Intermittently she checked her watch, letting her anger and resentment flow into the chill air, slowly taking back control. Eventually she stood and walked back across the park.
In the High Street she shaded her eyes and peered through the shop window, squinting through reflections and the books on display. She could not see Adam inside, so she wandered towards Boots and stationed herself opposite the alley, the street lights and failing daylight casting it deep in shadow, the autumn day now turning towards the night ahead. Children were everywhere, all in restless vivid colours, sometimes without chaperone in small groups.
She watched an old woman approach Boots and pull open the door, holding it open and smiling at someone inside. A young girl emerged, smiling back as she stepped onto the street. The girl looked around hopefully, as if she was expecting someone to be there.
Sarah’s breath caught and she took an unconscious step forward. The girl was about ten, pretty, with mousey hair falling to her shoulders. She was wearing a short jacket and jeans, a pink T-shirt and weary Emu boots that drooped back almost to the floor. Sarah blinked; she was a child who stood out in a street of children, small and fragile although her poise carried something more, of the woman she might one day be, as if she already knew some of this life’s burden. Sarah’s heart beat erratically. It was like watching video of herself from a life before.
The girl opened a blue bag and dropped a small white bag inside it. Then she waited, her eyes searching the crowd, realising she was being watched. She looked across the street through the people. Their eyes met and they exchanged uncertain smiles. Then the girl’s attention shifted back to her search, shrugging and casually wandering into the mouth of the alley, out of the way, partly consumed by shadows as she knelt and attended to her boots.
Sarah restrained a powerful urge to go over and say hello.
To what end?
She was on the verge of walking over anyway, but instead she forced herself to look away, checking through the shapes and colours for Adam.
Where was he?
When Sarah looked again the girl had vanished. She took several faltering steps towards the alley.
Where did she go?
But only the deep shadows remained.
SIX
It was easy because of what he knew, easier even than he had imagined. He waited through the day, moving through the small market town, looking for some discord, for a ripple at odds with the usual weave of humanity. He saw only the bustle of busy minds. And then it was time. He stood the sign at the mouth of the alley, facing out to the car park. A big red triangle:
No Entry, Chemical Cleaning
. Beneath the words a symbol depicting liquid corroding a hand. Even kids backed away from that.
It was then about waiting those last minutes in the shadows, leaning against the wall. Five of his long steps from the High Street, seven for anyone else. More for a child. The box was ready and folded. A flick of the wrist and small latches locked it open, a reinforced base, plywood sides. Just big enough for a foetal child if you folded the limbs tight to the body. Outwardly it looked like he had just bought a hi-fi.
Sourcing the right product and size had been difficult; over time it had evolved. Just like the contents of the syringe in his hand. Learning the basics of anaesthetics had been easy, he’d read the books. Getting the drugs and the mix right was not. He used two syringes. The first was powerful and quick acting, the second lay waiting in the boot of the car, less potent but longer lasting.
For Simon it was all about preparation, to the simple end of passing unnoticed in the minds of strangers. He was not inconspicuous if discovered now, but guiltless. He waited patiently for the girl to appear, always working through the scenarios and what might go wrong. But she arrived just as every other time, adjusting those boots. He called her by name. ‘Andrea?’
She turned and took two distracted steps towards him, then another, uncertain.
‘How do you know my name?’
‘Your dad sent me, Andrea. Brian sent me to pick you up.’
Knowing her father’s name placed him within the realm of credibility, just long enough. Confused she walked right to him, puzzling the nice-looking man who knew her father. And then he moved, fast. Clamped his hand over her mouth and pulled her into him. The white exposed skin of her neck spattered with a squirt of liquid as he cleared the needle, then plunged it into her flesh. Her innocent eyes were now wide with a sudden fear, her mouth working beneath his hand, her body squirming against his leg. Her struggle was brief. He lifted her as a father would, the syringe hidden back inside his jacket, and moved further back into the alley. Ten seconds and counting. He flicked open the box with a twist of his wrist, hearing the reassuring sound of the latches locking. He folded her inside, shielded from the street by his broad back. It took fifteen seconds more and then he lifted the box in both hands and calmly walked to the car park, laying the sign flat on top of the box as he stepped from the alley and towards the Rover.
