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her, then?”
    Pete stood up, looking like he might be cruising for a fight, but Dan just shrugged. “Yeah, she worked with us. Was meant to work the Saturday shift but never got here. Naomi thought she must’ve missed her at home, but she could’ve gone at any time. Naomi’s pretty cut up about it—housemate going missing like that, from right under your nose.”
    Pete walked off, clearly not interested in telling a total stranger about his friend’s disappearance. Dan, however, seemed to want to get it off his chest and leaned against the wall next to Jason. “Pete and her had a thing. Nothing serious, but he’s right upset. Down the cop shop every day, he is. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they fished her out of the Taff.”
    “You think she was pushed, or...?” Jason trailed off. It was hard to bring up the idea that this guy’s friend had jumped into the river.
    “I don’t know what to think, mate. All I know is she ain’t here no more, is she? And every day she stays missing, it’s less likely she’s coming home.”
    Jason shook his head. “That’s hard, man. Don’t know how you cope with it, like. Had she been here long?”
    “Only since the beginning of term. We get a lot of students, y’know. I don’t think she was a fresher, though, but she needed a job to get her through the year. She always wanted the extra shifts, just like Naomi. They were pretty skint most of the time.” He pulled at his cropped, gelled hair. “Fuck, I’m already talking like she’s gone.”
    Jason turned away until the sniffles beside him had stopped, taking another slow drag of his rollie. He heard the familiar click of a lighter and the shaky exhale of a comfort cigarette. “They’ll find the bastard who did it,” he found himself saying. “We may talk shit about the Cardiff cops, but they’ve got eyes everywhere.”
    “Hope you’re right, mate,” Dan said and threw half his cigarette away, letting it fizzle out in the rain.

Chapter Eight: The Body in the Trunk
    He couldn’t keep her in the suitcase forever.
    For a start, the suitcase was staring at him. Accusing him. He needed to Get. Rid. He’d thought he was being smart, keeping her locked away until he was ready to deal with her, but he hadn’t expected such accusation.
    He waited until sunset, which didn’t take long these days, not after the clocks had gone back. It was Fate, really, everything coming together like this. It meant that she would finally come back to him. It was Destiny, Disney, Devilry—like true love should be.
    He dragged the suitcase down the stairs and out the front door. Nobody noticed him. Nobody ever noticed him. He was invisible, like a superhero. Crusading for his girlfriend, his Lois Lane, and one day, she’d learn his true identity and they’d be together. Fate.
    He heaved at the suitcase, the leather slipping in his sweaty grip as he lifted it. He hadn’t realised a person would be so heavy, but he’d learned that lesson the first time. He hadn’t brought a suitcase then, because how could he be sure? The pretty blonde girl with the easy smile, so very easy. But then he’d seen her and she was...nothing like her , nothing at all. He struck down temptation—but then he had to move her out. He hadn’t made that mistake the second time, brought the old suitcase just in case. It never hurt to be prepared.
    With the suitcase in the boot, he carefully switched on his lights and his wipers, driving exactly at the speed limit. He would be invisible. There were a few cars heading out of town, but as he got farther away from the city, the traffic died away and it was just him and the Welsh Valleys.
    His mum had once taken him on holidays to the Brecon Beacons: hills and lakes, damp and cold, endless walking. Now he welcomed their brooding silence. Dead men tell no tales, and neither do the hills. He quite liked that, actually—it was almost poetry. He’d write it in his blog. He’d write it to her. One day, she would