The Running Girls(21)

Sandra and Tilly went on making lunch. Despite the difference in appearances, Laurie thought again how easy it was to picture Sandra and the girl as mother and daughter. They had a comfortable way with each other, their exchanges—relaxed and informal, despite the huge stress they were both under—reminding her of Jane Washington and her daughter the day before. Tilly lived with her father, and Laurie wondered if the Harringtons’ was an escape for her, a place of relative luxury she could slip away to when needed.

Turning her back to the biting wind—the temperature had dropped a few degrees from that morning—she answered the cell phone. “Tell me you have something good.”

“Not so far,” said Remi. “Getting access was easy enough, but no sign of Grace in the apartment.”

“And the other woman?”

Sometime after Sandra’s outburst in the morning, Laurie had taken her aside to find out if there was anything she should know. Sandra told her that earlier in the year, Glen had been having an affair and had been using the apartment for his infidelity. Glen had assured her it was all over, but she had her doubts.

“No sign that anyone other than Mr. Harrington spends time here. No second toothbrush. I’ll do a bit more searching, see if I can turn up some more subtle evidence.”

Finding Grace at the apartment had always been a long shot, but with the day fading away, Laurie could have done with some good news. “Neighbors, doorman?”

“Blanks from both. The porter recognized the photograph of Glen Harrington, but he only works weekends so didn’t know him by name. I’ve distributed photographs of Grace, and I’m about to trawl through the apartment building’s video footage to see if there are any signs of her, or anything else relevant.”

“OK, keep me posted,” said Laurie, hanging up.

Wanting to give the Harrington household a break, she took a short walk around the block until she was by the water at Offatts Bayou, watching the boats and the traffic heading over the causeway. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Remi was probably wasting his time in Houston. It was feasible that Grace had access to a passkey or had somehow managed to get herself in the building, but it felt increasingly unlikely. What was more likely was Remi catching a sight of Glen Harrington with his mistress in the video feeds from the last few days, and this would in part explain the man’s reluctance to hand over the keys earlier that morning.

The discord between Sandra and Glen seemed to be growing, and from what Sandra had told her, this wasn’t entirely due to Grace going missing. As Laurie rounded the corner back to the house, it was impossible not to draw a parallel between the Harringtons’ relationship and her own. While David meeting with Rebecca Whitehead could easily prove to be innocuous, both relationships were being defined by what had happened, or was happening, to a daughter.

Laurie reached for her stomach. It was a rare moment, but so focused had she been on finding Grace Harrington that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought about Milly. She guessed some would say it was healthy, but for Laurie it brought a fresh surge of guilt.

As she approached the house, she was taken by the absurd impulse to break into a run. She wanted away from the place, from the thoughts troubling her head. Running was something she could rely on, and she sensed the restlessness deep within her muscles. She wondered if Grace had felt that way when she’d taken the run the other night; if she’d been pushing herself to the limits, so that simple fatigue would help her forget herself.

And as Tilly opened the front door for her, Laurie’s thoughts returned to Annie Randall, the twisted figure of her corpse playing in her mind as if she’d seen it for real that morning, and not on a computer screen. What strength of bitterness and rage had caused Frank Randall to take her life, and disfigure her in such an inhumane way?



The same questions were still bothering Laurie later that evening as she sat behind her desk, double-checking the interviews and notes from that day. Filmore had told her to go home an hour ago, but with David being away for the next three weeks, the thought of a second night alone in the apartment, with no real insight into the missing girl, was not much of a motivation to get her moving.

The team had ordered takeout a couple of hours ago—her share of it a burrito, smothered in congealed cheese—and she regretted joining in. She was bloated and lethargic, and that, coupled with the frustration of the Grace Harrington case, made her restless, her calf and thigh muscles tight and in need of a stretch.

She checked in with Remi before leaving. He was staying the night in Houston, keen to chat with Glen Harrington’s work colleagues in the morning, when Filmore and Laurie were due to hold a press conference. With every hour passing, the chances of finding Grace dwindled. If twenty-four hours missing was crucial, forty-eight hours was a milestone no one wanted to reach.

Deciding to run home, she changed in the lockers and ran a couple of miles to warm her muscles before stretching. As the ground disappeared beneath her feet, Laurie struggled to rid herself of the bloated feeling in her stomach. She felt full of air, despite the tightness of her stomach muscles, Milly’s absence more pronounced than ever. She hadn’t spoken to David since his departure to the refinery, and that added to her despondency. She had the absurd notion of running toward Rebecca Whitehead’s house, but had the sense to resist it and headed for home instead.

She was still breathless as she opened the front door, but this time her exhaustion was doing little to dispel her thoughts. Changing into her nightwear, she poured some water from the fridge, and found herself staring at the wedding photos on the mantelpiece in the living room. Every time she saw an image of David recently, it was like seeing a different person. In this instance, he was nothing like either the boy she’d seen in the photographs at Frank Randall’s place or the man she’d first met during the Annie Randall investigation. Here he was smiling and carefree, as if getting married was easing all the concerns of his past.