SEVEN
Where did the girl go?
Sarah took a step towards the alley, looking down the street and back to the alley, but the girl had vanished. She walked across the street with shoppers sidestepping to avoid her, squinting into the shadows but seeing only a quiet dark. She stepped across to Boots and peered around advertisements into the store, hands like a visor over her eyes, edging sideways to look down the aisles. No sign of the girl. Her mind clawed for an obvious answer.
She looked back to the street, her eyes darting from one shape to the next. Hundreds of legs danced the shopper’s hoedown but none were clad in those small weary boots. She looked to the alley again.
It was the only place
. She took one and then two steps, venturing between the high bricked walls and their shadowy embrace.
‘Hello, are you all right?’ Her voice faded into the dark. She chastised herself for being scared, took a deep breath and stepped fully into the alley. It was empty. She walked its full length to the car park.
It was open here and brighter from natural light, the car park half full, her Toyota several spaces from the exit. She looked through each plausible space, out to the snaking line of brake lights. Still no sign of the girl. She could feel a numbing cold crawl across the back of her skull.
There were a few people. A thin man in muddy cycling gear was fastening a bike to a roof rack. A tall man, shifting a box between his arms, maybe a microwave, unlocked the boot of his car. Two children chased a Labrador in circles, their mother waiting by a car, hugging dry cleaning. Sarah circled, uncertain, wondering if the girl might be in the car. She was not.
‘Can I help you?’ The mother’s expression was aghast beneath heavy make-up. Sarah’s attempt to see into the car had taken her right next to it.
‘Sorry, I was wondering if you’d seen a girl walk past, maybe ten or eleven, so high?’ She demonstrated the girl’s approximate height with the flat of her hand.
‘She’s not yours then?’
‘Sorry?’
‘The child, not yours?’
‘No, we’re out with friends, their girl has wandered off.’
The woman did not look convinced but called for her husband. Grey hair bobbed up over the roof of the car, shaking his head at the same question. He ushered the children away from a departing Rover patiently idling, the man with the microwave. The cyclist was now leaning against the rear of his car changing shoes.
Sarah thanked them and reluctantly walked back to the alley, checking through all spaces and pathways, the queue of traffic. There had been no time for the girl to completely vanish, surely?
Something was wrong though, some elusive detail she had seen but not yet realised. The numbing cold at the back of her skull was now spreading across her shoulders, moving down her spine. She felt increasingly disorientated, her brain instinctively trying to slow her down, having already unconsciously processed that detail.
She walked back into the alley, pacing out the seconds and the girl’s possible movements.
How long had she looked away for?
She stood on the verge of the High Street. There was still no sign of Adam and no sign of the girl. The detail was still elusive, the tension reaching across her back and pulling the muscles tight. She looked at her watch impatiently, realising she was early more than Adam was late. Then the detail did wriggle free, and with realisation came a starburst of fear for the girl. She threw a quick glance into the street, hoping Adam might magically appear. She forced stiff limbs to action, turning into the alley and trying to make herself run, but her body would not obey her. Her legs felt heavy like concrete. She stumbled and fell against the wall and down onto her knees.
Sarah could have missed the girl. She might have been lost to the busy street or disappeared amid the aisles of Boots. She knew that, but it did not matter to her. The elusive detail was the weight in the box. A microwave would be heavy for her but
not
for the man lifting it into the Rover. He was tall and broad. The box he lifted looked like something heavy was inside, something heavier than a microwave.
