floor.
51
The child came to him. The Traveller simply stood and watched her approach from his position behind the curved wall. All the time she had sat eating her sweets with the big cop opposite her, she kept looking the Traveller’s way. More than once he found himself unable to return her stare, her eyes so bright and knowing. Like she could see the ugly things in his head, swirling and snapping at one another.
And here she came, her doll hanging loose by her side. The naked plastic body made echoes of some buried memory sound behind his eyes. He blinked them away, and a burst of pain like hot needles forced his teeth together.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘What do you want?’
The Traveller stared down at her, unsure how to answer the question. He looked back towards the cop who turned in a circle, horror breaking on his face.
‘Do you know Gerry?’ the girl asked.
The Traveller licked his upper lip. ‘Yeah,’ he said. He took her hand. ‘Come on.’
They were halfway down the curving flight of stairs, ducking between patients and staff, when a voice called, ‘Ellen.’ It was weak, frightened. If the child heard, she didn’t react.
The Traveller quickened his step, the girl dragging on his hand. ‘This way,’ he said as they reached the ground floor. The Quiet Room stood to their right, facing the shop he’d watched them in a few minutes before.
‘Ellen!’
Louder now, not quite panic yet, but an angry edge.
The girl resisted, turned to look for the voice that called her name. The Traveller pulled harder. He scanned the shifting crowd for concerned onlookers as they passed the information desk. No one paid attention, so he marched to the Quiet Room, ignored the flare of pain as he shouldered the door open. Low lighting, a hush in the air despite the room being empty but for him and the child. The door swung closed, sealing them in.
Ellen tried to pull her fingers away from his, but he held firm. His breath sounded alien in this dim and silent place. He realised he didn’t know what to do next.
Sweat prickled his skin and he swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. The child had come to him, sought him out. Stupid. He’d never been stupid in his life. He couldn’t afford to be. Rash, yes, but never stupid. Not like this. All because the little girl came to him.
A strange and horrible idea burst in his mind. It took hold, bright and unyielding as only the truth can be. He looked down at the child. She smiled back up at him and all doubt was gone.
He had not captured her.
She had captured him.
52
Lennon forced the panic back down to his gut, willed himself to be calm even amongst the nausea and trembling. He turned another circle, picking over every detail, looking behind and through the people. He called her name again. Some glanced up from their trays of food, others ignored him.
The cleaner slipped past, and he grabbed her sleeve.
She spun, pulled her arm away. ‘What do you think you’re—’
‘Have you seen her?’
‘What?’ Her face turned from anger to confusion and back again. ‘Seen who?’
‘The little girl.’ Lennon grabbed her shoulders. ‘She was with me just now. By the bin. You were putting some rubbish in. She’s about five or six, blonde hair.’
Her expression softened. ‘No, I never saw her. Have you lost her?’
Lennon turned another circle, searching, the panic climbing back up to his throat.
The woman pulled on his shoulder. ‘You’d best go down to reception. They’ll announce it on the speakers. She’ll be all right, don’t you—’
He walked away, calling, ‘Ellen? Ellen!’
The tide of people on the stairs pushed against him as he descended to the ground floor. He moved faster, ignoring their complaints as he shoved them aside.
‘Ellen!’
A security guard left his post at the exit and approached. ‘You all right there, big fella?’ he asked.
‘My daughter,’ Lennon said, continuing to turn and search. ‘She’s gone.’
‘Well don’t worry, we’ll get an announcement out. Kids are always getting bored and wandering—’
Lennon gripped the guard’s shirt collar. ‘You don’t understand. Someone might have taken her.’
‘All right, all right.’ He prised Lennon’s fingers away. ‘No need to be putting your hands on me, sir. We’ll get it sorted, but just keep the head, okay?’
‘Call the police, Grosvenor Road is closest. Tell them DCI Lennon needs urgent assistance. Tell them a child’s in trouble.’
‘You’re a peeler?’ the guard asked.
Lennon grabbed his tie, brought the guard’s nose to his. ‘Just fucking call them!’
53
‘You can’t get away,’ the child said.
‘I know,’ the Traveller said.
He examined the door for a way to lock it, but there was none. He turned a circle, looking for another exit, but there was none. The quiet pressed hard against his temples, the dimly lit walls butting against his vision, the low rows of seats advancing towards him.
‘Jesus fucking bastard of a—’
The girl tugged at his hand. ‘You said a bad word.’
The Traveller pulled his hand away from hers. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Why did you do that?’
She sat down on one of the benches, arranged the doll in a standing pose on her lap. ‘Do what?’
‘Come to me,’ he said. ‘Why’d you do that?’
‘To say hello.’ She walked the doll back and forth along the bench.
Maybe he could just walk out and leave her here. Maybe he could slip out of the main doors, past the bloody snake on the pillar, and run. And maybe not. ‘Christ,’ he said.
‘Do you know Gerry?’
You asked me that already,’ he said. Standing here fretting was doing no good, so he sat down beside her. ‘I said yes, didn’t I?’
‘Do you really know him?’
He wrung his hands together, trying to force his mind into action. ‘No, I don’t. Why are you so bloody worried whether I know Gerry Fegan or not? Why would I know him, for Christ’s sake?’
The girl leaned close until her shoulder pressed against his arm. He inched away.
You’ve got friends like him,’ she whispered.
‘What?’ He turned to see her hard blue eyes.
‘Secret friends,’ she said.
He laughed, but it died in his throat.
Her gaze did not waver. ‘Lots and lots of them,’ she said.
‘What are you talking about?’ He stood, wiped his sweating palms on his jeans.
She brought a finger to her lips, shush, and gave him a conspiratorial smile.
‘What are you talking about, “friends”?’
She grinned, then, and giggled. ‘It’s a secret.’
‘Jesus,’ the Traveller said, making for the door. ‘Fuck this for a game of soldiers, I’m getting out. Don’t follow me.’
