Gabby, who only found out about Alexa hiding money when I did, making me wonder if, deep down, she’s starting to doubt Otis, too.
Raindrops drum on the roof of my car as I sit behind the steering wheel. Kamal’s instructions to walk away circle my brain. I feel a glimmer of temptation to follow his advice, but I’m too invested. I see the strands of a story in the air around me. The rocky marriage, the best friend with a perhaps not-so-secret crush, the other best friend who hates the husband.
The characters of the story are changing, too, morphing the more I learn. Is Otis a worried husband, or someone else entirely? Is Gabby a loyal friend, or was she overtaken by a desire for more with Otis? Who is Sonya West, and what is her role in this twisted tale?
The question sits with me, beating in my chest like a second heart until I reach for my phone. I search through Alexa’s friends on Facebook until I find Sonya West.
Sonya’s profile picture is of her and Alexa. The timestamp tells me it was uploaded fourteen months ago. I can’t tell where they are thanks to the dark background, but they’re dressed up. Sonya has matched her lipstick to her pink dress. Alexa looks impossibly stylish in a boxy cream suit.
Moving past the photograph, I hunt for information on Sonya. Her ‘About Me’ section tells me she’s thirty-eight and works in marketing. Her relationship status reads ‘Separated’, and a flick through her profile shows all evidence of a partner has been erased. A messy divorce, indeed.
If I suspected Sonya was worried about Alexa before, her profile only confirms it. This morning alone she has shared four separate posts about her friend. Desperation seeps through every word in the latest.
My darling Lex hasn’t been home in days, and no one can tell me where she is! How is this okay?! Lex, if you’re reading this, PLEASE get in touch. I love you xx
There are almost fifty comments underneath expressing concern and support. Sonya has replied to each one. Her responses are full of details about how tough the situation is for her and dramatic phrases, but who am I to judge? If Sonya wants to appeal to the internet for comfort, let her. It’s not like she’s getting much support from Otis.
Before memories of Kamal’s warning talk me out of it, I send her a message.
Hi Sonya,
I’m a local from the village your friend Alexa Clarke lives in. I’m helping Otis look for her. To help do this, I’d like to know a little more about Alexa’s life. I was just with Otis and noticed you’d been calling, so I thought I’d reach out. Anything you can tell me that you think might help would be great.
Would you be up for a quick call?
Janine
The ‘Read’ notification appears under the message almost immediately. Seconds later so does the ellipsis indicating that Sonya is typing.
Her response speed proves one thing: Sonya West is more than a little concerned about her friend.
You were just with Otis? What did he say? Did he explain why he was ignoring my calls?
I chew my lip, not wanting to discuss Otis like this when I’m already going behind his back to contact Sonya.
Otis has been busy talking to the police. I’m sure he’ll get in touch soon. In the meantime, anything you can tell me about Alexa that could help with the search would be great.
My eyebrows dip, wondering if I need to explain more or if Sonya’s worry for Alexa is greater than her desire for answers about Otis.
Her reply confirms the latter is correct.
Fine, but forget a call – can we meet? There’s a LOT to talk about.
I’ve barely hit send on my response saying ‘sure’ before Sonya replies again.
The Blackwell Arms in Manchester, one hour?
Searching the pub online, I discover it’s a forty-five-minute drive away. My heart rate elevates at the idea of being so far from home and walking into a pub I’ve never been to before. I’m about to suggest we meet somewhere nearer when Sonya sends another message.
Please.
One word, six letters, and a tonne of terror contained inside it.
Confirming our meet-up, I set off towards The Blackwell Arms, ready to discover the truth about Otis and Alexa Clarke.
CHAPTER 24
The drive to Manchester is uneventful, but being so far from home still has me shaking. By the time I reach The Blackwell Arms, I’m damp browed and have bloody, teeth-shaped imprints on my bottom lip. Hardly the first impression I was going for, but I don’t have time for self-consciousness. Not when I see Sonya’s latest message.