Half the World Away - [17]
Missing Overseas had a contact form to fill in and a phone number to use in an emergency. Is this an emergency? I wondered. Would I be sitting here with the kids asleep in bed, methodically gathering names and numbers, if it was a real emergency? ‘Should we fill this in?’ I asked Nick. We decided to wait. The list of how they could help was both reassuring but also unnerving because each bullet point – Handling All Media; Providing 24-hour Hotlines – forced me to think that further down the line we might need them to do that. And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want Lori to be one of those pictures.
Just a mix-up, I keep praying, false alarm, crossed wires.
Now Tom is here, striding up the path, unshaven and rumpled. ‘Sorry,’ he says, as he comes in, ‘traffic.’
There is always traffic. Any normal person would’ve allowed for that.
‘She’ll be down again in a minute,’ I say.
‘Shit!’ He turns to go. ‘Laptop.’
‘For God’s sake!’ If he has to drive across town and back…
‘In the car.’
When DI Dooley returns she takes the list I’ve made and works through it. Lori’s passport and national insurance numbers, bank account details. The names and numbers of all the friends I can find. Also an outline of the emails, texts, Skype calls we made in date order.
She holds the pen horizontal below each item as she reads it, occasionally checking things with us.
‘Was this an email to all three of you?’
‘She has just one account?’
‘This is the phone number she’s using now?’
‘Yes, she got that one in China. It’s cheaper to use a local number,’ Tom says.
‘And you have copies of the emails?’
‘Yes.’ I’ve printed out Lori’s emails to us and copied our texts from the last few months.
‘Screenshots,’ Tom says, holding up a pen drive.
‘You have her blog address?’ I check with the detective.
‘Yes. So as of now the last communication was definitely the second of April?’
‘That’s right,’ I say.
‘So this is totally out of character?’
‘Not exactly,’ I say, as Tom says, ‘Yes.’
He glares at me.
I look at DI Dooley. ‘It’s just that Lori doesn’t always pick up her messages or maybe she sees them but it can be a few days before she replies. There was a time too…’ I feel traitorous raising it but it’s been on my mind. I’ve been turning it over and over, like a set of worry beads, thinking, If she did that then, well, maybe this is something similar. ‘… when she was at uni, in Glasgow, we didn’t hear from her for a couple of weeks. She didn’t respond to an email and then we found out that she’d been on some party trip to Skye, a last-minute invite. And forgot her phone charger. And now… well, we often don’t hear anything for a couple of weeks and she can be slow to reply to things – but for no one to have heard, for her to be ignoring us all, something’s not right. I spoke to the Foreign Office this morning,’ I say. ‘I gave them the details and told them we had seen you.’
She nods. ‘Who’s your contact there?’
‘Jeremy Chadwick.’
Tom moves the hair off his face. ‘Can’t you get the Chinese police to look for her – Interpol or whatever?’
‘If necessary, once we’ve done what we can at this end.’
‘Which is what exactly?’ he says.
‘You’re worried,’ she says, ‘anxious to find Lorelei. I understand that. There are procedures in place that have been built on the experience of previous missing-person investigations. It’s the most effective way of working. I do realize how difficult it must be, the sense of being kept waiting, but I need you to give me a couple of days while I carry out my own enquiries.’
‘OK,’ Tom says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. He sits back in the chair.
‘Have there been any family arguments between any of you and Lori?’ DI Dooley says.
‘No,’ I say.
‘Any hint of trouble with her friends or colleagues?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Do you have the name and address of her current employers?’
‘Just the name,’ Tom says. ‘Five Star English.’
‘Thank you.’ She scans what she’s written. Then picks up our printouts and the pen drive. ‘And thank you for these.’
‘What can we do?’ I say. ‘There must be something.’
‘Carry on as you are, make sure as many people know as possible. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. And if you do find out anything else or hear from anyone, please let me know. You have my direct number.’
Outside it’s bright and I have to squint. I left my sunglasses at home, forgotten in the morning’s rush.
‘We were looking at the Missing Overseas website last night,’ I say. ‘It’s useful.’
Tom nods, rubs at the bristles on his cheek. ‘You think she knows what she’s doing?’ He tips his head back towards the building.
‘More than we do,’ I say.
‘Do you want to get a coffee?’
‘I’ve got work,’ I say.
An almost imperceptible shake of his head, the release of breath in his nose. I am a disappointment. Dull, hidebound.
