Page 61 of A Game of Lies

When the contestants reach theExposurecamp, they meet Roxy Wilde. They actually met her at breakfast, but they’ve been instructed to pretend this is the first time they’ve seen her, and Ryan feels self-conscious as he shakes her hand and says, ‘Hi, I’m Ryan.’ The others are better at acting. Ryan would swear blind Henry and Pam had never seen Roxy before, and even Lucas, the vicar, clasps her hand with believable sincerity.

‘Are you guys excited?’ Roxy leads them in a cheer.

‘Bring it on!’ cries Jason.

‘I amsoup for this!’ Aliyah says.

Ryan adds hiswhoop!to the others’ cheers.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Roxy says. ‘You think you’re here for a survival show, don’t you?’

‘We are!’ Henry shouts.

Ryan’s anxiety jangles. There’s something in Roxy’s eyes, beneath the twinkles and the wink.

‘You’re wrong.’

When Roxy Wilde tells them the true objective ofExposure, Ryan floats out of his body. He hovers above the camp, watching himself shrink, taking in the horrified faces of his fellow contestants. Jason runs at Roxy, and there’s a moment where it looks like there’ll be a full-blown fight, until Henry pulls him back and says, ‘There must be some mistake – let’s hear them out.’ Only there isn’t a mistake, is there? They’re really planning to expose everyone’s darkest secrets.

Ryan thinks about his job in a software engineering firm, and what it will be like if his colleagues find out. He thinks about his parents, who should be allowed to go to their graves without trying to understand something Ryan hardly understands himself. He thinks about his daughter, and what the kids at school will say to her.

Pam is marching up to Roxy and Owen. ‘Turn off that camera right this second.’

‘You can’t do this,’ Aliyah sobs. ‘We didn’t agree to it.’

‘Actually,’ Owen says, ‘you’ll find it’s all covered in the small print.Young Productions reserves the right to alter, amend, rework, etcetera etcetera.’

Ryan is spiralling. His chest is tight and he feels the same spacey, out-of-body experience he felt as he waited for Jessica to come home from Pilates. He wants to leave, but he can’t move, and if he leaves, he’ll have to explain himself.

It’s over. His life is over.

And it’s all Miles Young’s fault.

TWENTY-THREE

SUNDAY | FFION

By the time Ffion has sent Huw on his way, and circled back to the entrance of Carreg Plas, there’s a crime scene vehicle parked by the gate, next to Jim’s dog van. A volley of barks coming from the courtyard suggests Foster has already been put to work, and Ffion’s relieved not to have the complicating factor of Dave, who would no doubt want to play.

At six o’clock this morning, Ffion had coaxed a reluctant Dave around the side of Mam’s house and posted him through the back door. ‘Shh!’ she said, as he began whining. ‘You’ll wake—’

‘Ffion Morgan!’ Mam had appeared in the kitchen in her dressing gown. ‘You’re lucky I haven’t got a shotgun.’

‘I used my key, Mam. Burglars don’t use—’

Mam eyed Dave with distaste. ‘It’s not the burglars I want it for.’

‘Please, Mam. This missing person case is dragging on and I haven’t a minute to sort out a permanent solution. Just today. Please.Caru ti… Love you.’ Ffion scarpered, half expecting to be rugby tackled on the path by Dave on an early escape bid.

Much as it pains her to admit it, Huw’s right about Dave. Ffion needs to call the shelter and ask them to take him back. She’s used every dog walker in the area, and all have refused to have Dave again. Such is his reputation, a walker in a village ten miles away refused without meeting him. As soon as this job is squared away, Ffion will go on bended knee to the shelter and admit defeat.

There’s no sign of Jim and Foster when Ffion reaches the courtyard. A CSI tent has been erected in front of Miles’s studio at the entrance to the crime scene and a uniformed officer stands guard. It’s started to drizzle. Glistening droplets cling to the fabric of the tent, and the officer turns up his collar.

Ffion hears a series of excitable barks. Seconds later, Foster emerges from behind the block of stable rooms, Jim feeding out the long lead. The dog’s picked up a scent. They head off up the mountain trail and Ffion watches until they disappear into the trees. They’re heading straight for theExposurecamp.

‘FME’s pronounced life extinct, and CSI have filmed the body in situ,’ Leo says. ‘DCI Boccacci’s authorised a transferral to the morgue.’

They wait in the tent as Miles is moved from chair to bag. It’s a laborious process, filmed every step of the way by a Crime Scene Investigator. Miles’s hands have been wrapped in bags to preserve evidence that might be trapped beneath his fingernails, and on a large sheet of paper next to the body bag the CSI has laid out the contents of Miles’s pockets: a wallet, a watch and an iPhone. Ffion bags each one separately and begins filling out exhibit tags.

---