Forward Slash. Mark Edwards

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      ‘You can go now,’ she said. His expression made her realize she’d sounded dismissive. ‘I mean, if you need to.’

      He checked his watch. ‘I suppose I really ought to get going – I’m playing five-a-side this morning … Will you be all right?’

      ‘Yes, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’

      ‘If you hear anything, let me know, OK?’ He wrote down his mobile number for her on the back of a copy of Heat magazine, ripped it off and handed it to her.

      ‘Of course. Can you leave me the spare key?’

      He gave her the key, went to leave, hesitated in the doorway as though he was about to say something else, then changed his mind. He was an all-right guy, Amy thought, despite his annoying little habits. It was a truism that people in London didn’t get to know their neighbours, and Amy’s main interaction with the people next door to her had been listening to passive-aggressive comments about her noisy bike, so Becky was lucky to have a friend living next door.

      So, the police. This would only be the second time in her life she’d called them. In a flash, she was transported back to that moment – the bleak loneliness underpinning the utter panic and disbelief at what had just happened to her at the hands of someone she loved. She hugged herself for comfort and shook the memory away, as she had so many times before.

      She was about to look up the number of the local station on the iMac when it struck her that the police might need to examine the computer, and any more activity she did on it could muddy the trail more than she had already. So she looked it up on her phone, then called them.

      ‘Camberwell Police.’

      She took a deep breath. ‘I want to report a missing person.’

      She waited while she was put through to somebody who identified himself as Police Constable Ian Norris.

      ‘How can I help?’

      She cleared her throat to unstick the words. ‘I want to report my sister as missing.’

      ‘Can I take your name please?’

      ‘Amy Coltman.’

      He asked for her address and phone number, which she gave him.

      ‘And your sister’s name?’

      ‘Becky … Rebecca Coltman,’ she said, and gave him her sister’s full address and date of birth.

      ‘How long has your sister been missing?’

      ‘Well … I haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks, but I got an email from her last night.’

      She heard an intake of breath at the other end of the line. ‘Last night?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And what did the email say?’

      ‘I know this sounds silly, and that it was only last night, but she said she was going away – going abroad – and that I shouldn’t try to find her.’

      His tone changed entirely. ‘Right.’

      Before he could say anything else, Amy said, ‘It’s completely out of character. I can’t believe she would go away like that and ask not to be found.’

      ‘She’s never done anything like this before?’

      ‘No. She went backpacking around Asia for her gap year but it was all pre-arranged.’

      ‘What about work? Have you checked with them?’

      ‘She’s a teacher. The school broke up for the summer holidays last Wednesday.’

      ‘Last Wednesday. Right …’ He paused, and she imagined him tapping details into his computer. She imagined him as the kind of bloke who typed with one finger, seeking out each letter as if for the first time.

      ‘What about friends? Family?’

      ‘Our parents live in Spain. I haven’t checked to see if they’ve heard from her yet. And I haven’t spoken to any of her friends yet.’ Despite what she’d said to Gary, she felt embarrassed now.

      ‘And have you been to her address?’ Norris asked.

      ‘I’m there now.’ Pre-empting his questions, she said, ‘It’s hard to tell if she’s packed up and gone away. But the door wasn’t double-locked. I can’t believe she’d go away without doing that.’

      ‘You’d be amazed, miss. Some people might as well hang a sign on their front door: “Burglars welcome”. What about her passport?’

      ‘Oh. I don’t know where she keeps it. Please, Officer Norris, I need you to take this seriously. There’s something … not right about the email. I’m sure something has happened to her.’

      ‘We take all reports of missing persons seriously, miss, I can assure you. Was there anything in the email that suggested that she planned to harm herself, or that she was being threatened?’

      ‘No. Let me read it to you.’

      Before he could stop her, she read out the email, in a rush.

      Norris didn’t respond immediately. Eventually, he said, ‘Here’s what I suggest, Miss Coltman. Why don’t you speak to your mum and dad, call some of your sister’s friends, and have a look for her passport? It sounds very much like Rebecca has gone away of her own volition. People do things that are out of character all the time, believe me.’

      ‘I know, but—’

      ‘I expect you’ll get another email in a day or two, or a postcard, saying she’s having a lovely time in Vietnam, wish you were here.’

      She could feel him closing down the call, and she tried to hang on. ‘So you’re not going to do anything?’

      ‘I’m sorry, miss, but if she hadn’t sent the email it would be a different story. The fact is, though, that she did. She has clearly told you where she’s going and what she’s doing.’

      ‘But what if someone else wrote the email? Or forced her to write it?’

      ‘There’s no evidence of that, is there?’

      ‘No, but …’

      She hung up, feeling utterly deflated.

      As the call had gone on, her conviction that something had happened to Becky had become increasingly weaker. Norris was probably right. Becky had decided to go away. Her wheelie suitcase wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Maybe what she should be worried about was why Becky would do something so uncharacteristic. What had driven her to it?

      She rubbed her face, feeling totally confused. More than that, though, she was sick with worry. Had Becky had some kind of breakdown?

      She СКАЧАТЬ