Читать книгу Seven Days - Alex Lake - Страница 27

Martin stood in his daughter’s room. It was a curious mixture of childlike and grown-up; on her desk were some earrings and a CD by an artist he had never heard of and a book of short stories by Kate Chopin, yet by her pillow there was the blue bear – Rudi – he had bought her when she was six and he and Sandra were trying to stop her climbing into their bed every night.

He’ll keep you safe, he said. You can cuddle Rudi.

It had worked, after a while. When she came into their room he let her settle then carried her back to her bed. If she stirred, he put Rudi in her arms and she went back to sleep.

Wynne had looked around the room, searching for anything that might give a clue to where she was. She didn’t find anything – Martin wasn’t sure what she would have found: drugs, maybe, or someone’s name or address – but whatever she had been looking for, she had left empty-handed. Likewise Maggie’s emails. Sandra knew her password and Martin had agreed to let Wynne look at her account. There was nothing that hinted at where she might be.

He sat on the edge of her bed. Wynne had talked about a press conference, an appeal on television to anyone who might have information important to the investigation.

You’d be surprised what they throw up, she said. People’s memories get jogged about something they saw, they call it in, it turns out to be valuable.

It hadn’t reassured him. In fact, it had had the opposite effect.

It brought home that this was not simply a teenage girl doing something irresponsible.

This was an investigation, a news story. It was not going away. He picked up Rudi and rubbed the soft, threadbare patch over his right eye. He held him to his face and the smell of his daughter enveloped him.

For the first time he wondered whether he would ever smell that smell again, and he started to cry.