didn’t you say it was your birthday
coming up soon?
Yeah it is
The BIG 30
So what are you gonna do for it?
A party? Invite the family?
I’m not so much a party person tbh. I’ll
probably just have a chill one, hang with
friends.
This one particularly caught my eye because I was confused as to why Layla thinks Jamie is six years older than he is: twenty-nine turning thirty. The answer comes lower down in their conversation. But when I first saw this exchange, I couldn’t help but think of the similarities with what Mr Clark said: that Layla was direct about asking his age, bringing it up a few times. And, strangely, he too is twenty-nine turning thirty. Could be a coincidence, but I felt it was at least worth making a note of.
Another weird thing is that Jamie (and Layla) keep making reference to the fact that Jamie lives alone in a small house in Kilton, which isn’t a fact at all. Again, this all became clearer when I reached the end of their conversation on Insta:
hope we can meet up one day.
Yeah sure. I’d really like that : )
Listen Layla. I have to tell you something. It’s not
easy to say it, but I really like you. Really. I haven’t
felt like this about anyone ever and so I need to
be honest with you. I’m not actually 29, I’m turning
24 in a few weeks. And I’m not a successful
portfolio manager for a financial company in
London, that wasn’t true. I’m working as a
receptionist at a job a family friend got for me. And
I don’t own a house, I live at home still with my
parents and my brother. I’m so sorry, my intention
was never to deceive anyone, especially not you.
I’m not even sure why I made up all those lies for
my profile. I made it when I was in a really bad
place, feeling very self-conscious about me, my
life or lack thereof, and so I think I just invented
the person I want to be, instead of the real me.
Which was wrong, and I’m sorry. But I hope to be
that man one day, and meeting someone like you
makes me want to try. I’m sorry Layla and I
understand if you’re angry with me. But, if it’s OK,
I’d really like to keep talking to you. You make
everything better.
Which is veeeeerrrrryyyy interesting. So, Jamie sort of catfished the catfish first. Lying on his Tinder profile about his age, his job, his living arrangements. He explained it best himself: it was insecurity. I wonder if these insecurities are related to what happened with Nat da Silva, feeling like he lost someone so important to him to an older guy like Luke Eaton. In fact, I wonder whether Luke is twenty-nine and that’s why Jamie picked that age, as a sort of confidence boost, or a rationalisation in his head of why Nat chose Luke and not him.
After that long message, Layla stops replying to Jamie for three days. During that time, Jamie keeps trying, until he finds something that works:
Layla, please talk to me.
Let me explain
I am very truly sorry
I would never want to upset you ever
I understand if you never talk to
me again.
But you haven’t blocked me, so
maybe there’ s a chance?
Layla, please talk to me
I care about you a lot.
I would do anything for you
Anything?
Oh my god hi Yes. Anything. I’d do
anything for you. I swear. I promise
ok
hey what’s your number? Let’s
move this over to WhatsApp
I’m so happy you’re speaking to me
again. I’m 07700900472
I don’t know, there’s something about this exchange that gives me chills. She ignores him for three days and then she just comes back with that ‘Anything?’ It feels creepy, but maybe those are just my residual feelings from my one small exchange with Layla. Who is Layla? Nothing here gives me any real identifying marks. She’s very careful, good at being the right amount of vague. If only she’d given Jamie her phone number instead of asking for his, I’d be in a different position now: able to call Layla directly, or look up the number. But here I am, still hanging on those two questions. Who really is Layla? And how is she involved in Jamie’s disappearance?
Other notes
I looked up heart rate information, I just needed some context about what I was seeing in these graphs. But now I wish I hadn’t. Jamie’s heart rate spikes up to 126 in that initial stationary period at 12:02 a.m., and then it races up to 158 just before the data cuts out. But that range of beats per minute – the experts say – is what they might consider the heart rate of someone who is experiencing a fight-or-flight response.
WEDNESDAY
5 DAYS MISSING
Hello everyone,
As you might have heard, Connor Reynolds’ older brother, Jamie, has been missing for 5 days now, and I am looking into his disappearance for my podcast.
But I need your help! I’ve recently uncovered some information that provides an approximate area for Jamie’s last known location. This area needs to be searched for any sign or clue as to where exactly Jamie was on Friday night and what happened to him. But the area is quite large, so I’m in desperate need of volunteers to help in the search.
If you would like to offer a hand, please meet after school today, 4:30 p.m., at the end of the car park for the briefing. If we have enough volunteers, we’ll be splitting into three search teams, led by me, Connor Reynolds and Cara Ward. Please come and find one of us to be assigned to a team.
Thank you, and please let me know if you’re intending to come.
X
Twenty-Five
Every step she took was considered, careful, staring down at the forest floor and the mud that bunched up around the outline of her shoes. A record of her having been there, a trail of imprints that stalked her through the woods. But she was looking for someone else’s prints: the jagged vertical lines on the soles of the Puma trainers Jamie had been wearing when he disappeared.
And so was everyone else, eyes down and circling, searching for any of the signs Pip had mentioned in the briefing. Eighty-eight volunteers had turned up after school, most from her year but a few year twelves too. Thirty people on Connor’s team, now searching the fields behind school, and knocking on doors down the far end of Martinsend Way, Acres End and the lower part of Tudor Lane, to ask residents if they’d seen Jamie between 12:02 and 12:28 a.m. Friday night. Twenty-nine people on Cara’s team, who were further north, combing through the fields and farmland up near Old Farm Road and Blackfield Lane. And twenty-nine people here with Pip, standing in a wide ant-line, staggered every two metres as they searched from one end of Lodge Wood to the other.
Well, thirty people, now that Ravi had joined them. Max’s trial had adjourned early today; it had been Max’s turn on the stand and – Ravi told her reluctantly with a glint in his eyes that looked like hate – Max and his lawyer had done an alright job. They’d prepared an answer to everything the prosecution threw at him in cross-examination. Closing remarks from both sides had followed and then the judge sent the jury off to deliberate.
‘I can’t wait to see his face tomorrow when he goes down. Wish I could record it for you,’ Ravi had said, using his foot to check inside a holly bush, reminding Pip of that time they were in these very woods, recreating Andie Bell’s murder to prove Sal didn’t have time to be the killer.