“Amanda?” came the familiar voice of the deputy as soon as Amanda took the call. “Is that you?”
“Morning, Mr Chester. I didn’t mean to disturb you, only…”
“No need to apologise, my dear. Indeed, was it not I who contacted you?”
“Is it about the case?”
“Yes and no.”
“I suppose you could say that I’ve made a bit of progress down here. I’ve already met up with three of the four on the list, but I don’t really feel like I’ve found out anything about the attack.”
“Well, that’s all well and good. Give me one moment,” said the deputy without waiting for Amanda to reply. Amanda could hear as the deputy put the phone down and proceeded to talk with someone who must have been in his room. Despite her best efforts, she could not hear enough of the conversation to make anything of it. “You still there, Amanda?” he continued.
“Still here.”
“Right, first thing. For the moment, you can forget about the interviews. Just pack what you have gathered together so far, as quickly as you can, and make your way back here.”
“But…”
“Do not worry, Ms Blake. You can return to your work as soon as you have helped us resolve another issue. You see, it’s the boy. He’s missing.”
Chapter 4
Amanda slouched down on a mustard-coloured chair, which was situated on the edge of the service station’s main seating area, after surreptitiously consuming one of her bags of blood in the toilet. Though she knew that she could be wasting valuable time by stopping at a service station, not long after she had left her Radcliff hotel Amanda had started to feel the familiar pang of hunger gnawing at the edges of her willpower. She had to drink, but her supplies were in the boot of her Clio, meaning she had to stop somewhere. What was more, past experience had made it quite clear to Amanda that you were not only all too visible if you tried to drink in a car but you could also very easily end up spilling blood. As she did not want to have to deal with the tempting aroma of blood for the rest of the long drive ahead of her, or get caught, the obvious thing to do was a short stay at the roadside services.
She had given herself a minute or two to settle down after the intake of blood - it always took a little while for her to clear her head afterwards - and had bought herself a croissant to occupy herself with as she waited. She had once loved eating croissants, but now she only enjoyed the smell when they were still warm; all she did with the thing was to tear it slowly apart. A few more shreds of the cold pastry found their way onto the shiny surface of the table top before she had had enough. She pushed the small mess she had created to one side and retrieved her phone to check if she had missed another message from deputy.
There were no texts or any missed calls. Amanda let the phone fall out of her hand and clank on the table. She leant back in her chair and looked at a couple of the seemingly alone and probably lonely transport drivers tucking into their fast food, before turning to an exhausted and undernourished looking mother who was ignoring her two young boys as they threw the contents of nearby plant pots at one another. Without really meaning to, one of the boys managed to get a little soil in the eye of the other. With immediate effect, the game was over and the injured little man ran over to his mother to moan about the terrible actions of his brother and to get a little sympathy for what had transpired.
“That boy could be anywhere, but he’s likely to go one place more than anywhere else,” Amanda muttered to herself, wondering why the deputy would want her to return to the school rather than just stay near Brenden’s home in Radcliff. Was it not possible that the boy had jumped on a coach and was at that very moment passing by on the motorway just outside the service station? If the boy was to head anywhere, surely it would be his mother’s house.
She picked up her phone once more and, as a service station worker quietly cleared away the remains of her croissant, she called the deputy. The ringing tone sounded again and again until Amanda started to doubt that she was doing the right thing, but before she could change her mind she heard the voice of the deputy.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mr Martin. Sorry, I mean, Mr Chester. It’s Amanda.”
“Ah, Amanda? Is something wrong?”
“No, I’m still on my way. I just wanted to call, though, to ask if I’m doing the right thing. Don’t you think that Brenden could be on his way back to Radcliff? I could still turn around, I’ve only been on the road for about half an hour and could easily make my way back.”
The deputy gave no reply.
“Hello? Martin, are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m still here. I was thinking about what you just said. Yes, it could be the case that the boy might make his way to Radcliff: it’s a possibility. However, I have a few reasons to doubt that he has started such a journey. You see, he has no money, as far as we’re aware, and the
