THE TROUBLE WITH PAPER PLANES(40)

Sergeant Latimer shook both our hands, and as usual, I fought not to pull my hand out of his too soon. The bones felt as if they were moments away from being pulverised into powder.

“Afternoon, gents. Warm one today, isn’t it?” he said genially, gesturing to the chairs opposite his desk.

“Hotter than Hades,” Henry said, sitting in one of the chairs as I settled into the other. I was happy to blend into the background, surreptitiously shaking my hand out. This was Henry’s thing, not mine.

“How are you keeping, Henry?” Latimer asked, rounding his desk and making himself comfortable in his chair.

“Good, thanks. You?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“I saw that write-up in the local rag about the assault on one of your officers last week. How’s he doing?”

“He’s back at work. Still sore, but he’ll be right as rain soon enough. Little bastard’s in court next week. I’ve given the prosecutor my two cents worth. If he’s got any brains on him – which is a stretch, I know – he’ll plead guilty and save us all a lot of time.”

Henry nodded sagely. A few beats passed, and Latimer leant forward on his desk, his heavy eyebrows drawn together.

“Nothing new to add this week. The usual feelers are still out and all the websites still have Emily’s information listed,” he said. “I’m sorry – I wish I had better news for you. I hope one of these days, I will.”

He looked me in the eye across the desk. That was one of the things I liked about Latimer. He always looked me in the eye, same as he did with Henry. I remember Dad telling me that anyone willing to look you in the eye was honest, with nothing to hide. Considering they say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, it made sense to me then, and it still did.

Every Tuesday, my hopes went up and every week, they were shot down again. Same old, same old. Five years of Tuesdays and still no answers. If it wasn’t for Henry, I wouldn’t bother coming, but I didn’t feel like I really had a choice in the matter.

“Thanks for the update,” Henry said. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

Latimer stood up, coming around the desk again to see us out. “You’re welcome. We haven’t forgotten, don’t ever think we have. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think about her.”

I wondered if that was true. There was nothing to indicate it wasn’t. I supposed Latimer was human, just like the rest of us. Only, for him, Em was an open case file. An unsolved riddle. A statistic. For those of us that knew her and loved her, she was a lot more than that.

I led the way out of the office and through reception, back to my truck.

“If you can drop me off at the RSA, I’ll get a lift home,” Henry said, buckling his seatbelt.

Another Tuesday ritual – a game of pool at the RSA with his mates. Probably a good thing. It wasn’t good to end the day on a negative note.

“No worries.”

As I reversed out onto the main road and drove up towards the RSA, I could feel myself backsliding into the past. Into despair and helplessness. Just like Henry and his weekly game of pool, I needed a distraction. I needed to feel like I was alive again, not swimming upstream against this torrent of misery that threatened to drown me.

I needed Maia, and the realisation came like a bolt from the blue.





I DROPPED HENRY OFF at the RSA and drove back down the main drag, parking on a side street. I wanted to kiss her, like I had last night. I wanted to ask her where she went after she left me. Where did she spend the nights? Parked up somewhere in her car, obviously. That seemed both unsafe and unnecessary. I wanted to talk to her about that, too.


I also wanted to ask her if she would like to come to another one of my favourite picnic spots for dinner tonight. I wanted to show her the beauty of this place and see it through her eyes. In truth, I just wanted to be with her. She was like a drug. The more I had, the more I wanted. It was an addiction I was more than happy to feed.

I walked along the side street towards the main entrance on the corner, expectation humming through me. It’d been such a long time since I’d felt this way, I’d forgotten how all-consuming it could be. I glanced along the service delivery lane as I passed, and there she was. Sitting outside the café, sunglasses on, head bowed. I knew from her posture that all was not well. She was bent double, her elbows on her knees, fingertips massaging her temples. I hoped like hell it was nothing to do with me, or last night.