‘What did the advert say? “Psychopath needed to stalk young woman. Must be good at lurking’’？’ I snapped, angry at no one in particular.
‘Of course not,’ said Ritter tightly. ‘Mr Taylor claims the advert was very vague and mentioned the job was a paid bird-watching project.’
We gave this information the silence it deserved. Then I said, ‘Someone has a twisted sense of humour.’
‘Where’s David now?’ asked Dad.
‘We let him go this afternoon,’ answered Christopher.
Dad was angry. ‘Let him go?’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Christopher. ‘As soon as new evidence comes to light, we’ll bring him back in.’
‘If needed,’ corrected Ritter.
As I saw them out, Christopher looked over his shoulder and I could see in his face he was sorry he hadn’t brought you home.
After the news, Mum was restless; she walked around the coffee table so many times, I thought she might wear away the floor. The ploughman’s lunch was left uneaten in the kitchen. I thought about serving it, but no one seemed in the mood to eat anything, so I sat down and tried to appear calm even though I was replaying the conversation with Christopher and Ritter on a loop. My fingers burned to call Christopher to see if he knew more than he’d let on.
Dad rang Jack and asked him to come over. He arrived half an hour later, apologising for Kathryn’s absence. She had another of her migraines. I remember when Kathryn was strong and outspoken and always laughing. After Jeffrey’s death, she faded, everything about her is less. Like we’re viewing her through tracing paper. I worry this will happen to Mum and Dad if we don’t find you, El. Or if we find you dead.
Jack couldn’t offer much more information. He sat on the sofa between our parents, which left me alone on the loveseat opposite. He answered all their questions, apologised profusely for not telling us the police had called him to the station, but he’d been instructed to keep this information to himself and, not wanting to jeopardise the investigation, he did as they’d commanded.
Then he added, ‘I’ve been asked to do an appeal. Give an interview. I don’t want to step on your toes and I’d rather stay out of the media, but they told me Elodie needs all the exposure she can get.’ He looked to Mum and Dad for guidance even though I was sure he’d already agreed to do it.
Men like Jack can’t resist the limelight. He craves affection, perhaps each woman who worships at his feet makes him feel a tiny bit better than his father ever did, so Jack was never going to pass up an opportunity to play the doting, handsome friend of the beautiful stolen woman when it’s the perfect recipe for the nation to fall in love with him. I can imagine your face reading this, your narrowed gaze burning holes into the paper. But seriously, El, I’ve wondered if part of your appeal to Jack is that you haven’t thrown yourself at him like everyone else. Not since you were teenagers. He’s such a control freak, I’m sure it drives him mad.
Mad enough to hurt you?
Mad enough to pay someone to follow and snatch you?
Of course, Mum and Dad encouraged Jack to do the appeal. They hugged and back-patted and thanked him for all he’d done.
Later, while Mum was lying down in the guest room, I loaded the dishwasher with all the mugs – we’d drunk many, many cups of tea – when I heard Dad’s sharp voice in the hallway. ‘Why didn’t she tell us?’
There was a pause. I crept out of the kitchen and through the dining room. I could hear the low, reassuring murmur of Jack’s reply.
Then Dad, louder, angrier. ‘How dare he?’
I stepped into the hallway. Dad only briefly glanced my way before yanking open the front door and leaving without saying goodbye. Without Mum. I stumbled outside and called after him, watching in panicked bewilderment as he stormed off down the street.
I felt someone behind me and turned. ‘What did you say to him, Jack?’
He stared impassively. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s upset.’
He shrugged. ‘His daughter’s gone. He’s bound to be upset.’
‘What did you say to him?’
He moved closer, invading my space. He paused, letting me take in the slow, condescending spread of his lips. ‘Tell you what, I’ll go find Martin, you pop back inside and stick the kettle on.’
I stood, boiling over, as Jack turned and loped after Dad.
I have never trusted Jack. He has two faces and I think I am the only person he’s taken off the mask for. Our family is coming undone at the seams and even though it’s you who is gone, it’s Jack with the scissors that will snip, snip, snip at the threads until everything falls apart.