Soul Fire

I’m Mr Immaculate.’
    I smile back. The embarrassment’s gone. I’m a little bit surprised at him, how he held me instinctively, not like an awkward geek at all, but like a best friend who cares.
    ‘It’s bad enough that someone took it. But what’s that photo doing on the site, Lewis?’
    We turn back to the screen and I flinch. Lewis scrolls up, so I don’t have to see the image of my dead sister’s hand, though I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. But
there’s nothing under the picture, no caption, no note. And the rant about my mother’s disappeared.
    ‘You know, I was that close to finding their real location. But it’s still possible that some of the diagnostic stuff could crunch a result, of sorts. It might take a while,
but I’ll try, shall I?’
    ‘Please.’
    He types some lines of code at the middle keyboard, then sighs. ‘It’s going to be hours. I think after the shock you’ve had, perhaps I should run you home.’
    I don’t have the strength to argue. And actually, he’s right. It’s the only place I want to be.
    I get back just after one in the morning. Mum and Dad are already in bed, but when I sneak into the dining room, my laptop’s gone.
    What the hell? The first thing I think of is that Meggie’s killer has been here – is still here.
    I run upstairs, not caring if I wake my parents, and the panic lasts till I get to my room and find the computer back in its old place on my desk, ready for action. There’s a note next to
it, in Mum’s writing:
    A final little birthday present. We’ve always trusted you, darling, we only wanted to help.
    When I get my breath back, I realise it means I can carry on my own investigations into how Meggie died, right now. Or venture back onto the Beach to feel my sister’s warm hand in mine, to
try to replace that horrible image of death with one of life.
    But my eyes smart from my tears and from staring at a screen for so long, and the thought of Soul Beach is exhausting. Maybe Mum was only trying to protect me. God knows there are some
things on the internet that shouldn’t be there, that no one should have to see.
    Yet even though I feel sick at the thought of it, I’m glad I did go to Burning Truths tonight. For months, I’ve been trying Lewis’s patience with suspicions and theories that
must have tested his belief in me.
    Now he’s seen it, he must also see what it is we’re up against. Whoever took those photographs didn’t see my sister as human, but as some kind of . . . specimen, or trophy.
    I know Lewis isn’t as convinced of Tim’s innocence as I am. But when we said good night, I saw it in his eyes: he wants to know the truth, too. He’s not going to give up on me
or Meggie now.
    Somehow I fall asleep almost instantly. When I wake up at nine on Saturday, it takes me a few seconds to remember I don’t need to set a four a.m. Beach alarm anymore.
    It’s a few seconds more before I remember what Lewis and I found on Burning Truths last night. It makes me shiver, but I have to focus on the investigation. We will find the person behind
the site, I know we will, and then we’ll find out where they got the photo.
    It might even happen today.
    Downstairs in the kitchen, the Mail lies open on the breakfast bar. I’ve interrupted a row, I’m sure of it.
    ‘Morning, Alice,’ Mum says, too brightly. ‘You look very well this morning, considering!’
    ‘I wasn’t that late.’
    ‘Ten past one is late enough for a sixteen— sorry, a seventeen-year-old,’ she says, then smiles. ‘I know I’m fussing but I couldn’t sleep till I knew you were
back safe.’
    Dad’s smile is forced. ‘You had a good night?’
    ‘Brilliant! And now I’m meeting Cara for breakfast so she can help me spend my birthday money.’
    ‘I could run you in,’ Mum offers, in a fairly desperate bid to get out of facing the music with Dad.
    ‘No, thanks. The walk will clear my head.’
    We meet in the Marks and Spencer coffee shop. Cara’s nicked her mother’s free breakfast vouchers and is already breaking the world Danish-pastry-eating speed
record.
    ‘How’s your head?’ I ask her.
    ‘Thundering. How’s yours?’
    Full of horrible images and a roll call of names: Sahara, Ade, Tim, Zoe . It’s my updated suspect list. I worked it out on the walk over here.
    ‘Wake up, Alice! I asked you how you’re feeling.’
    ‘Not too bad, considering.’
    ‘So what did you and your just good friend Lewis get up to after we