Кара Хантер - All the Rage

Somer nods; and it's not just the technical presentation she's impressed with. This girl has more poise than most people twice her age. `˜What about her more personal stuff? Social media? Friends `“ boyfriends? Frenemies?'

Baxter shakes his head. `˜No bloke that I can find. She does a lot on Instagram but it's all just snazzy pictures and hundreds of bloody hashtags.'

Somer smiles to herself at the thought of Baxter staring at shot after shot of on-trend shoes and brow tattoo products. She can't even remember the last time she heard anyone use the word `˜snazzy'.

Meanwhile Baxter is still talking. `˜But she doesn't appear to be on Twitter at all and the Facebook account has barely been used. Seems she's more into broadcast than dialogue.'

Somer nods. `˜That's the impression we got at the college too. Everyone knows her but no one knows her very well. One of the girls described her as `њnice but really really private`ќ. I just can't see her pissing anyone off enough for them to play a joke on her `“ especially one as elaborate and cruel as that.'

Baxter's face is grave. `˜If it actually was just a joke. Sounded a lot worse than that to me.'

Somer nods. `˜I know.'

`˜But if it really was a sexual assault, why the hell won't she report it?'

Somer sighs. `˜She wouldn't be the first. Not by a long way.'

They sit there a moment, staring at the girl's face on the screen. Faith is frozen mid-smile, confident, happy, self-assured. She's barely recognizable as the girl Somer saw earlier.

`˜There was one thing I found a bit odd,' says Baxter eventually.

`˜Oh yes?'

`˜All Faith's social media `“ the Instagram, the Facebook account `“ none of it goes back further than last year.'

Somer glances across at him. `˜Nothing before that? Couldn't she just have deleted the old ones and started again?'

Baxter shakes his head. `˜I don't think so. I can't find anything.'

Somer frowns; this doesn't feel right. `˜And why would she want to do that anyway?'

He shrugs. `˜Search me. But what do I know about teenagers?'

Somer turns back to the screen. The video must have been filmed in Faith's bedroom. Somer can see the pinboard Ev told her about, and underneath it a white side table with make-up bags and toiletries, and half-a-dozen framed photographs.

`˜Can you enlarge those?' she says suddenly.

Baxter flicks her a quizzical glance but says nothing. He taps the keyboard and the photos fill the screen.

`˜It's just a bunch of old family snaps,' he says, sitting back again. `˜Faith isn't even in them.'

But Somer is on the edge of her seat, staring, and when she turns back to Baxter her eyes are bright.

`˜Exactly,' she says. `˜She's not in them .'

* * *

Sasha is lying on her back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Years ago, when she was little, her mum stuck little silver stars all over it that glow in the dark. And her mum being her mum, she didn't just stick them up any old how, she did proper constellations `“ the Great Bear and Cassiopeia and the Pleiades. She got the idea from some TV programme about Grand Central station. Some of the stars have fallen off over the years, and these days Orion has to manage without a head, but Sasha still loves it. She's promised herself that she'll go to New York one day and see the real thing. It's on her list, in the back of her notebook, along with `“

Her phone pings and she rolls over and picks it up from the floor. Patsie. A selfie with her poking two fingers towards her mouth, then a photo of a saucepan full of diced carrot.

Sasha types Gross and gets a string of green puking-face emojis in reply.

Are you back in school tomorrow? she writes.

The text pings back at once If I can b arsed. Rather watch the telly. There's a photo underneath of her feet propped up on a cushion in fluffy slippers. In the background the Jeremy Kyle Show is on the TV. A burly security guard is trying to keep two teenage girls from scratching each other's eyes out. The subtitle at the bottom says, `˜You slept with my boyfriend and I'm going to prove it!'

Look at those stupid mares , writes Patsie.

Sasha laughs and texts back, WTAF?

There's a pause then, and Sasha thinks Patsie must have tuned out until suddenly there's another text. Bloody Lee's here , it says. Prancing about showing his rancid tits again . There's another line of puking emojis. I wish Mum would just wake up and dump that loser.

Sasha frowns. You on your own?

Mum shd b back soon.

Don't know what she sees in that perv , writes Sasha. Sure you're OK Pats?

There's a kissing emoji now, then Awww U R the best. I told him to fuck right off. See ya tomorrow babe Xxx.

The stars above Sasha's head are just starting to glow and she gets up and goes over to close the curtains. There's a white van parked up on the opposite side of the road. A man is sitting inside, but Sasha can't see his face.

* * *

`˜Do you see what I mean?' says Somer. `˜Faith's not in any of these photos, and she wasn't in any of the ones I saw in the Applefords' sitting room either.'

Baxter is frowning. `˜So?'

`˜There were a couple of the mother, and some of a little girl with dark hair, but that's definitely Nadine, not Faith.'

`˜Still not sure what you're getting at. Perhaps she just doesn't like pictures of herself. Some people don't. Especially bloody baby photos. Mine just make me look like Shrek.'

Somer suppresses a smile. `˜But there might be a reason why she doesn't have any pictures. What if she's adopted?'

He shrugs. `˜But even if she is, what difference does it make? No one's going to attack her because of that `“'

`˜Can you pull up the General Records Office database?'

Baxter gives a heavy sigh but he's seen that look on Somer's face before. When she's in this mood it's best to just let her get on with it.

He taps the keyboard and a new screen opens. He turns to Somer.

`˜So, what do you want to know?'

`˜Can we look up Faith's birth certificate? She's eighteen so she must have been born in '99 or 2000.'

Baxter clicks through the search facility, then frowns.

`˜What? What is it?'

He points at the screen. `˜That can't be right. Can it?'

But Somer is nodding. `˜I think it can. In fact, I think it might explain everything.'

* * *

It's gone 11.00 when Everett gets the email from Somer, telling her what they found. And only because she forgot to turn off the phone before she collapsed into bed. The beep and flash of light has her wide awake and seizing the phone before she's even conscious she's doing it. At the end of the bed, the cat stirs and resettles. Everett can feel her heart pounding as she unlocks the phone and peers at the screen. It can't be good for your health to be jolted bolt upright like this.

Then she lies back down again, staring at a ceiling she can't see. Her heart is still pounding and, this time, being woken up in the middle of the night has nothing to do with it.

* * *

I'm stacking the dishwasher when my mobile goes. Somer. And she doesn't even bother apologizing. And that, take it from me, is not like her at all.

`˜I'm emailing you something, sir. Can you call me when you get it?'

`˜What is it?'

`˜It's a birth certificate. From 1999.'

The line goes dead. And then the phone pings.

`˜Problem?' says Alex, seeing the look on my face.