SweetFreak

  But why would he go to all those lengths? I frown, trying to work it back to the start. Taylor told me that he blocked Amelia after they split up because she was pestering him online. Which was exactly the time SweetFreak started sending messages. That surely can’t be a coincidence. Suppose instead of just blocking Amelia he also sent her nasty messages to get back at her for annoying him? Breaking up her friendship with me would have just been part of the revenge. All of which he totally got away with . . .

  Until, perhaps, Amelia discovered what he had done.

  My breath catches in my throat. Yes. It makes sense now: if Amelia recently found out Taylor was SweetFreak, she might well have called him out on it. Perhaps she even said she was going to tell everyone. How far would Taylor have gone to stop her? Under those circumstances it’s not hard to imagine him totally losing his temper – or getting violent.

  I shiver at the thought. And yet it doesn’t seem so impossible as it would have once. People are capable of anything if pushed far enough. Look at me. I could never have imagined just a few months ago that I would run away from home and end up sleeping in a derelict house.

  As for Taylor framing me . . . it would have taken a clear head and some quick thinking to pull it all together, but if he’d overheard Jamie and me on the doorstep talking about going to Bow Wood, he could have easily arranged to meet Amelia there too. Then all he’d have had to do – after he’d attacked her – was make that phone call claiming I’d been arguing with Amelia at the cliff edge.

  It all seems to fit.

  The only thing I don’t understand is why he’d want to hurt me when he barely knew me back in September, and then go out with me months afterwards. Or perhaps he’s never really cared what happened to me either way . . . perhaps all I’ve ever been is collateral damage.

  I mull it over as the grey sheets at the window start to lighten. They are patchy with stains. Mum would be shocked to see them, even more shocked to see me here, lying under a grubby blanket surrounded by strangers. As I lie in the dark, my fears threaten to overwhelm me: for Amelia and for myself.

  It’s a long time before I fall asleep.

  25

  I wake with a start to find bright winter sunlight streaming in through the window. I squint at the glare and a figure moves to block the stream of light. Tommo is staring down at me. I’m suddenly aware that there are other people beside him. I look around. Four men and two women – none of whom I recognise from last night – are watching me.

  Gasping for breath I scramble to sit up, scrabbling back across the room.

  ‘What do you make of our commune?’ Tommo asks.

  I gaze up at him. He’s smiling, though not in a kind way. One of the guys he’s with laughs.

  ‘What’s going on?’ It’s Seti, pushing her way between the laughing guy and the woman next to him. She glances down at me. ‘You OK, Carey?’

  I nod, relieved to see her. Where is Blue? I glance around the room. Blue and all the other people who were here last night appear to have vanished.

  ‘I was just asking Carey what she thinks of the place,’ Tommo says, a touch defensively.

  I sense the atmosphere changing, the others hanging back, watching Tommo and Seti. Tommo’s in charge, that’s obvious, but Seti seems like a leader sort of person too, a challenge to Tommo’s authority.

  ‘I’m sure Carey’s happy to have had a roof over her head,’ Seti says with a haughty shrug. ‘Aren’t you, Carey?’

  ‘Yes, er, I am, er . . . thank you.’

  ‘Any other thoughts?’ Tommo asks lightly.

  Seti folds her arms, shaking her head at Tommo.

  ‘It’s . . . interesting to be here,’ I say, trying to think of something to say that will satisfy Tommo and show my loyalty to Seti who is trying to defend me.

  A murmur of laughter, not unfriendly, ripples around the group.

  ‘So what’s so fascinating about us?’ Tommo asks.

  ‘For Pete’s sake,’ Seti mutters.

  I look from her to Tommo. Where on earth is Blue?

  I clear my throat. ‘Um, well one thing is that everyone has interesting names.’

  The others roar with laughter. I blush. That sounded stupid.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Blue strides over, pushing into the group to stand beside Seti.

  Feeling braver now that Blue is here, I stand up.

  ‘Just saying hello to our newest housemate.’ Tommo turns and strides away.

  Blue looks suspiciously around the group. ‘I’ve made some breakfast,’ he says to me. ‘It’s next door.’

