“Be right there.”
The officer gave Vince their location and then fixed Alec with a steely look, practically daring him to make a move. Of all the jobs to get nabbed on, this was the one where he absolutely couldn’t afford failure. And yet it was looming ever closer as a second police car turned the corner behind him, boxing him in, and then the woman he’d just robbed was looking right at him, her son hidden behind her.
“This him?” the officer beside her asked, and she nodded.
“Yes. That’s the man who was in my house.”
Alec’s eyes cut left and right, still searching for a way out of this, even as handcuffs closed around his wrists, the metal cold on his skin as the officer pulled Alec’s arms behind his back.
Alec tipped his head up to the sky as he was led to the police car, focused on the kiss of the mist against his face. He heard the door open, then felt the officer’s hand on his head, pushing him down onto the seat, and then the door slammed shut, swallowing him whole.
I’m sorry.
Three
A hand on my elbow drew me to a halt as Fletcher, Dunnel, and I made our way across the station floor towards the interrogation room where our witness waited. A young Japanese man dressed in a wool coat and glasses stood at my side, looking at me with wild, nervous eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said, glancing pointedly at his hand. “But I’m actually in the middle of something. Any of the uniformed officers will be able to help you.”
“Please, I tried that,” the young man said as I began to pull away. Something in his voice made me pause. It was strained and tight, each syllable quavering even as he fought to keep it steady. “Everyone I’ve talked to just keeps pointing me towards someone else.” He spoke with a proper English accent, the way English as a second language was taught in most Asian countries.
I glanced at Dunnel, who flicked his eyes towards the waiting interrogation room. I shook my head slightly, telling him to wait as I turned my attention back towards the young man. “What’s the problem?” I asked.
He finally took his hand off my elbow so he could fish his phone from his pocket. “Someone’s been following me for the past week, I’m sure of it. I’ve got pictures. If you would just look at them…” Desperation made his words tumble over each other as he fumbled to unlock his phone with trembling fingers. He clearly wanted someone, anyone, to believe him, and I felt a flash of anger that the other constables had been brushing him off.
“I’ll look at them, okay? I promise,” I said in what I hoped was a soothing tone. “Do you think you could wait for me for a little bit? I’ve just had a case dropped in my lap, and I’ve got a witness to question.”
The young man nodded a couple of times, hands closing over his phone as if it were a lifeline. “Okay. Sure.”
“My desk is right over there.” I pointed it out to him. “Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll have someone bring you some tea or coffee?”
“Okay, yeah, thank you,” the young man said, continuing to nod like he’d lost control of the motion. “You won’t be long?”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Not long at all. Try to relax.”
I crooked my finger to summon a nearby constable, asking her to lead the young man to my desk and bring him something to drink while he waited. He perched in the chair, looking like he was ready to bolt at any moment.
“Can we get back to your actual case now?” Dunnel interrupted. “There’s a frightened woman waiting in interrogation.”
“Of course,” I said. “Sorry.”
Dunnel led the way to the small room off the back of the main floor, ushering us into the small side chamber behind the sheet of two-way mirror so he could give us a quick rundown of what he knew.
I looked through the two-way mirror into the interrogation room at the distraught woman seated at the table. Her mascara ran down her cheeks, revealing red-rimmed eyes, and she clutched several tissues in one fist, though she seemed to have forgotten they were there. A button on her blouse was askew, her blonde curls barely contained by a red scrunchie, and even through the mirror, I could tell that she was shaking. Another officer sat in the room with her, holding her hand and speaking to her in a low, comforting tone.
“Ainslee Wair. Her child is missing,” Dunnel explained. “He didn’t come home from school two days ago.”
“And she’s only just come in?” Fletcher asked.
“Forty-eight hours. She called that evening, but we couldn’t treat it as a missing persons case until now.”
“The father?”
“Not in the picture.”
One fist clenched by my side. I thought of another man, tall, owning far too many blue jumpers, glasses always perched atop his head, and I thought of a closed door and a missing car, and I had to grit my teeth against the anger that still filled me even after all these years.
No doubt Dunnel noticed. That may be why he assigned me this case in the first place.
“We’ll go talk to her,” I said and gave Fletcher a nod towards the door. She had changed out of her athletic gear into a white shirt and black blazer, her hair twisted into a simple braid that fell over one shoulder. We hadn’t had a chance to meet yet, not really, but that could wait until later.
She let me lead the way into the interrogation room, and I put on my best smile for Ainslee Wair. “Ms Wair. I’m DCI MacBain, and this is my partner, DI Fletcher. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”
Ainslee sniffed and wiped her nose and nodded, offering
