The Mute and the Liar (67 page)

Jayce
pauses,
just
panting
for
a
moment,
then
suddenly
raises
his
arm
up
again,
about
to
strike
her
once
more.
She
holds
her
hand
up
to
shield
herself.

Her
hand
is
attached
to
her
phone,
an
old
Nokia
phone,
one
of
those
blue
sliding
ones
with
chunky
buttons
we’ve
all
had
that
you
could
crush
in
an
avalanche
and, Jesus-like, would just
resurface
completely
unscathed.

Jayce
snatches
it
out
of
her hands,
rolls
it
in
his
palms
and
holds
it
up
to
the
light
His eyes narrow and his lips sink into
a
frown.

In
a
hushed
voice, he
slowly
asks:
“
How
did you get
this?
”

Kaylie’s
confused,
increasingly
worried
expression
mimics
mine
perfectly.

“
The
phone?
I
found
it
in
my
bag
earlier
today.
Why?
What’s
wrong
with
it?
”

“
You
found
it
in
your
bag.
You
found
it
in
your
bag?
”
he
strings
out
every
word
with
anger
disguised
as
bemusement.
“
Like
Hell
I’m
supposed
to
be
believe
that!
”

“
Jayce,
what’s-
”

“
It’s
you!
”
he accuses.
“
You’re the
one
who’s
been sending me
all
the
texts
and
instructions.
It’s been
you
from
the
start!
”

“
I
don’t
know
what
you’re
talking-
”

“
Don’t
play
dumb!
I’m
not
an
idiot!
It’s
been
you
all
along,
hasn’t
it?
”
“
Jayce!
”

“
If
it’s
not
you, then
tell me
how you
have
Becky’s
phone!
”

“
Becky?
Who
is
Becky?
Jayce,
really,
I
swear,
someone
put
this
in
my
bag earlier today.
I
don’t
know-
”

“
Shut
up!
”
he
shrieks.
“
How
could
you
do
this
to
me?
”
He
breathes
heavily
for
a
moment,
then
his
face
softens,
almost
in
an
attempt
to
believe
her.
He
turns
his
attention
back
to
the
phone.
He
fiddles
with
the
phone,
and
then
stops.
I
lean
over
his
shoulder
to
get
a
better
look.
He’s
opened
a
video.

He
clicks
play.

It’s
a
blurred
video
so
it’s
hard
to
see
exactly
what’s
going
on.
Half
the
screen
is
black,
and
it
takes
me
a
while
to
realise
that
this
is
because
something
is
in
the
way,
blocking
the
camera’s
view.
This
i
s
strange,
because
there
doesn
'
t
seem
to
be
any
solid
object
there.
The
more
I
look
at
it,
the
more
it
looks
like
the
camera
is
actually
filming
from
the
inside
of
a
coat
,
meaning
this
video
is
being
filmed
in
secret.
The
other
side
of
the
screen
is
a
stark
and
brash
white.
It’s
the
inside
of
a
very
well-lit,
alarmingly
clean,
almost
blinding
room.
I
can
make
out
objects
–
a
small
dressing
table
next to what appears to be
a
bed cloaked in white sheets.

I
focus
on
the
bed
and
understand
why
it
took
me
so
long
to
define
the
shape
as
a
bed
–
there
is someone
lying
in
it
.

“
Good
evening,
Jeffrey
,
”
greets
a
rough,
low,
male
voice
speaking
from
behind
the
camera.
I
can’t
tell
his
age
by
the
sound
of
his
voice
–
it’s
low
but
has
a
slight
softness
to
it.
The
figure
on
the
bed
moves
at
the
sound
of
the
voice,
and
appears
to
struggle
against
the
weight
of
his
own
body,
but
proves
to
be
too
weak.
“
Don’t
try
to
get
up.
You’ve
g
ot
s
om
e pretty bad
injuries
there.
How
are
you
feeling?
”
Although
the
words are
sympathetic
,
the tone of the speaker’s voice is anything
but.

The
figure
on
the
bed
slumps
back,
welcoming
the
command
to
not
try
and
get
up
with
relief.
His
brief
attempt
to
struggle
has
left
him
in
a
different
position
though,
and
I
can
now
see
that
he
is
an
unrecognisable,
skeletal-
cheeked
teen
boy
and,
even
more
worryingly,
that
the
top
of
his
head
has
been wrapped
in bandages.

“
Who…
Who
are
you?
”
he
manages
to
choke
out,
his
voice frail.

“
Oh,
I’m
no
one
important
-
but
you
are.
”
I
notice
the
low-voiced
speaker
has
a
very
slight
accent
–
it
tints
the
occasional
word
and
I
notice
he
rolls
his
‘rs.’
“
You
became
important
the
moment
you
looked
at
that
girl
in
the
Abbey.
“

The
Abbey?