Chapter 6
Please don’t feed the pelicans!
Sign for tourists in St. James’s Park
Kate
“We’re certainly not going to pay you for a stolen phone that may or may not belong to Henry Darlington,” said the woman from INsider, her voice crackling loudly from the broken speaker of my ancient phone as it cut in and out.
“Deliver it . . . directly to . . . and then . . . talk again, but don’t waste . . . time. Goodbye.”
The woman hung up without giving me a chance to say another word. I removed the prepaid phone from my ear, and a piece of the shattered case fell to the floor. Fuck it, it belonged in the bin anyway. That had probably been its last call.
Henry Darlington’s gleaming, brand-new iPhone pinged. Something it seemed to be doing every three minutes. This time, it was a message from Richard Darlington. Who the hell saved their dad’s contact with his first and last name? But what did I know? I didn’t have a dad, only a faceless progenitor.
I put my own shabby phone aside and pressed the button on the side of the fancy smartphone.
The lock screen lit up and told me that—surprise, surprise—facial recognition wasn’t working.
The background image was an abstract pattern, giving zero hint of a personality.
Perhaps it was even a default background.
I was asked to enter a code, but I didn’t bother trying my luck.
I wondered if Henry Darlington had noticed yet that his phone was missing.
Without all the notifications that kept coming in, his life must be pleasantly quiet right now.
He may even have been grateful for the theft.
The display had just lit up with another message when suddenly a telltale prickling at the back of my neck put me on my guard.
I raised my eyes—and froze.
Henry Darlington.
He was back.
And he was heading straight for me.