The Missing: The gripping psychological thriller that’s got everyone talking...

ICE9: Maybe it’s not how it seemed.

Jackdaw44: You’re taking the piss, right? You saw me. You saw what I did.

ICE9: That was stupid.

Jackdaw44: It was sick. I wish I’d seen the look on his face when he saw his car window. When he got home he told Mum that vandals did it. Ha. Ha. Ha. I’m the fucking vandal.

Jackdaw44: You still there?

ICE9: Yeah. Sorry. Bit busy.

Jackdaw44: No worries. Just wanted to say thanks for cooling me out. I would have totally lost my shit if you hadn’t turned up.

ICE9: You did lose your shit.

Jackdaw44: Could have been worse.

ICE9: Hmm.

Jackdaw44: Anyway. Thanx.

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Chapter 6 (#ulink_5cb43586-20a4-5326-bc3e-49d50aeb967a)

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ Mark is standing in the centre of the living room with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s loosened his tie and popped the top button of his shirt. The skin at the base of his throat is mottled and red.

‘Sod this.’ Jake moves to get out of his armchair, wincing as he puts weight on his bad foot.

‘You’ll stay where you bloody are,’ Mark shouts and I grip the cushion I’m clutching to my chest a little tighter. ‘This is my house and as long as you live here you’ll do what I say.’

‘Yeah, because that worked out well with Billy, didn’t it?’ Jake doesn’t raise his voice but Mark stumbles backwards as though the question has been screamed in his face.

He seems to fold in on himself, then quickly recovers. ‘What did you just say?’

‘Forget it.’

‘No, say it again.’

‘Please!’ I say. ‘Please don’t do this.’

‘It’s all right, Mum,’ Jake says. ‘I can take Dad.’

‘Take me?’ Mark laughs. ‘Aren’t we the big man now we’ve grown a few muscles? Steroids making you brave, are they, son?’

I stare at Jake in horror. ‘You’re not taking steroids, are you?’

‘Dad doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’

‘One more word from you,’ Mark says, ‘and you’re out.’

‘Please!’ I say. ‘Please! Please stop! Mark, he’s your son! He’s your son.’

A tense silence fills the room, punctuated only by the sound of my own raggedy breathing. I brace myself for round two. Instead Mark’s shoulders slump and he exhales heavily.

‘Always the villain,’ he says, looking from me to Jake. ‘I’m always the villain.’

I want to say something. I want to contradict him. To support him. But to do so would mean choosing between my husband and my son. It’s like the night Billy disappeared all over again. My family is disintegrating in front of my eyes and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

‘Mum,’ Jake says as the back door slams shut and Mark leaves the house. ‘I can explain.’

‘Later.’ My throat is so tight I can barely speak. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’

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Chapter 7 (#ulink_b76d61e3-7421-554b-9129-c4ed89265af0)

‘Here you go.’ Liz places a steaming mug of tea on the table in front of me, then pulls out a chair and sits down. A split second later she stands up again, crosses the kitchen and rummages around in the back of a cupboard bursting with tins, jars and packets of pasta and rice. It’s the day after the appeal. I was going to pop in on Liz yesterday but, after everything that happened, I didn’t have the energy.

‘Ah! Knew I had some.’ She brandishes a 100-gram bar of Galaxy at me and returns to the table. ‘Hidden from Caleb and for emergencies only,’ she says as she sets it in front of me. ‘And days when I decide to skip Slimming World.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Mind if I do then?’ She runs a nail along the gold wrapper and snaps off four pieces. She bites into the chocolate, takes a swig of tea, then smiles broadly. ‘That’s better. Caleb was in a pig of a mood this morning, whingeing about the lack of clean socks in his drawer. Hellooooo, we both work and you’re twenty. Wash your own bloody socks. I thought he’d make more of an effort with his personal hygiene now he’s met someone. Did I tell you about the new boyfriend?’

I shake my head.

‘He met him in a pub in Old Market. Eighteen, works in House of Fraser. I haven’t met him yet. Caleb said he doesn’t want to scare him off by introducing him to me. Cheeky shit. Anyway, sorry.’ She leans back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest. ‘How are you? I meant to watch the appeal but next door’s cat got into the garden again. It was primed to take a shit on the lawn so I chucked some water at it. I thought I’d pop in after you got back but I spotted Mark storming out the back door looking really pissed off and figured it wasn’t the best time.’

That’s the thing I love about Liz; Billy’s disappearance hasn’t changed our friendship in the slightest. Whilst everyone else awkwardly avoids the subject or cross-examines me about the latest developments Liz is just Liz. You crave normality after something terrible happens. Everything reminds you of what you’ve lost – everything – and sometimes you just want to stop thinking about it. I love hearing Liz bitch about Lloyd. I enjoy her little rants about her son Caleb or Elaine, her boss at the supermarket where she works.

Mark compartmentalizes his life. He has the ‘boxes’ in his head he escapes into. I don’t. But at least I have Liz.

‘So how was it?’ she asks.

‘Awful.’

I tell her about Kira screaming, the booze, the cut foot, Jake’s interruption and the argument when we all got home.

‘I’m just so tired,’ I say as she swipes a box of tissues from the windowsill and pushes them towards me. ‘I just want Billy to come home and for this to be over. I miss him, Liz. I miss him so much.’

‘I know,’ she says. ‘I know you do.’

I pull a tissue from the box and dab at my cheeks. I hate that my default emotional reaction is crying. I wish I could shout and scream or punch something instead.

‘Sorry,’ I say.

‘For what? If you can’t snot all over your best friend’s kitchen where can you?’