Seven Days(43)

‘Don’t say that,’ Sandra said. ‘If she’s alive – wherever she is – that’s better than the alternative. Because if she is alive, she’ll come back to us. One way or another, she’ll find a way to come home.’

Martin caught her gaze. ‘I hope so,’ he said. ‘I hope so.’





3


James looked at the equation. Mr Best – he insisted on being called that – had finished explaining how to do it, and for a moment he’d understood, but it was already gone. He shook his head.

‘I don’t really get it,’ he said.

Best was sitting on the other side of the dining room table.

‘Let’s forget that specific example,’ he said. ‘And talk about what quadratic equations are used for.’

‘OK,’ James said.

‘Let’s say you kick a football. It goes up and forward and then starts to come down until it’s still. A quadratic equation can tell you the height of that ball at any time.’

‘I don’t need it to,’ James said. ‘I can see the ball.’

‘What about a missile? You can’t see a missile.’

‘I don’t want to fire a missile.’

Best smiled. ‘Very admirable, but if you did, a quadratic equation would be very useful. It’s like probability. Which do you think is more likely to come up in the lottery? Six sequential numbers – like four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, or six unconnected numbers?’

‘Unconnected.’

‘No,’ Best said. ‘It’s exactly the same.’

‘So I should pick sequential numbers if I do the lottery?’

‘Pick any numbers you like.’

‘What would you do, if you won the lottery?’ James said. He was desperate to change the subject.

Best looked up at the ceiling. ‘Buy a canal boat,’ he said. ‘The canal network covers the entire country and you can move about it at your leisure. Undetected.’ He smiled, again. ‘Anyway, back to quadratic equations.’

James rubbed his eyes. He didn’t get it, and he didn’t care. He was never going to use it in real life. Best’s example was the proof of that: why did he want to fire missiles, or figure out how high a football had gone? All he needed was to get through his Maths GCSE and then forget this bullshit forever.

And then there was Louise. He thought about her all the time. When he tried to concentrate, his mind slipped to thinking about her. She went to a different school, so he only saw her on evenings and weekends, but all day long he imagined she was at his school, hovering in the background and watching him tell jokes and play football and hang out with his friends. In lessons he wrote her long letters about how much he liked her – he loved her, but he hadn’t told her yet – and describing in great detail all the many qualities she had: kindness, beauty, wisdom.

He felt a bit guilty, truth be told, because before he met her it had been Maggie he imagined watching over him. Now he imagined introducing Louise to Maggie, and Maggie telling him she was amazing and the right girl for him.

At times like that she felt so close to him, even though he knew he’d never see her again, never be anywhere near her.

And in a week it would be a year since she’d gone. He hadn’t mentioned it to his parents. They didn’t seem to have noticed and he didn’t want to upset them.

He pushed his chair back. ‘Could I use the toilet?’

Best nodded. ‘You know where it is? In the hall.’

James got up and left the dining room. He closed the bathroom door behind him and unzipped his jeans. When he had finished, he washed his hands and went back into the hall.

The kitchen door was ajar. He’d never been in. Other than the bathroom and the dining room, he’d never been in any other parts of Best’s house.

He glanced inside.

There was a box to the right of the door. It was unopened, but he recognized the brand name.

Pampers.

Best had a box of Pampers? Weren’t they nappies? What did he want nappies for? Maybe he had a new grandkid and was helping out his son or daughter. There were no photos of any kids in the house, though, and he’d never mentioned any.

The dining room door opened. Best stood there.

‘Everything OK?’ he said.

‘Yeah.’

Best looked at the open door. He chuckled.

‘Ah. I see. You’re wondering why I have nappies. Maybe I have a baby squirrelled away in a hidden basement under my garage, that kind of thing?’

‘No,’ James said. ‘Of course not—’

‘It’s fine. No baby, I’m afraid. It’s a box of old books. They happen to be in a Pampers box.’ He closed the kitchen door. ‘Anyway. Back to quadratic equations …’





4


It had been a while since she had driven past Best’s house. There had been no reason to.

Until today. Until the letter had come.

It had arrived at the police station that morning, addressed to her. Three sentences, typed on a piece of A4 paper.

DEAR DETECTIVE INSPECTOR WYNNE:

IT’LL BE A YEAR SOON.

She had known immediately what it was referring to.

Maggie Cooper. It had to be. She’d been taken nearly a year earlier.