Soul Fire

the loudest beep. I hold my breath in case it’s woken my parents. But the rest of the house is quieter than a mortuary.
    In the corner of the screen there’s an unopened envelope.
    Click.
    From: Sahara
    Alice, I have terrible news. Ade found Tim dead. Killed self. Must have been guilt. This will be huge shock 4 u. 4 me 2. Sorry to tell u like this.
     Yr phone was off. Call me any time. Sxxx
    Sahara. Was she there with Ade when he found Tim’s body? She hardly ever went to Ade’s place, disgusted by the thought that her boyfriend lived with a suspected killer. News like
this could knock her sideways. Yet occasionally I wonder if Sahara gets a kick out of all the drama. She’s always telling people she was Meggie’s best friend, even though I know Meggie
fell out with her about something before she died.
    And now this . . . It was sent at nine thirty, well before the police arrived, and even before I saw Tim struggle ashore.
    If my phone had been switched on, it would have been Sahara who broke the news. Why doesn’t that surprise me?
    There’s nothing from Tim. But that’s good news, because it’s the last bit of proof that I’m right. I’m not crazy. And he’s not a killer.
    Which also confirms, of course, that someone else out there has murdered two people I was close to.
    I put the phone on my bed, wondering how my life has become so warped. Because the truth is, knowing there might be a serial murderer out there actually makes me feel better.

I would like to say I told you so. That I knew another death was coming.
    But who would I say it to? Murder is a lonely business, and, anyway, people would say, ‘Of course you saw it coming. You were the killer.’
    Yet I swear it wasn’t premeditated. Can anyone but a hitman or a psychopath say with certainty when they will take a life?
    It would be like waking in the morning and saying, ‘At nine ten a.m. I will kill a fly,’ when you might not even see a fly all day, or even feel the need to
open the window that could let one in.
    Actions come from random encounters with opportunity. Those who obsess about motive are missing the point. One might as well argue that victims have motives, too. That they
know when their moment will come.
    Really, the line that separates killer from killed is thinner than any of us would like to admit.

9
    Wet earth falls onto my face. My hands are tied behind my back. I choke on the soil as I try to breathe.
    ‘Help me!’
    When I wake up, I’m clawing at my face, gasping for breath. This is the same nightmare my sister used to have. She told me about it once, when she was a bit drunk. It’s as though
I’ve inherited it from her.
    I’m groggy and headachy. And – I check my watch – due in school in four minutes.
    ‘Mum?’
    I bang on my parents’ bedroom door and when she doesn’t answer, I push it open. ‘Mum, it’s almost nine.’
    She doesn’t stir and I notice how young she looks when she’s asleep. Her skin is slightly puffy, from drinking a bit too much last night. I don’t blame her.
    ‘Alice?’ Mum sits up, her face wrinkled with worry again.
    ‘We’ve overslept. And I had a terrible night. And it’s still snowing. I was wondering . . . would it be all right for me to stay at home today? After what happened.’
    ‘After what?’ she says, scowling. Then she remembers and sinks back onto the pillow. ‘Tim. Oh, God.’
    ‘I don’t want to have to see people today. It’ll be all over the news. I can’t face it, Mum.’
    She sighs. ‘We can’t run away from this, Alice. If you don’t go in today, it’ll be twice as tough tomorrow . . .’
    But I can tell she’s close to saying yes. ‘I’m not talking about forever. Just today. Please.’
    She holds her hand up. ‘OK. I give in. Stay home with me. We can watch a movie. Order in a takeaway for lunch. Eat cake.’
    I stare at my mother. She suddenly seems hyperactive. ‘Are you pleased that this has happened to Tim?’
    ‘No, of course not.’ Then she blinks. ‘But . . . but I was haunted by the idea he’d go on to live a normal life. Have a family of his own. While your sister . .
.’
    ‘Mum—’
    ‘I didn’t want it to happen like this , Alice, honestly. But I did want justice.’
    So do I . And so do at least two other JusticeSeekers . I want to go online to check if there are other messages and scour the site for evidence: not only about Tim’s death,
but also my sister’s. Finding her killer is still the most