“Hi! This is Ben Ramsey, I’m not here right now. Please leave a message after the tone.” I pictured his phone screen. 12 missed calls, 3 voicemails, mailbox full. Flash. Flash. Flash. I tapped a message out on my screen. “Ben, it’s Katy, I’m on the way over, if this is a gag I’m not laughing.” I tried to keep it light, keep it normal, brother sister stuff, tried to fool myself. Ben lived south of the river, a flat in one of those old Victorian mansions with a garden and ceiling roses. Dusk was coming down as I walked up the street, pulling my coat tight around me against the November bite, checking over my shoulder. The windows were dark but I pressed the buzzer anyway, peered through the front room, hearing it faintly through the glass. Feeling like a tv cop I reluctantly pressed the other buzzers for the building. No one answered but the door clicked and released. I hesitated on the front step then went in. His opposite neighbour, Kaleesh, was in his doorway, looking at me expectantly. “Hi, um, I’m here to see Ben?” He nodded and closed his door, leaving me stuck in the hallway alone. Taking out my phone I scrolled to Ben’s number and called again, listening for the electronic cheep of the old school Nokia ringtone. Kelly, my housemate, said why not try find my phone, but he’d changed it after he, after he thought he could be tracked. “Hi! This is Ben Ramsay, I’m not here right now...” I hung up. Shit. Banged on the door. “Ben! BEN! Open the fucking...open the door! Open the DOOR!” Nothing. Maybe there was a key, where would he put a key? I ran my fingers around the doorframe, stretching on tiptoes , flipped the doormat, turned out a vase of fake flowers on a table in the hall, dug into the umbrella stand. Shit shit shit.