Page 164 of Stolen

‘Your call,’ Quinn says.

I can’t do this any more. I always said I’d never stop looking for Lottie, but I can’t keep riding these tsunamis of alternating hope and despair. I’m jumping at shadows, suspicious of everything, trusting no one. In the last two days, I’ve accused my sister and my former mother-in-law, with little evidence for either. It has to stop.

‘Mind if I use the bathroom?’ Quinn asks Elena.

She points to a door near the iron gate. ‘Questo è il più vicino.’

As Quinn tries to open the door to the lavatory, it jams. Something is evidently caught beneath it, and she struggles to free it with just her good hand.

I go over to help her and then stop. My blood turns to ice.

The reason the door won’t open is because, crammed beneath it by little fingers, are a dozen small pieces of paper.