White Bodies: A gripping psychological thriller for fans of Clare Mackintosh and Lisa Jewell. Jane Robins

It’s an online rant by Travis Scott a month before he attacked Chloey, and posted on a website called RevengeBuddies, which allows its members to fantasise about pay-back plans for all sorts of behaviour, most of it trivial – leaving bags of dog poo on the pavement, wearing leaky headphones, putting a ‘baby on board’ sticker on your car – but one section is devoted to violent threats against feminists who post messages on Twitter. Travis’s comments are in the romance section.

      His spelling is worse than Belle’s, but that isn’t the main point. What sticks out is the force of his message – the pain he’s been feeling, the desperation. All he could think about was Chloey. My Chloey is prettyer than any model. Her beuty comes from the inside she is a PERFECT girl and our love is perfect and without her I wudnt want to live but I Know she is sometimes thinking of someone else, and who it is. Hes called Cameron and hes suposed to be my mate Im not going to take this believe me she is making a mistack. He went on for ages like that, and added more a day later, when Chloey had dumped him. Believe me I wud never harm Chloey she is a good girl but love is biger than a single persons feelings it gos deep like a knife and takes over so you have to do what you have to do it cant be helped. One day she will feel pain like I do, then she will understand.

      This puke is vile, writes Scarlet. His language is so menacing. My X says the same things – he doesn’t want to go on living without me, I am the only woman he could ever love, he thinks I want to leave him. He’s right, I do want to leave – but you know why I can’t. Blood will be shed unless we take control and do something.

      I didn’t expect this. Scarlet’s usually the one to calm us down, and tell us not to catastrophise. Also, I can’t think what she might mean – because the whole point is that the Prey don’t have any control, that they are in an impossible situation. So I write in the dossier that Scarlet is just expressing frustration, especially when she uses that ugly word – puke.

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      Wilf comes into the shop clutching his Jo Nesbo but then he doesn’t mention the book, or say that he’s looking for another one to read. Instead he just stands at the counter, focussing on the reserved-items shelf above my head. I study his arms. He has rolled up his shirt sleeves and I inspect the dark-red hairs on white skin, the square tips to his fingers, the dirt under his nails. I’m about to do my, ‘Can I help you?’ knowing I’m being way too formal – it’s Wilf after all – but before the words come out, he says, ‘I was wondering, Callie, would you like to meet for lunch today? At the Albany?’ I’m not sure that I’ve heard right, and I mumble, something like, ‘What? Did you say lunch?’ But I had