Only this mattered to Sarah, now verging on panic at her inability to stand. She could feel her legs but had no control over them, aware of every passing second. She could only think of the girl’s future, she did not need to imagine it. The images exploded in her mind, and with the images came anger, adrenalin surging and fury thumping through her veins. Sarah dug her nails into the palms of her hands, drawing blood as she pushed up through her legs, her eyes fierce. Managing to stand, using the wall and her shoulder, willing her legs to move, step over step. Gritting her teeth she was now walking awkwardly, accelerating to a clumsy jog into the car park and checking each of the cars queuing. The Rover was at the junction. She unlocked her car as she approached, glancing her head painfully off the doorframe as she climbed in, unsteady. She reversed with a quick look over her shoulder. The couple with children watching as she accelerated out of the car park, her Toyota’s suspension protesting loudly as she bumped onto the road just as the Rover turned and disappeared from sight.
It would take precious minutes to queue at the junction, so she sped past the stationary traffic on the wrong side of the road, engine screaming. Straight over both mini roundabouts, ignoring the shocked and angry looks of those queuing. She almost made it, coming to a screeching halt as a car turned into the road. She shouted and pounded on the horn, oblivious to the instant fury of the driver. She edged forwards, urging him backwards with frantic hands, forcing her way to the main road through sheer belligerence. The Rover was gone.
She accelerated to the next roundabout still on the wrong side of the road, pulling in at the last second and braking hard to a chorus of angry horns. She had two choices. Go right through the suburban stretch or left to the motorway. She lurched forward through red lights and a sudden scream of rubber clawing for traction, a red car and an open-mouthed woman to her right. She fluttered an apologetic hand and flattened the accelerator, working through the gears, veering across the road to sweep around a Volvo, along the stretch of dual carriageway towards the motorway. And still no sign of the Rover. She followed the road around, scanning the lines of traffic waiting at the junction, breathing loud with relief. The Rover was two cars from the front. She was sure it was
the
Rover because it had two yellow signs in the rear window,
Baby on board! Child on board!
which she had thought was odd as she watched it leave the car park. She had never seen a car with both before.
Taking advantage of the red lights she pushed her phone into its cradle, brushed the hair back from her face and settled into her seat, trying to calm her wild heart with deep breaths. The lights changed and she followed the Rover onto the westbound motorway. Already the voices in her mind were gabbling incessant warnings and doubts.
EIGHT
Adam arrived opposite Boots just after four thirty and immediately felt uneasy. Sarah was not there and Sarah was never late. He waited, just in case, the sense of unease growing with every minute, cursing that he had left his phone at home on his desk. Eventually he gave up waiting and started searching the likely places Sarah might be, ending in the park. Then out of desperation he returned to the restaurant and finally to the car park at the end of the alley.
It was the last place he checked because Sarah leaving without him was the last thing he imagined her doing. Whimsical tantrums were not her style even if she had been upset, although it was a relief to find that Sarah’s car was not there. It meant she was probably driving it. He just had no clue where. Which led him to the small matter of
why
? There would be a reason. He needed his phone, so he jogged to the square and into a cab.
Sarah’s car was not at their apartment either, although he had hoped it would be. He wearily climbed the steps to their apartment and retrieved his phone from the study, then went to the living room. Three missed calls. He unlocked the balcony door and stepped out onto the balcony, the garden spotlights now pushing back the half-light of evening.
He dialled his voicemail and listened to the messages. Sarah’s voice was competing against the drone of her car, each word weighing him down. There were three messages that were fragments of a whole. Her first call had been cut off, on the second she hung up, lost for words. The third gave most of the detail. Sarah was following a car. A car she thought had a box in the boot with a child stuffed inside. Which was about one on the list below his worst-case scenario.
Returning to the living room he listened three more times, writing the details onto a notepad, running his hands through his hair. Sarah had given him the car’s model, colour and all but the last two digits of the number plate, lost to noise. Dialling Sarah’s mobile he got an out of service tone. He redialled over and over until it rang, finally hearing her voice for real when she picked up. The noise in her car sounded like she was next to a waterfall.