The Disappeared: A gripping crime mystery full of twists and turns!. Ali Harper

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      Carly turned away from us and sank her face into her hands. Silence. I watched her run her fingers over her skin like she was washing her face. Finally, she peeled her fingers from her eyes and said: ‘He’s disappeared off the face of the earth.’

      I stared at her. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t think who. She looked like she might cry as she picked the beer back up. ‘I shouldn’t really.’

      ‘Do you good. You’re upset. Not heard from him then?’ said Jo.

      ‘No, not a word,’ she said. ‘Who are you?’

      ‘Friend of a friend,’ said Jo, as I wondered where she was going with this.

      ‘What friend?’

      ‘One of his mates. From college. She’s worried about him. What about you?’

      ‘I work with him, is all,’ she said. ‘“Friend of a friend”? Who?’

      ‘She doesn’t want people to know,’ I said.

      Carly turned to stare at me. ‘I don’t believe you.’

      ‘You don’t have to believe us,’ said Jo.

      ‘Is it Liz?’

      I glanced at Jo and we made a face at each other, like maybe we were nervous that Carly was on the right track.

      ‘You can tell her to get lost. He’s not interested.’

      ‘Because he’s interested in you?’ Jo asked, her voice sceptical.

      A silence followed; well, as silent as you can be when there’s drum and bass throbbing in the background. Don’t be afraid of the silences, someone once told me, they tell you more than the bits in between. Sure enough, she cracked.

      ‘We’ve been seeing each other, a bit. On and off. You know.’

      ‘Fuck, yes,’ said Jo, with heartfelt meaning. She checked her lipstick in the mirror. I love that Jo wears make-up. I’ve never got further than black eyeliner, which I can’t live without. But beyond that, I’ve never understood how women know what goes where. Jo’s an expert. Watching Jo get ready for a night out is to watch an artist at work. She can paint herself into a whole different person. ‘When was it last on?’ she asked Carly.

      Carly took a mouthful of beer then turned to the mirror so that she was side by side with Jo. I stood back, observing their mirror reflections from a distance. Carly tugged at her curls, like she was trying to get them to stay in one place. They disobeyed her immediately, springing back into their own chaotic arrangement. She sighed and gave up. Carly looked about nineteen, cute in an Annie kind of way. If I had to guess, I’d say she was one of those students who probably came from some poxy little village in Cumbria or Northumberland and was thrilled to be living it up in the city. She pulled a stick of mascara out of the back pocket of her jeans.

      ‘That’s the weird thing, you know?’

      I felt like a voyeur – didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I turned and studied the signs on the condom dispenser.

      ‘We’ve been, like, seeing each other nearly four months. Always more off than on. His choice.’ She stuck out her tongue at her own reflection. ‘He’s got … issues. Wouldn’t walk down the street with me when we first got together.’

      ‘Been there,’ said Jo.

      I tried not to let anything show on my face, but inside I marvelled at what women put up with. Carly went out with someone who didn’t want to be seen in public with her? And Jo had too? What the fuck?

      ‘But then, lately,’ Carly continued, ‘we’ve been more on than off. I thought we’d turned a corner. Even talked about going travelling together. Said he wanted to get his head sorted.’

      ‘Heard that too,’ said Jo, cynic to the core. ‘They never mean it.’

      I abandoned the condom dispenser and watched for Carly’s reaction. Her eyes grew brighter in the mirror.

      ‘Two weeks ago, he said he loved me. First time ever.’

      ‘You believed him?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Then what happened?’ asked Jo, puckering up her lips like she might just kiss her own reflection.

      ‘He disappears.’

      ‘Typical,’ said Jo, and I braced myself for a diatribe.

      I watched their reflections, half-fascinated, half-repulsed. So intimate and intense, the kind of scrutiny I could never face. Jo took a deep breath, applied a deep red smudge of colour to her lower lip.

      Carly wiped a finger under the eyelashes of her right eye, creating a soft black line that made her eyes appear bigger. ‘He was supposed to meet me at the Hyde Park cinema, week last Sunday. Never showed.’

      ‘Did he ring?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Has he disappeared before?’ I asked.

      ‘Not for this long.’ Carly’s voice wobbled again. ‘It’s been nearly a week.’

      ‘Tell me about the last time you saw him,’ said Jo.

      I watched her hesitate. ‘It might help us find him,’ I said, trying to draw the words out of her.

      Water drizzled from the tap at the far sink. I tried to turn it off, but it wouldn’t budge. Carly shrugged at her reflection.

      ‘Just over a week ago, last Thursday. We both worked here. Thursday. Normal night. Afterwards he came back to mine. We hung out, watched a film. Then, you know.’ She paused, and I envied her the memory as a small smile flickered across her face. ‘That’s when he told me he loved me.’

      The sadness returned, and she drank more beer. ‘He got up the next morning, we got breakfast at Chichini’s. Said he had to go see someone but asked if I wanted to go to the pictures on Sunday. Said to meet him outside at eight. That’s it.’

      ‘Did he seem worried about anything?’

      ‘You know what he’s like. Always worried about something, but he never lets on. He can’t sit still, always has to be doing something.’

      ‘What does Brownie think?’ asked Jo.

      At the mention of Brownie’s name, a wall sprang up. Carly’s tone, her whole demeanour changed. She straightened up. ‘I don’t give a fuck what Brownie thinks.’

      ‘Bill says he might be in later,’ I said.

      ‘He’s always in later.’

      ‘He might know where Jack is.’

      She shook her head so that her curls bobbed. ‘He’s looking for him. That’s why he comes here every night. He’s following me, thinks СКАЧАТЬ