  He takes my hand and leads me out of the room.

  More laughter erupts behind us. Blue’s face is flushed with irritation. ‘I’m sorry they were hassling you,’ he says.

  ‘They weren’t all,’ I say. ‘Seti actually stood up for me.’

  Blue nods. ‘Seti’s OK. That is, I don’t agree with all that property is theft rubbish she believes in—’

  ‘Property is theft?’

  ‘Yeah, but she’s been good to me,’ Blue says as we reach the room across the landing. ‘And she’s not afraid of Tommo.’

  We go into the next room. It’s very different from the one in which I spent the night. There are actual mattresses on the floor, for a start, and a big TV in front of the far wall. A cookery programme is on at low volume. Nobody is watching it. Tattoo-face and her friend are sitting on a rug next to the TV, talking quietly. Two guys squat beside them, setting up an Xbox. The floor is littered with empty beer cans and food wrappers. There’s a low table in the middle with a kettle and a collection of mugs. Steam rises out of two of them, next to a plate of buttered toast.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say to Blue, walking over and picking up one of the mugs.

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you took sugar in your tea,’ Blue says. ‘There’s a bag on the table.’

  ‘You’re such a host,’ Seti giggles from the door. She must have followed us across the landing.

  Blue scowls and joins me by the table. The guys setting up the Xbox start arguing over which cable plugs into the big TV. Seti comes over and takes a slice of toast. I sip at my tea, wondering how long I’ll be able to stay here. It’s not particularly that I want to stay, but at least there’s food and shelter here. And I don’t want to think about the future.

  ‘It’s her!’ Tattoo-face’s voice cuts across all the others in the room. She turns to me, her arm outstretched, her finger pointing. ‘It’s you! Look!’

  She turns back to the TV. Everyone else follows her gaze, including me.

  She’s right. There’s a picture of me on the screen, beside the programme’s presenter.

  ‘Sssh,’ Tattoo-face snatches up the remote control and the volume rises. I recognise the local news programme, one that Mum sometimes watches. The presenter is speaking:

  ‘A warrant is out for the arrest of local schoolgirl Carey Logan, wanted by the police in connection with the disappearance of fourteen-year-old Amelia Wilson.’ The presenter carries on talking, explaining how I ran away from the police and giving a number, plastered across the screen, for anyone with information on my whereabouts to call.

  The room falls silent. Beside me, Blue is staring at the screen, his mouth open and a piece of half-eaten toast forgotten in his hand. Everyone else is looking at me, their eyes wide.

  Painful thoughts thunder against my skull:

  Amelia is still missing.

  The police are ramping up their efforts to find me.

  Everyone at the squat now knows why I’m here.

  ‘You’re on the run from the pigs?’ The sophisticated drawl has gone from Seti’s voice. ‘You?’

  I gulp. ‘I didn’t have anything to do with Amelia going missing,’ I bleat, feeling a guilty flush creeping up my neck.

  Blue gulps down his toast. ‘Course you didn’t.’ He stares at me, a look of naked astonishment on his face. ‘But still . . .’

  ‘You’re not the only one here in trouble with the police,’
Tattoo-face snarls.

  ‘It’s not a competition,’ Seti snaps. ‘Well it just goes to show. You never really know about people.’ She sounds almost impressed, as if I’ve gone up in her estimation.

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ I repeat.

  ‘We know,’ Blue says stoutly.

  ‘Yeah, you’re safe from the pigs here,’ Seti says. ‘Isn’t she?’ She glares around the room, her eyes resting on Tattoo-face a moment longer than on anyone else.

  ‘Course.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Voices echo around me.

  ‘No one’s turning Carey over to the cops,’ Blue adds emphatically.

  ‘You and I need to talk.’ Seti prods me lightly on the arm. ‘Everyone else: out!’

  I expect Tattoo-face to argue, but she gets up and leaves without a word.

  ‘She won’t say anything, will she?’ I ask.

  ‘Not if she wants to stay on in this squat,’ Seti says.

  The room is empty now, apart from Seti, me and Blue.

  ‘So what happened, Carey?’ Seti asks. ‘With this Amelia girl? Seriously.’

