Chapter 30
Thirty
Morgan
‘Diggerty.’ Quinn ruffles his fur then throws him a treat and the dog runs after it. Her cheeks are red. Damp glistens in dots on her face where snowflakes have melted on her warm skin. ‘Brr,’ she says as she takes her coat off but leaves her scarf on.
If Quinn caught me snooping, she’s not giving anything away.
I need to get out of here. Where’s Harry when I need him?
It’s hot here, not like Clover House. I still wonder why she never took her purse to the shop.
She doesn’t even have any shopping on her.
It’s obvious that Quinn didn’t go to the shop.
I can’t really mention my thoughts on this to Harry, so I think I’ll start keeping my own notes, separate to what we share at the den. I quickly record them in my phone.
Quinn has Great-Aunt Dorette’s notebook and she didn’t go to the shop and she might know that I looked at the book in her bag.
Then again, it was only Harry who thought Quinn had gone to the shop. We have no idea where Quinn went.
A sinking feeling washes through me. Harry and I are going back through the woods soon, in the dark to the den.
That place creeped me out in daylight, and I know Mum is dead set against me stepping foot in those woods.
I must be mad but it’s something we have to do.
We need some privacy, to talk about the letters without our parents hearing.
What about the girl who went to the woods and was never seen again?
Quinn walks over to her bag and nudges the notebook fully into the main pocket, and she closes it with a click. ‘Where’s Harry?’
‘He’s in the games room looking for his hoodie, I think.
’ I can’t say he’s gone to pack up our investigation because we’re taking it to the den.
I could ask her some questions about the den and the missing girl.
That might help and I can share that information with Harry.
Quinn might have lived here back then. She might’ve even known the girl.
‘Harry mentioned a girl who went missing years ago in the woods. That must have been scary. Did you know her?’
Quinn looks like a rabbit in headlights. She opens and closes her mouth, like she doesn’t know what to say. Her face twitches slightly, in a way that most people might not notice.
I definitely feel I’ll make a good detective one day.
Detective Morgan – I’m getting sidetracked now but I like the way that sounded.
I look at Quinn and smile. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.
’ I’m curious because we’re going to the woods in a minute and I want to feel safe.
A sudden thought crosses my mind. What if James and his friends are there?
I don’t know when he stays at Tessa’s house but it must be a lot if he has his friends over.
There is a small estate at the other side of a pond.
Harry told me about it; he said it’s where James’s friends live – the same friends who upset me in the school dinner queue.
‘Erm, it’s okay. I didn’t know Harry knew about her, but kids talk so I’m not surprised. It was upsetting at the time but it isn’t a mystery. She ran away from home.’
I scrunch my brows. People don’t up and run away from home for no reason. ‘That’s sad. I can’t imagine being out in the big wide world alone.’
‘It was but she had a different upbringing to us. Jasmine.’ Quinn clicks her fingers like she’s just remembered. ‘Yes. Her mother had a drug problem and her dad, from what I recall, was a drinker. Her homelife wasn’t nice.’
At least she wasn’t murdered and buried in the woods, I think. If no one ever found her, she could be anywhere and someone still leaves pink ribbons tied around a tree in her memory. Jasmine, we have a name. ‘When was this?’
‘I can’t quite remember. Over twenty years ago.’
She’d be about the same age as my mum and Quinn, then. I wonder if Quinn hung out at the den. ‘Did Jasmine live on Clover Lane?’
Quinn shakes her head. ‘She lived on an estate close by. She used to come here to hang out with friends, but not often.’ Quinn frowns.
‘She had this little Pekinese dog that she used to always bring with her.’ She looks out of the window at the bridge in her garden like she’s deep in thought, then she brushes her lips gently with a finger and frowns.
I’m looking at her reflection but she’s not looking at me. It’s as if she’s staring into thin air.
I obviously won’t share with Harry that I think there’s something strange about his mum.
She looks like she lives in her head, thinking and running past thoughts and conversations through it.
I see pain etched on her face – but we know that Quinn didn’t send the letters.
Quinn received a letter, the one that my mum stole from her post box.
It’s like whatever spell Quinn is under breaks. She walks to the worktop and grabs a bottle of red wine and pours a glass, then she goes back to the window.
Harry bursts through the door, blinking, with his coat and rucksack on his back. ‘Off to walk Diggerty, then I’m going to hang out with Morgan for a bit. We’ll stay close by.’
Quinn doesn’t acknowledge what he said, so we leave.
‘Is your mum okay?’ I ask.
‘Yes, she gets like this. It’s just the creative juices, that’s what she calls it. She imagines the scenes in her head, has a couple of glasses of wine and lets them play out. After that, she normally runs into her studio and starts to storyboard and write notes. I know it sounds mad.’
‘I was just asking her about the missing girl.’
We’re walking down his drive and a snowflake lands on my nose. He turns to look at me as we reach the road. ‘And she spoke…about the girl?’
‘Yes, she told me her name was Jasmine and she ran away because her mum had a drug problem and her dad drank a lot.’
‘Okay. I’ve asked her before and she’s always refused to talk about it, saying it was an urban legend. Maybe she didn’t want to scare me.’
I shrug my shoulders. There’s not much I can say to that.
As we reach the entrance to the woods, Harry lets Diggerty off his lead and the dog begins to run and sniff at tree trunks before peeing up as many as he can manage until he’s all dried out.
I glance back, knowing that I’m not meant to be here. My parents will never find out.
I go to mention the notebook in Quinn’s bag. It’s odd that she had it. I can’t see it being given as a gift but what do I know? My stomach sinks a little. Maybe Dorette knew she was going to die or even take her own life. Either that notebook was a gift to Quinn or Quinn stole it.
Streetlamps lead the way through the woods and we follow them, until they run out.
What looked like a beautiful snow-carpeted winter wonderland almost feels still and otherworldly.
This is the last place that anyone ever saw Jasmine.
A trace of her must lie here somewhere but no one has ever found it.
I’m picturing a girl about my age, never going home one day, and I gasp.
Once again, I’m heading into the woods, only this time I’m keeping track of the twists and turns we make. There’s a slight path, barely noticeable. As long as the snow doesn’t fall too deeply, I should be able to follow it. I never want to feel lost again.