“She’s English. Long brown hair, brown eyes. She drives a beat-up old orange car. She’s got a little tattoo of a fairy behind her ear.” I’m silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, what did you call her?” “Jenny Adams? Jennifer? Please, if you know where she is, tell me. She just disappeared a few weeks ago, I’ve been going mad, worrying about her.” “Who are you?” I demand. “I’m her boyfriend.”