  ‘I was framed,’ I explain, figuring my only option is to tell the truth. A bunch of lies will almost certainly tie my tongue in knots. ‘Amelia is . . . was my best friend and she was being bullied online by this weirdo. It kept getting worse and then there was a death threat and she . . . she kind of flipped out. Anyway, someone made it look like I’d sent the threat from my laptop, but I didn’t. Then there was another incident . . . and basically Amelia’s been off school for months and yesterday she went missing and someone made an anonymous call to the police, saying that he’d seen me arguing with her just before she vanished. Which I swear I wasn’t doing, I didn’t even see her yesterday. But the police don’t believe me and were going to arrest me and . . .’ I hold my arms out in a gesture of helplessness.

  ‘You gave the cops the slip,’ Seti says.

  ‘Cool,’ Blue adds.

  ‘My sister helped,’ I acknowledge.

  ‘So who made the call about you, pretending you’d been arguing with Amelia?’ Seti asks.

  ‘I don’t know for sure,’ I say.

  ‘Logically whoever it was must be the person who’s been framing you all along,’ Blue points out.

  Seti nods. ‘Yeah.’

  I nod. Do they really believe me? After so many months of being mistrusted it’s hard to accept their support is genuine.

  ‘That’s what I figured. I think it might have been Amelia’s ex-boyfriend, Taylor,’ I say, eager to test out my theory. ‘He dumped her just before she was sent the threat. I reckon Amelia worked out it was him who was behind everything and went to confront him yesterday and he’s done . . . something to her to shut her up.’

  ‘Whoa.’ Seti is open-mouthed, her almond eyes alive with excitement. ‘You mean you think he’s killed her?’

  I shrug.

  Blue wrinkles his nose. ‘This Taylor . . . who is he? A guy our age? At your school?’

  ‘Yes, well no, he goes to Bamford House.’ I roll my eyes. ‘It’s a posh private school. Taylor messes people around a lot, someone told me that he once got another boy expelled. So it’s not the first time he’s framed someone . . .’

  ‘Scumbag,’ Seti breathes.

  Blue falls silent as Seti pesters me for more details. I tell her a little more, mostly about Taylor and how flaky and unreliable he is.

  ‘He’s from this rich family,’ I explain. ‘And I think he takes lots of things for granted, from money to people.’

  I’m too embarrassed to reveal that Taylor and I were dating. It’s partly because, for some reason, I really don’t want Blue to imagine I still have feelings for Taylor. But it’s also because I don’t want either him or Seti to realise how stupid I’ve been in letting Taylor manipulate me. So I simply say that Taylor and I were friends. However, I can see Seti’s sharp eyes narrowing as I speak and wonder if she’s guessing the truth. Blue just frowns, pacing up and down.

  ‘What do you think, Blue?’ Seti asks at last.

  ‘It sounds far-fetched to me,’ he grunts. ‘I mean why would—’

  ‘Carey!’ The door flies open. Tattoo-face stands in the doorway. ‘Tommo just called the police,’ she says. ‘You need to leave. Now.’

  26

  ‘Tommo called the police?’ I gasp.

  Blue spins around. ‘Are you sure?’

  Tattoo-face nods. ‘I overheard him boasting about it—’

  ‘We need to get out of here,’ Seti cuts in. She grabs my arm.

  ‘OK,’ Tattoo-face says. ‘I’ll keep Tommo talking, give you a chance to get out without him seeing.’ She vanishes.

  I grab my shoes and tug them on my feet.

  ‘Wait,’ Blue says. ‘Perhaps you should talk to the police.’

  ‘What?’ I stare up at him.

  ‘If you didn’t do anything wrong . . . why not let the cops sort it out?’

  ‘You have to be kidding.’ Seti’s eyes widen dramatically. ‘You heard what Carey said, it’s this rich guy Taylor, he’s set her up and done something to her friend and—’

  ‘You don’t know any of that,’ Blue interrupts. ‘Come on, it’s crazy. This Taylor might be an idiot, but . . . Anyway, you’re better off telling the police what you think he did, letting them work it out. If you’re innocent, you’ll be OK.’

