, said one of the grey blank profile pictures. Another: Who will look for you when you’re the one who disappears?

The bell sounded again, but this time it was accompanied by Cara’s voice.

‘Hey,’ she said, pulling out the chair opposite Pip. ‘Ravi said you were in here. Just saw him as I finished up Chalk Road.’

‘You out of posters?’ asked Pip.

‘Yeah. But that’s not why I need to talk to you.’ Cara’s voice lowered conspiratorially.

‘What’s up?’ Pip whispered, following suit.

‘So, as I was putting up the posters, looking at Jamie’s face, reading what he was wearing, I . . . I dunno.’ Cara leaned forward. ‘I know I was really drunk and don’t remember much of the night, but I keep getting this feeling that . . . well, I think I saw Jamie there that night.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Pip hissed. ‘At the calamity party?’

Cara nodded, leaning so far forward that she could no longer be actually sitting. ‘I mean, I don’t have a clear memory of it. It’s more like a déjà vu thing. But picturing him in that outfit, I swear he walked by me at the party. I was drunk, so maybe I didn’t think anything of it at the time, or maybe I didn’t realize but – hey, don’t look at me like that! I’m sure that maybe I maybe saw him there.’

‘Sure that maybe you maybe you saw him there?’ Pip repeated.

‘OK, I’m obviously not sure.’ She frowned. ‘But I think he was.’ She finally sat back, widening her eyes at Pip, inviting her to speak.

Pip closed the lid of her laptop. ‘Well, OK, let’s say you did see Jamie there. What the hell would Jamie be doing at a party full of eighteen-year olds? He’s twenty-four and probably the only people he knows our age are us, Connor’s friends.’

‘Dunno.’

‘Was he speaking to anyone?’ Pip asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Cara said, fingers going to her temples. ‘I think I only remember him walking past me at some point.’

‘But if he was there . . .’ Pip began, trailing off as her thoughts lost their shape.

‘It’s really strange,’ Cara finished for her.

‘Really strange.’

Cara paused to take a sip of Pip’s coffee. ‘So, what do we do about it?’

‘Well, fortunately there are lots of other witnesses from the party who might be able to corroborate what you think you saw. And if it’s true, then I guess we know where Jamie went after the memorial.’

Pip texted Ant and Lauren first, asking if they’d seen Jamie at the party. Ant’s reply came in after two minutes. They were clearly together as he answered for both of them:

Nah we didn’t, weren’t there for long though. Why would Jamie have been there? X

‘Ant and Lauren not noticing something other than each other, how unlike them,’ Cara said sarcastically.

Pip texted back: You have Stephen Thompson’s number, right? Can I have it please. Urgent. No kiss.

The party had been at Stephen’s house, and even though Pip still very much disliked him – from when she’d gone undercover at a calamity party last year to find information on the drug dealer Howie Bowers, and Stephen had forcibly tried to kiss her – she had to set that dislike aside for now.

When Ant finally sent Stephen’s number through, Pip downed the rest of her coffee and called him, throwing a quick shush sign Cara’s way. Cara pulled her fingers across her lips, zipping them shut but sliding closer to listen in.

Stephen picked up on the fourth ring, a confused sounding ‘Hello?’

‘Hi, Stephen,’ Pip said. ‘It’s Pip. Fitz-Amobi.’

‘Oh hey,’ Stephen said, his tone changing. Softer and deeper.

Pip rolled her eyes at Cara.

‘What can I do for you?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know if you’ve seen any of the posters around town –’

‘Oh, my mum actually just mentioned seeing those. Complained about them being “unsightly”.’ He made a sound Pip could only describe as a guffaw. ‘They something to do with you?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, in as bright a voice as she could muster. ‘So you know Connor Reynolds in our year? Well, his older brother, Jamie, went missing on Friday night and everyone’s really worried.’

‘Shit,’ Stephen said.

‘You hosted a calamity party at your house on Friday night, didn’t you?’

‘Were you here?’ Stephen asked.

‘Unfortunately not,’ Pip said. Well, she’d been to the outside, to pick up a drunken, sobbing Cara. ‘But there are rumours that Jamie Reynolds was at the party, and I wondered if you remembered seeing him there? Or heard anyone else say they did?’

‘Are you doing, like, a new investigate-y thing?’ he asked.

She ignored the question. ‘Jamie’s twenty-four, he’s about five nine, has dark blonde almost-brown hair and blue eyes. He was –’

‘Yeah,’ Stephen cut her off. ‘Think I might have seen him there. I remember walking past some guy I didn’t know in the living room. He looked a bit older, I presumed he was with one of the girls. Wearing a shirt, a dark red shirt.’

‘Yes.’ Pip sat up straighter, nodding at Cara. ‘That sounds like Jamie. I’m sending a photo to your phone now, can you confirm that’s who you saw?’ Pip lowered her phone to find Jamie’s photo, the one from the poster, and sent it to Stephen.

‘That’s him.’ Stephen’s voice was a little distant through the speaker as he held his phone up to look at the screen.

‘Do you remember what time you saw him?’

‘Ah, not really,’ he said. ‘I think it was early on, maybe nine, ten-ish, but I’m not sure. Only saw him that one time.’

‘What was he doing?’ asked Pip. ‘Was he talking to anyone? Drinking?’

‘No, didn’t see him talking to anyone. Don’t think he had a drink in his hand either. Think he was just standing there, watching. Kinda creepy when you think about it.’

Pip felt like reminding Stephen that he was one to talk about creepy. But she held her tongue. ‘What time did people turn up to your house? The memorial finished around half eight, did most people go straight to yours?’

‘Yeah. I live, like, less than ten minutes away, so most people walked straight from the common. So, you said you’re, like, investigating again, right? Is this to go on your podcast? Because,’ Stephen lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘well, my mum doesn’t know I had a party; she was away on a spa weekend. I blamed the smashed vases and drink stains on our dog. And the party got shut down by the police at, like, one; a neighbour must have called in a noise complaint. But I don’t want my mum to find out about the party, so could you not –’

‘Which police officer came to shut it down?’ Pip interrupted.

‘Oh, that da Silva guy. Just told everyone to go home. So, you won’t mention the party, right? On your podcast?’