He had taken his first sip of latte when a phone call came through. Ilene Chan, a secretary in the High Court, one of the people keeping tabs on the judge.
‘Alex?’
‘What is it?’
‘He’s gone, early this morning. I’m sorry I didn’t realise until now. There was a problem in the trial …’
‘What time?’
‘Before eleven.’
‘Which car, Ilene?’
‘I checked a moment ago. The Honda’s gone. I’m sorry, Alex.’
Alex felt the weight of dread settle on him. His flesh crawled. He sensed the ending was about to begin. ‘Thanks Ilene.’
He cut the line, steadied his breathing, called Rose. Tried to keep his voice light. Tried not to show the panic he felt. ‘Hey. Just checking. How’s our dinner coming along tonight? Did you manage to find all the ingredients?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘What about the tomatoes? Were they Italian?’
‘I bought them from Juliana’s, and the eggplants, and the cheese. Parmigiano Reggiano. Basil from my garden.’ He could hear the smile in her voice. ‘You’re bringing the meat, aren’t you?’
‘Oh, yes. I wouldn’t trust you to pick the perfect cut. Not yet, anyway.’
‘One day, then?’
He heard the query in her voice. The hope. ‘One day soon. No, why not now? It’s a beautiful day. I’ll take the rest of the afternoon off and—’
‘Oh. Just a minute.’ He heard her footsteps echoing on the wooden floors. ‘There’s a little Westie in the garden. Oh, I know her. She’s the sweetest little dog. I’ve met her on the beach. She must be lost.’
‘Rose.’
‘I can hardly hear you, Alex. It’s very noisy.’ She was shouting. ‘Are you in a restaurant? Oh, the dog is coming up the front steps, and my cat …. Oh, my God, the cat! He’s about to attack. I’ll call you back in a minute or two.’
‘Wait!’ he shouted, but he was talking to a dead line.
* Rose opened the front door and the little Westie was there wagging its tail. It smiled at her and trotted straight into the lounge. The cat followed it inside, hissed and then, furious, tail in the air, marched back into the garden.
Rose laughed. ‘You funny little thing. Where’s your dad, he must be here somewhere? I can’t imagine you’re on
your own.’
The dog pranced over to her, excited, happy. Rose peered outside and saw the man running up the path.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, breathless, ‘has she gone inside?’
‘Yes,’ Rose laughed. ‘Walked in as if she owned the place.’
‘I do apologise. Do you mind if I come in and get her?’ He was breathing hard. ‘Unlike her to lead me a merry chase.’
‘No. She’s usually so well-behaved. Come in.’ She stepped back to let the man in, saw him bend down to the dog, pull out a lead from his pocket and attach it to her collar.
‘She’s a sweet little thing,’ Rose said. What a funny bloke he is, she thought, in his sunglasses, sun hat, Birkenstocks and a little backpack on his shoulders. She noticed his Birkenstocks were too large for him, the soles at least one size bigger than his feet.
The man latched the dog lead around the leg of a chair and stood up.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ said Rose, and for the first time she felt a moment’s discord.
‘I think I should.’ He shrugged off his backpack. ‘I don’t want her getting into places she shouldn’t. Sometimes she’s a naughty girl.’
Rose, her unease growing, watched as he reached into the backpack and pulled out a long lightweight plastic raincoat, put it on and did it up.
‘Is it going to rain?’ She started to back away from him, the universe tilting, terror flooding through her.
‘No, I don’t think so.’ The man took off his hat and sunglasses, put them in his backpack, kicked the front door closed with his foot and looked straight at her.
‘No. I think the forecast for this afternoon is fine, Rose,’ he said, staring at her with his sky-blue eyes.
* Alex put the phone back in his pocket. The cafe was crowded, noisy with its polished concrete floors and he’d strained to hear Rose. He was filled with apprehension. The judge was on the loose. He stared at the food and felt a stillness come over him. A tug of memory. A little Westie in the garden. The sweetest little dog. That’s what she had said. And as Marion had said, He’s got the cutest little dog, a Westie, I think, just as Jessica had said, A darling little West Highland Terrier.
Alex struggled to breathe. Fear, cold like ice, pulsed through his body. It was him. He was sure of it. In a moment of clarity, he knew. The judge was there with Rose.
He stood up and ran out of the restaurant towards the car. A waitress, startled, chased after him.
‘Hey, you haven’t paid!’ she shrieked, her voice loud, causing people on the pavement to turn and stare. He ignored her, leapt into the car, and yelled at his phone to call Rose as he started driving. Flicking on the lights and siren, he turned in the face of oncoming traffic and started weaving through cars. Pick up, Rose! he willed. Please, Rose, pick up the phone.
The call went to voicemail. He called it in then, controlled but frantic. Every available car, Armed Offender’s Squad. Didn’t care what they thought of him, one of the city’s top murder investigators oozing panic. Nothing mattered except Rose. He called Jerry, yelled at him.
‘He’s there, Jerry! The bastard’s there. I’m on my way. God, he’s there!’
It was Marion who took the phone, asked how he knew, listened to his garbled explanation. He could hear her talking to Jerry. ‘Okay, Alex, we’re only ten minutes away, what about you?’ He heard Jerry’s siren start up.
‘Closer. I’m closer, I think. I’m in the shopping strip though. There’s traffic.’
‘Calm, Alex …’
‘I’m trying, Marion. I’m trying. He’s there. He’s there with her. Jesus, Marion.’
‘Alex!’ she barked. ‘We’ll get to her. I’ll organize more backup.
