Page 101 of Glasshouses

“Because it was Stefan following me and I didn’t want you to see him. I didn’t know it was him. I’d forgotten what he looked like.” She stretched out her legs, wriggling her toes.

Her hands were tied loosely, and I wondered if she could’ve freed herself and why she hadn’t. As soon as I had the rope, I moved backwards, away from her, trust gossamer thin.

“Because he was older?”

“We both are. He’d been looking for me. He’d put a brick through my window before, here, but through the glasshouse. My dad blamed me.” She stood up, stretching out her arms, her movements almost poetic. Her clothes were dirty and creased, clearly unchanged in a couple of days.

“Is Stefan here, Lily?”

She turned round to me, leaning forward and putting a finger to her lips. “Shhhh. No one can know.”

“Why did you tell me you were here?”

“Because Stefan wanted to show you something.”

“What did he want to show me?”

She laughed and twirled around like a clumsy dancer. “The house, of course. It’s mine now. I get to grow what I want in the gardens.”

It was then I saw the figure in the doorway, shaded by the darkness of the landing.

My exit was blocked, Ste Taylor stood there, dressed in black, his expression the same colour.

“DS Mia McAllister,” he said. “I did wonder what your house would look like with a splash of orange flame. Time to go, Lily.” He pointed to his side, Lily scuttling towards him and before I could get to the door it was slammed shut, a key turning in a new door.

I hadn’t noticed before, the door to the room was unvarnished; new wood. Newly hung. A heavy yale lock clicking.

There was the window; the sash was heavy looking, probably unopened for nearly two decades. If I could move it – but I could definitely smash it.

“Stefan, the rest of my team are on their way.” A bubble of panic was rising from my stomach to my throat.

“We’ll be long gone by then. Just a shame Lily forgot to get your car keys, eh, Lily? You forgot that part of the plan.”

“I like her. It was wrong to take her car.” Lily’s voice reminded me of a little girl.

“It was wrong not to stick to the plan,” he chided.

“What’s the rest of your plan?” I asked, looking around the room for something to smash against the window.

There was laughter, a little further away now. “We’re going on a trip. My father always wanted me to go travelling. Seems like a good way to spend his money.”

“When did you see your father last, Stefan?” I opened the wardrobe, disturbing a coven of moths.

“A couple of times recently, maybe three. He told me Lily’s mum was getting nosy. Then he sent me some money to help me out, then we last saw him three nights ago.” His voice grew fainter again.

“He was hanging from a tree, Mia.” Lily sang the words. “He danced in the wind.”

“Did you kill him, Stefan?”

Laughter, then words I couldn’t hear, just noises, sounds. I kept looking around the room, opening the bedside drawers, finding nothing apart from some cheap hair accessories from a shop that was trendy when I was a teen, still with the labels on. Love tokens that Lily couldn’t wear.

I tried the window, checking for locks and then pushing up the frame, nothing budging. Another check and I realised it was painted shut and forcing it open wouldn’t be possible without tools, which I did not have.

The bedside table was heavy wood, solid joins that were made without screws. I could lift it but swinging it against the window was going to be difficult; I risked glass potentially breaking over me.

“You need – light it.” I caught the words, footsteps rushing.

“I think – plan.” That was Lily.