pretty radical image change. They sound like two different girls.”
“I’m sure, unless she’s dyed her hair back to its original colour.”
“Well it’ll be a lot easier to pick her out of a crowd if she has.”
Julian told Eleanor where Mia went to school, where she lived. “And if you come across her foster dad, don’t mention it was me who sent you,” he cautioned. He paused, before continuing awkwardly, “Thing is, he’s somehow got it into his head that me and Mia…well, that we’re, you know, screwing each other.”
“Why would he think that?” Eleanor asked in a quieter, frowning tone of voice.
“I don’t know, but he’s way, way off the mark.”
“Honestly?”
“I’ve got a lot of faults, Ellie, like most people do, but I’m not a liar.”
Again a moment’s silence, again a deep intake of breath at the other end of the line. “If I’m going to do this, I’d better get moving. I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve got anything to tell you.”
The hours seemed to stretch as Julian waited to hear from Eleanor. His mum came to see him, but his attention kept drifting to his phone and laptop, and she soon gave up on trying to have a conversation. “Turn those things off and get some rest,” she gently remonstrated.
Julian closed his laptop, but the moment his mum was gone he flipped it open again. He tried phoning Eleanor a couple of times, but to his frustration she didn’t answer. By late afternoon he was wound so tight with waiting that he flinched at a knock on his bedroom door. Wanda poked her head into the room. “Eleanor Hill’s here. She says-”
“Show her in,” Julian interrupted. The instant he saw Eleanor’s face he knew something was up, and the knot in his stomach coiled tighter. “You didn’t find her, did you?”
“No. I waited outside her school, but I didn’t see her. So I went to her house. Her foster dad answered the door. When I asked if Mia was in, he gave me this really suspicious look and asked who I was. I told him I was a friend of Mia’s, and he said she wasn’t in. So I asked if he knew where I could find her, and he said, you tell me, she didn’t come home last night and she wasn’t in school today. And then he asked if I knew you. I said no, but it was obvious he didn’t believe me, and as I was leaving he shouted after me, if you find them, tell them they won’t get far. I think he thinks you’ve run off together or something.”
“Run off,” murmured Julian, his face creasing.
“So are you going to call the police?”
Julian nodded, reaching for his phone and dialling slowly. He knew he had no choice, but in some strange way Eleanor’s words had made him more, not less reluctant to contact the police. When Tom Benson picked up, he said, “I need to speak to you about Mia Bradshaw.”
“That’s funny,” replied the detective, “I was about to phone and say the same thing to you. I need you to come down to the station for a chat.”
Julian guessed at once that Mia’s foster dad had beaten him to phoning the police. He explained about his neck. “Ah, yes, I heard about that,” said the detective. “Well, in that case, I’ll come to you.”
Julian thought about his parents. Almost as much as he wanted to find Mia, he wanted to avoid causing them — especially his mum — anymore upset. “Can’t we do this over the phone?”
“I’m afraid this is too serious for that.”
“When are you coming?”
“Now.”
Julian hung up and said to Eleanor, “You’d better go.”
She looked at him with concern. “Are you sure? I can stay if you want.”
“There’s no need.” Whatever the policeman might have to say to him, Julian didn’t want Eleanor, or, for that matter, anybody else to hear it.
Eleanor heaved a sigh. “God, I really hope nothing bad’s happened to Mia.”
No matter what’s happened to her, it’s too late to hope that, thought Julian, but he said, “I hope so too.”
“First one girl goes missing and turns up dead. Then, just a few days later, her best mate goes missing too.” Eleanor shook her head. “It’s crazy. I mean, like, what’s going on in this town?”
“To know that, you’d have to know what really happened to Joanne Butcher.”
“She OD’d.”
“Yeah, but what made her OD?”
“Nothing made her OD. It was an accident.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Eleanor frowned. “Are you suggesting someone might’ve killed her on purpose?”
“I don’t know what I’m suggesting. I just get the feeling there’s more to it than a simple overdose.” Julian stopped himself from saying anymore. He’d already let out more than he intended to.
“Why?”
Julian shrugged. “I haven’t got any answers. Like I said, it’s just a feeling. I’m probably totally wrong.”
Eleanor raised an eyebrow, obviously not satisfied by his answer, but she didn’t press him. A little hesitantly, she reached to lay her hand on his arm. Her touch seemed even softer than he remembered. It stirred the desire he’d always felt for her. “I know how badly you want to find Mia, but I think you should leave this to the police now. If you’re right, if there’s more to Joanne Butcher’s death than a horrible accident, you could be getting yourself mixed up in something dangerous.” Her fingers flexed lightly against his wrist. “I couldn’t stand it if anything bad happened to you, Julian.”
He tried to smile reassuringly. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. How can it when I’m stuck in bed?”
Eleanor released his wrist. “Will you call me? Soon?”
Julian nodded. When Eleanor was gone, he shouted Wanda. “Where’s Mum?” he asked.
“In the garden.”
“Good. There’s a policeman coming here to talk to me. Will you keep her outside until he’s gone?”
Wanda frowned. “You know I don’t like keeping things from her.”
“Neither do I usually. But she’s already had more than enough worry these last few days, don’t you think?”
Wanda regarded Julian uncertainly a moment, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll try, but no promises.”
When Tom Benson turned up, Wanda showed him through to Julian’s bedroom. He seated himself, pen and notebook in hand. “Why don’t we start with you telling me what you’ve got to tell me?” he said.
“I’m worried about Mia Bradshaw. I think she might be in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Julian gave the policeman the full story about his previous night’s encounter with Mia. “It just seemed so odd,” he said. “It was like she’d got all dressed up to play some sort of part.”
“That doesn’t sound so odd to me. I’ve got a young daughter myself who changes her hair colour nearly as often as she changes her clothes.”
“Well, what about the car?”
“Did you take the registration?”
“No.”
“That’s a shame, but it’s probably not important. After all, it’s not illegal to get dressed up and go out with your friends.” Suddenly, the detective bent forward, his voice dropping low, as if he wanted to make sure there was no chance of anyone who might happen to be listening at the door overhearing. “But it is illegal to engage in sexual intercourse with a minor.”
Something — some almost intimidating intensity — in the detective’s eyes made Julian wonder if he’d made a mistake not having his parents present. “I haven’t touched Mia.”
“That’s not what her foster father says.”
“Well he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Doesn’t he? So why were you seen leaving his house the other afternoon with your hands tied with what looked like a stocking?”
Julian felt his neck getting red. He chewed his lip as his mind raced for a plausible lie and failed to come up with one. The detective nodded, Julian’s silence and expression told him all he needed to know. “He wants to press statutory rape charges, you know.”
