Page 66 of Jacob

“Yes… No… I was with someone else, and Skye had a meeting with this guy she made friends with. He runs some fucking arts group or some shit. She met him through her video chan—” I stop speaking and fall into my chair. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“What is it, Jacob?”

“She’s with him.” I fling my hand to my pounding heart as I feel like I’m having a heart attack. “The guy from the coffee shop. The guy from her video channel. The guy who said he was a fucking girl!” I stand to my feet and kick a boardroom chair across the room. Hitting the wall with force, it makes a loud clattering noise and leaves a huge dent.

Shona screams, and my father comes running into the boardroom.

Of all the days for him to come into the office, he chooses today.

“Jacob,” my father shouts at me forcefully. “What the hell do you think you are playing at?” he bellows.

I hold up my hand to say sorry. With my phone firmly held against my ear, I say, “Kimmy. Hang up the phone and call Skye’s parents. Call them, ask if they’ve seen her and I’m going to call the police.”

“Jacob?” Kimmy whispers.

I close my eyes and tilt my head back. “Yeah?”

“What if something happened to her?”

Then I will die in pain, with a broken heart, knowing I was fucking feet away from being able to help her.

“I’m sure she’s fine. It’s just a precaution,” I say unconvincingly. “Give her mom and dad my number, please.”

“Okay.” And she hangs up.

“Jacob?” My father walks round the table in my direction. “What’s going on?” Concern is written all over his face.

I cover my mouth with my hand, not believing the words I’m about to say. “I think Skye’s missing.”

“Phone the police.” My dad lays both his hands on top of my shoulders. “Now.”

23

JACOB

I’m sitting with my head in my hands on Skye’s parents’ sofa, answering questions the police detective keeps throwing at me.

The same questions she’s asked me three times now.

I’m trying not to lose my patience, but it’s hanging on by a thread.

“And that was the last time you saw her?” she asks again.

“Yes,” I sigh frustratedly. “She left with a man named Jules. Although I don’t even know if that’s his name. He lied about his gender. How can we be sure of anything now?”

“Thank you for the clarification, Mr. Baxter.” The sharp-nosed detective closes her notepad and looks at the uncertainty around the room.

I keep talking. I want her to know how serious this is and what I found out myself. “I looked up the creative arts group she said he was the founder of. It doesn’t exist. I’ve checked Skye’s video channel too, and all of his comments have disappeared. His username was Crazy4Blue.”

That fucking name.

It all makes sense now, as everything starts slipping into place; he’s crazy for her. I feel wretched.

“So are you saying he’s just disappeared, Mr. Baxter?”

Like Skye. Vanished.

I keep sharing what I know. “Yes. Skye showed me the website for the art group the other night. There was even a social media presence. It’s been taken down. The whole lot, just gone. He asked a lot of questions. What makeup did she wear? Where did she buy her clothes from? She, I mean, he, always said Skye had pretty eyes and told her how beautiful she was.”

---