too late. Though perhaps that has already occurred to her. Perhaps that was what she was really doing in the toilet, when she took so long and came up with that transparent food-poisoning story. Perhaps she was making herself sick.
Could I stage a break-in? Perhaps I could pretend that Inigo came back for us? It could work—but not if Inigo himself has an alibi. And the problem is that if Inigo does have an alibi and if Erin doesn’t suspect me, then I would be exposing myself for no reason. I would be shooting myself in the foot.
I have to be very, very careful. I cannot afford a mistake.
But I have to know. I have to know what she knows.
“Erin,” I whisper, very quietly. There is complete silence, but it is not quite the silence of someone fully asleep. It is more like the silence of someone thinking it over.
At last there is a sigh, and Erin says, “Yes?”
“You’re still awake?”
“I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about the others, wondering where they are.”
It could be true. But then I think about that little slit of her eye, glinting at me in the dark. I don’t think it is. I don’t think that is what is keeping her awake. I play along.
“Are you worried about Danny?”
There is another long pause. I think she is trying to work out what to say. She is trying to figure out whether she needs to pretend to suspect someone else.
“A bit,” she says at last. “I hoped he’d come back tonight, you know?”
I am about to say something else, I’m not sure what, something meaningless about being sure Danny is okay.
Only then, in the silence as I formulate my words, there is a double beep. Very faint, and coming from upstairs, but completely unmistakable.
It is a sound that sets my pulse racing even before I have pinned down what it is.
It is the sound of a text message coming through.
ERIN
Snoop ID: LITTLEMY
Listening to: Offline
Snoopers: 5
Snoopscribers: 10
I can tell at once that Liz has heard. Her whole body goes stiff and alert, and she pushes herself up on her elbow, listening intently.
Fuck.
“What was that?” she says.
My heart is racing. I know bloody well what it was. It was Danny replying to Elliot’s text message. It must be. Elliot’s is the only phone in the house that still has any charge left on it. There must have been a blip of reception—the same sliver that allowed the notification from Snoop to come through.
But I keep my face carefully neutral.
“I have no idea—it sounded like a phone, don’t you think? But that can’t be right.”
Liz is staring at me, like she’s trying to figure out what’s going on behind my face. Oh my god she knows. She definitely knows. She just isn’t sure enough to act on her suspicions. I have to be very, very careful.
“It sounded like it was coming from upstairs,” Liz says. She grabs her glasses and swings one leg out of bed.
“Yeah…,” I say it slowly, my mind racing. At all costs, I can’t let her get into Elliot’s room. If she sees that message, I am in big trouble. She already suspects me. It would be very hard to explain that message away. “Yeah, it did.”
Could she kill me? I don’t know. Her knee is as screwed as my ankle. Could she out-hobble me if it came to trying to get away? I am trying to think of a plan. Could I lure her outside somehow? Lock the door? But then I think of Danny’s words, about Inigo turning up, begging to be let in, and I know he was right. I could never stand there and watch another human being freeze to death inches away, only a pane of glass separating us. I just couldn’t. Not even Liz.
But I can’t let her find that text message.
My mind is racing, trying to remember what I could see on Elliot’s lock screen before I cleared it. Some people have their text messages show up in their entirety. Others only have the ID of the sender, or just You have a text. Which is Elliot? Why didn’t I check before I unlocked the phone and cleared his notifications? Of course if it occurs to Liz to use Elliot’s dead body to unlock the phone like I did, none of this matters.
“It sounds like it came from Miranda’s room,” I say slowly, trying to think how to put her off track.