He handed me the blue folder.
‘This is her file,’ he said. ‘If anybody asks, I never gave you this, you don’t have it.’
CONFIDENTIAL was stamped across the front. I opened it up. Inside was the photograph he’d given me, lots of photocopied sheets of paper filled with handwriting, and other assorted cuttings. A Polaroid photo fell out of the pile and I picked it up. It was a picture of Kayla and another girl with short blonde hair. Kayla was blowing up a big pink balloon and the other girl was holding it and laughing. I could see something written on the back. I turned it round, and printed in black lettering was the following:
Kayla Edwards invites you to her 18th Birthday Party
This Thursday.
Location: Her House! 25 Sycamore Rd, Dublin 6.
Time: 8 p.m. till late.
‘She went missing two years ago,’ said Matt. ‘On the night of her eighteenth birthday party. She left the house at twelve thirty a.m. and went to the shop with two of her friends. On their way back to the party her friends decided to go home, and they parted company with Kayla at the top of her road at approximately twelve fifty a.m. There’s been no trace of her since.’
I vaguely remembered hearing about it on the news. She didn’t live too far from our old house. I remembered thinking it was terrible, but then the media coverage died down and I’d forgotten about it just as quickly.
‘Did they find anything?’ I asked. ‘Like her clothes, her bag?’
‘No. Nothing.’
Great. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be easy.