I don’t believe this is happening.

I don’t know how much longer this site will be operational. I’m in an internet cafe as the university have taken my computers. Even my personal laptop. I thought my office had been burgled when I arrived first thing this morning.

Then I caught a glimpse of my lab assistant carting one of my computer towers off for a ’routine inspection’.

But it’s worse than that.

They’re accusing me of trying to incite the students with my ‘flights of fancy’. Of not doing my job. Of tampering with the tissue samples that I’ve been trusted with. They’re re-calling things on my staff record that have been supposedly ‘questionable‘ for years now.

But this is all kicking off now for one reason… Gareth Lyons is dead.

I have to go to the Police station now. I was the last person he called on his phone. I don’t know all the details yet but…look here’s the message he left me. We can probably work out what happened.

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I don’t know what I’m going to say. I still haven’t found out enough about this Milo. But a girl, who common sense tells us is dead, is still intent on finding him. And in September, in Salford, she knows where he’ll be.

Caitlin, if you’re still reading. Please… get in touch with your parents.

Anne.