Jessie – 6.05 a.m.
When Fiona next speaks, she no longer sounds robotic. She no longer sounds like Fiona at all.
‘Didn’t I tell you, if you want to see your family again, you have to be ready to tell the truth,’ she says. ‘If you’d have done that sooner, this whole thing could have been over by now.’
Chloe?
No. It can’t be her. It just can’t be.
Being down here, in the cold and the dark and the wet, has sent me mad. That’s what this must be. Right now, Fiona – the real Fiona, who is an emergency call handler, of course – is still on the other end of the line, calling my name, over and over, trying desperately to pull me back to reality. But my damaged mind has retreated. It has sent me to some alternate, upside-down universe, deep in my subconscious. Or perhaps I’ve already slipped under the water and my oxygen-starved brain is misfiring, inventing random scenarios that couldn’t possibly be real.
That must be what’s happened, because that makes a damn sight more sense than Fiona being Chloe. Anything makes more sense than that, doesn’t it?
‘Chloe …? Is that you?’
She sighs. ‘I was worried you’d worked it out ages ago.’
‘But your voice—’
‘Oh, that part was easy,’ she says, gleefully. ‘I used an app, on my computer. I’ve been using one for ages when I game online. If you don’t, you get all creepy men saying stuff to you. But if you change your voice, to like, an older woman, or a man, they mostly leave you alone.’
I know computers are capable of all sorts of things, that people can put a celebrity’s face and voice on top of another actor’s and make them say anything they want them to. But this is different. Surely Chloe couldn’t have changed her voice over a phone call?
‘That’s not possible,’ I say.
‘Of course it’s possible,’ says Chloe, with a laugh. ‘There are a few apps that’ll do it. I used one called Clownfish, because it’s free. You can change the pitch, sound like a man, a woman, or even an alien, if you want. It’s not perfect, and maybe if you weren’t so messed up you’d have realised sooner. But it did the job.’
My God, it’s really her. All this time, she’s been on the other end of the line, pretending that help was on the way.
‘But … but why?’ I stammer. ‘Why would you do this to me? My leg … you made me …’ She has tortured me, there’s no other word for it. She could have called for help, but instead she has kept me down here. She made me pull a root out of my thigh …
‘Because I wanted you to suffer, that’s why,’ she spits back. ‘And because you’re a liar. You lied about everything and I’ve given you all these chances to come clean and you still haven’t done it.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I cry. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say!’
‘I want you to tell the truth, about Connor. About what he did.’
‘But he’s innocent. He didn’t do anything. You know this, Chloe!’ God, what am I doing, arguing with her? I need to end the call right now, use whatever battery I have left to phone someone who can actually help me.
She’s still talking. ‘… you lied for him,’ she says. ‘You covered for him, again and again, and I’ve been trying to help you to come clean, to tell the truth. But you’re, like, so stubborn sometimes.’
I fumble with the phone to end the call, but the touchscreen is unable to register the press of my wet fingers.
‘Jessie? What are you doing?’ Chloe says. ‘Jessie? Don’t hang up on me. Don’t you dare hang up on me.’
‘Shut up! Shut up, shut up!’ I shout.
‘I’m the only one who can save you …’