  Seti snorts. ‘Like you were, you mean?’

  Blue glares at her. ‘I’m just—’

  ‘Excuse me,’ I interrupt. ‘But it’s my decision.’

  Seti and Blue look at me. Blue’s expression is one of exasperated concern, but Seti’s eyes are wide with excitement.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ she asks.

  I think it through. A while ago I would have totally agreed with Blue about trusting the police to work out who was setting me up, but I’ve lived for months with no one believing a thing I’ve said and I have no faith that anyone in authority will listen to anything I have to say. They certainly haven’t up to now. That’s why I ran away in the first place. Plus, I already mentioned Taylor to the police and they totally dismissed the idea he might be SweetFreak.

  ‘If we’re leaving we need to go now,’ Seti urges.

  ‘Don’t go, Carey.’ Blue touches my arm. ‘Please, you haven’t given the police a chance to investigate Amelia’s disappearance. Whatever happened, there will be clues, things the police can follow up on. If it was Taylor there’ll be evidence somewhere – he’s only a kid, he can’t have covered all his tracks. And by running away you make yourself look—’

  ‘You are such a hypocrite, Blue,’ Seti blurts out. She turns to me, all impatience. ‘Well?’

  ‘I’m leaving.’ I throw Blue an apologetic glance. He still looks deeply concerned. ‘I have to go. I’m sorry. Thanks for everything.’ I hurry out of the room, Seti at my heels.

  We fly down the stairs. I’m half hoping Blue will follow us, but he doesn’t. Seti leads me along the street and into an area of Cornmouth I don’t know at all. It’s a bright, sunny day and I’m soon warm, jogging along in my jumper. The roads are busier here, with little shops and cafes. Several heads turn as Seti passes. It’s not just how pretty she is, it’s also her air of absolute self-confidence. Her conviction that I’m right to run and the way she’s striding purposefully ahead give me a new strength. I don’t know how or where, but somehow I will get through this.

  We stop under a little stone bridge. There’s a sign explaining the maximum height of vehicles that can pass. Seti leans against the wall under the sign and blows out her breath.

  I lean over, panting, then straighten up. ‘Why would Tommo grass me up?’ I ask.

  Seti shrugs. ‘Probably thinks you’re a privileged cow who doesn’t deserve a place in his house.’

  ‘His house?’ I ask. ‘I thought it was a squat?’

  ‘It is, technically,’ Seti explains. ‘That is, we’re not all supposed to be living there, but it actually belongs to Tommo’s grandda
d. Tommo’s parents let him stay there because they don’t know what else to do with him.’ She snorts. ‘He’s as posh as you are.’

  ‘I’m not posh.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Seti pushes herself up from the wall. ‘Tommo likes to pretend it’s a proper squat but it isn’t really, not for him. I sussed him on day one. I haven’t told anyone, not even Blue.’

  ‘Where are we going to go?’ I ask.

  Seti thinks for a moment. ‘You know, Blue was right about one thing.’

  I raise my eyebrows.

  ‘This guy who set you up?’

  ‘Taylor?’

  ‘Yeah, like Blue said, if he’s guilty of hurting your friend there’ll be evidence somewhere. Taylor’s your age, right?’

  I nod.

  ‘So he’s an amateur, unless . . . what’s his background?’

  ‘He lives in a big house in East Cornmouth, his parents just separated, he’s got a younger brother called Blake—’

  Seti holds up a hand to stop me talking. ‘You know where he lives?’

  ‘Yes, but he’s not there. His whole family is away.’

  ‘If you could take a look at his things, his room, do you think there might be evidence there? Anything at all?’

  ‘I guess,’ I say. ‘But, like I said, his family is away which makes it impossible to get inside and snoop around.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ Seti says, a mischievous grin on her face. ‘If the house is empty, it makes snooping around all the easier.’

  ‘You mean break in?’

  ‘Why not? It’s for a good cause. Listen to my idea at least.’

  We stroll around the edges of Cornmouth, while Seti explains her plan for getting inside Taylor’s house. She brushes away my concerns about house alarms and nosy neighbours and causing damage by breaking doors and windows.