Fourteen Days(46)

As he strolled around, he aimlessly filled the cart with things he and Nicky didn’t really need—like a giant pack of toilet rolls he was sure that they already had. Just in case. A multipack of crisps, even though she had forbidden him from buying such things because of her ongoing diet. And of course several bags of dried fruit, which neither of them needed nor wanted.

This was exactly why Nicky always did the shopping.

Reaching the register, he placed the shopping on the conveyer belt and watched the lady as she scanned each item.

“Would you like a hand with the packing, sir?” the lady politely offered.

“No thanks,” he replied, shaking his head and smiling. “I’m all right.”

After he had refilled his cart and paid the cashier, he walked away, heading for the exit. Passing the supermarket’s café, he paused for a second to readjust one of his plastic shopping bags, making sure that the eggs were still at the top of the bag. As he started up again, something caught his eye. Attached to the wall on his right was a large cork notice board, filled with various For Sale items, business advertisements, and other public notices. Fixed to the left corner of the board, and overlapped by a few other cards, was an A5 sized poster, with a small photo scanned in the center, and the title, ‘Have you seen me?’ printed in bold letters above it. He leaned in for a closer inspection.

His heart nearly missed a beat.

Written beneath the photo was the name Christina Long.

The bottom half of the poster was buried behind another pinned flyer. He pulled the drawing pin out, letting the flyer fall to the floor, revealing a small paragraph.

Missing since June 2012. Please could you contact Carl Jones with any details of her whereabouts? My number is 0798575433332. Thank you.

Richard’s mouth began to dry up, and a cold sweat formed on his neck and forehead. With a trembling hand, he pulled the poster from the board, causing several other notices and drawing pins to fall to the floor. He ignored them. Eyes wide open, he examined the photo. Despite the fact that she was wearing a tee shirt and a pair of blue jeans, and her brown hair was tied back, there was no doubt in his mind that it was her. No matter how faded the photo was, no matter how small, it was the woman in the white dress.

The woman from his house.

He could barely breathe.

In spite of all that had gone on, a part of him still believed that there had to be a logical explanation for everything. Even seeing her sitting on his bed, no matter how clear she was, still carried a certain percentage of doubt. How could anyone believe such a thing could be possible? A ghost? But now, after seeing her name and photo, he could put all his doubts to rest.

His head was a mixed bag of emotions. On the one hand he could feel the terror resurfacing, even in such a built-up place as the supermarket, and on the other, he could feel a certain level of excitement develop at the prospect of solving the mystery… a mystery that had plagued his life for almost two weeks.

He folded the poster and slipped it into his pocket. Pushing the cart dangerously fast, he continued for the exit. He could barely contain himself as he left the supermarket. Reaching the car, he opened the trunk and dumped the shopping inside, not worried about breaking the twelve-pack of eggs. He slammed the trunk shut, raced around to the driver’s seat, started the engine, and sped out of the parking lot, heading for home.

On the way, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Karen Leigh’s number, swerving his car as he did.

“Karen, it’s Richard,” he said, frantic. “I really need to speak to you. Can we meet?”

“Hi Rich,” Karen replied. “Everything all right? You sound flustered.”

“Everything’s fine. When do you finish work?”

“Well, I suppose I could meet up in about an hour. What’s wrong?”

“I’ll explain when I see you. Got to go now—I’m driving.” Before she could reply, he hung up and dropped the phone onto the passenger seat.

He had an hour to kill before meeting with Karen, so he slowed the car down. He tried to control his breathing, but it was no use; the adrenalin was just too much. He had never felt so freaked out in all his life. Surely now, after all the evidence, Nicky would have to believe him. No one could be that stubborn.

Yes, they could.

She didn’t believe the smoke detector was anything out of the ordinary; she didn’t think that both fridge and freezer doors being open was bizarre. Why would she think anything different now?