I’m getting complacent, she thinks to herself. Since my health is okay and Lev is almost done with, I’m not being careful anymore.
“But that’s not the only reason I wanted to speak to you, I got news of a cancellation at the medical centre, you can have your M.R.I scan if you still want it?”
“Oh,” Elian’s heart leaps. “Really, doctor?”
He smiles kindly and pats her arm. “And I shall accompany you there, young lady. The machine can be noisy and a little traumatising, especially for those that suffer with claustrophobic tendencies, but I’ll not be far away.”
Elian tries to return his smile but knows it looks more like a grimace. She’s trying to think of a way to politely refuse his offer of chaperoning her, but he’s reaching into his pocket again and he produces a small card. She squints at his scribbled handwriting.
“Come to the surgery next Tuesday, the 14th. Around 9 a.m. and don’t drink or eat anything after midnight on Monday.”
He’s waiting for a response and she manages to nod her ascent. He claps his hands together, glances around and says a cheery goodbye.
Elian watches as moves up onto the promenade and makes his way slowly down past the pier. She wonders why he’s walked all the way down here before dawn, or if he drove. Where did he park his car?
The notebook is crushing her chest through her hoodie and she holds it at arms length and gazes at it. Could it be that he didn’t read it? Maybe she’s just so suspicious of everyone and everything and it might be that he is just a kind, albeit lonely, man.
She’ll never know, not for sure, and there’s no sense in adding it to her already large list of worries.
And she’s got an M.R.I appointment. That’s one piece of good news. Regardless of the results she’ll know what her situation is, whether it is just psychological trauma or a real injury.
The sun is coming up for real now, dancing on the surface of the sea as the orb shines bright with promise of another hot day.
Suddenly Elian feels very tired, and as she clutches the card and the notebook tightly, she makes her way back to the apartment, knowing that this time when she crawls into her bed, she’ll sleep soundly.
53
ERIK FONS & ALEX HARVEY
HOOFDBUREAU
11.7.15 Early morning
Alex calls Luke’s mobile as soon as they reach the police station. He can feel Erik’s eyes on him, and he knows that the Inspectuer wants to berate him for his use of the office phone. He also knows Erik won’t chastise him, Alex is needed now, and they both know it.
“Luke, its Al, what have you got for me?” Alex asks as his friend and sometime colleague answers the telephone.
“Jesus, Al, do you know what time it is?”
Alex glances at his watch. It’s 6 a.m. here and he can’t remember what the time is back home. Either way, it’s early, too early for telephone calls.
“Sorry, dude,” replies Alex guiltily. “I just got your message that you’ve got the test results.”
There’s a pause as Alex waits. He hears coughing, muffled whispers and then Luke comes back on the line. “You’ve got company?” Alex asks.
“Maybe.” There is a smile in Luke’s tone and Alex feels a momentary pang for the similar life he used to lead.
Used to being the operative word. He can’t remember the last time he thought about picking up a woman. June 3rd is the last date etched on his mind. The first – and only time – he bedded Elian and around the time he stopped looking at all the other women who crossed his path.
“So, what have you go for me?”
Luke clears his throat. “Niko Lipin is the biological father.”
Alex releases his breath and sinks into a chair. “What?”
“Niko Lipin, the deceased–”
“I heard you,” interrupts Alex. “I just can’t believe it.”
Although it was always the more likely choice, after all, Afia had spent years with Niko; she had only met Klim once a year, the odds were always going to be in that bastards favour. But it seems so awfully unfair that wicked, despicable Niko is Elian’s father, rather than solid, decent Klim.
“Anything else, mate? Or can I get back to bed now?” asks Luke.
“No, thank you so much. Actually, can you scan a copy of it over to me?” Alex reels off his mobile and hangs up.
Minutes later his phone pings and he brings the image up on the screen. It is true, Niko is 99.97800% likely to be the father of Elian Gould. He shuts off the phone and shoves it in his pocket. He is desperately sad, and it’s a new feeling for him, to care so much about someone else’s bad news.
“Erik!” He calls, striding over to where the Inspectuer has spread out all of the murdered victim’s files. “Have you run Elian’s name through your system yet?”
Erik looks up, his eyes wearier than ever, and Alex reminds himself that it’s been at least a couple of days since the man slept.
“Let’s do it now,” he replies and wheels his chair over to the nearest monitor.
As Erik logs on Alex sits down next to him. “Maybe you should get some rest after this, you haven’t slept in days.”
Erik ignores the comment about getting rest and when the system is booted up he turns to Alex. “What’s her name?”
“Elian Gould,” replies Alex and spells out both names.
The database is linked with all police and emergency services throughout Holland. Knowing that the missing girl has only been here a few weeks, Erik tweaks his computerised commands to only show any active status for the last week of June and the first week of July.
