The Other People(43)

“Don’t suppose you care to tell me how you found it?”

“No.”

“Fine.” She put the notebook back in her pocket and started to do the same with the photos.

“Wait.”

“What?”

He hesitated. “The photos. They’re all I’ve got. The only proof.”

“And you think I’m the sort of police officer who would misplace evidence?”

“No, but—”

The “but” hung in the air, reverberating with accusation.

“You have to trust someone, at some point.”

He debated with himself then nodded. “Fine.”

She tucked the photographs into her pocket.

“Thank you. Now, if I do this for you, can you do something for me?”

“What?”

“Think about what I said before. Siestas. Sipping margaritas at sundown.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Even me.”

“Especially you.”





A police car was parked outside her mum’s house.

Katie pulled up behind it, yanked on the handbrake and climbed out. Her heart felt like it was fighting her lungs for space. She couldn’t help it. The sight of a police car, outside their house. Too many memories.

However difficult her mum was, however awkward their relationship, she still worried about her, still cared for her. It isn’t until you lost a parent that you understood the magnitude of their presence in your life. So many times, after Dad, she would pick up the phone to call him and pause, mid-dial, remembering that he would no longer greet her from the other end with a cheery “Hello, sweetheart.” It wasn’t a temporary absence. He was gone. Forever. The realization sideswiped her again and again.

This is not the same, she tried to tell herself as she walked up the driveway. Not the same. Still, the feeling of unease that had started back in the café had increased tenfold. She rang the bell. A few seconds later it swung open.

Her mum stood in front of her. She looked thin, haggard and older than ever. She eyed Katie suspiciously.

“Why are you here? Has she called you? Have you seen her?”

“Mum. Calm down. I was worried about you, so I left work and drove straight over.”

Her mum glared at her and then turned abruptly. “You’d better come in,” she said, and walked back down the hallway.

Trying to fight the irritation nipping at her already frayed edges, Kate followed her into the small, beige kitchen. A young police officer with a ruddy face and sandy-colored hair sat awkwardly at the table, a mug of tea in front of him. A bottle of red and a full glass sat in front of the other chair.

Just something to steady my nerves, her mum had probably told him. Katie had heard that excuse before. She had heard all of them.

“This is Katie, one of my other daughters,” her mum said as she slumped into the chair and took a sip of wine. The police officer stood and offered a hand.

“PC Manford.”

Katie shook it. “Could you tell me what’s going on?”

“That’s what we’re just trying to get to the bottom of.”

Katie felt like saying the only thing her mum was trying to get to the bottom of was that bloody bottle of wine, but she bit her tongue.

“My mum called you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Wilson wants to report a missing person.”

Katie frowned. “Who’s missing?”

“Your sister, Francesca—”

“My sister moved away years ago.”

“She was here,” her mum said. “Today.”

Katie stared at her. “You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Just turned up, out of the blue, then took off again.”

Katie tried to digest this. Fran. Back. After all this time.

“You’re positive it was Fran?”

“I know my own daughter.”

“But now she’s gone?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I still don’t think you can report her missing if she left of her own volition…”

“I don’t want to report her missing. I couldn’t care less if she never comes back. She was always trouble. You don’t remember, you were too young—”

“Mum,” Katie broke in. “If you don’t want to report Fran missing, then why did you call the police?”

“Because of the little girl.”

“What little girl?”

“Alice. She just left her here.”

“Who’s Alice?”

“Fran’s daughter. My eldest granddaughter.”

Granddaughter? Katie opened her mouth, closed it again. She was about to say that Fran didn’t have a daughter, but what did she know? She hadn’t seen her sister in almost a decade. She could have a whole brood. Nephews and nieces Katie had never met.

“Well, where’s the little girl now?”

“Missing. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. She ran away. She’s out there somewhere all alone—” Her mum’s face softened and, for a fleeting moment, Katie could almost see the parent she used to be.