Don't Come Looking by AJ Campbell (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📗

at the faint moonlight outlining the window shutters, thinking of Marc. His disappearance has unnerved me. I think back to when I last saw him before our clash at the Tube station today. Two weeks ago, he and Sasha came over for an impromptu barbecue, minus the kids. They were off doing their own thing. As teenagers do, Marc rightly pointed out when Sasha had a moan. Thinking back, Marc was quiet to start with that day, but after a couple of beers he livened up when Joe and Isabella begged him to play hide and seek. They are as fond of him as we are.

Where have you gone, Marc?

I spend the night agitated, hot and harassed by images of Marc’s face. Around three, I pick up a book. I’ve got a great Val McDermid on the go, but I can’t concentrate. Jim wakes and needs more pain medication, apologising for leaving his pills in the kitchen. I throw on my dressing gown and traipse out of the bedroom to fetch him some. After swallowing a couple of tablets, he lays back down. ‘What’s bothering you?’ he asks.

‘I can’t stop thinking about Sasha.’ I cuddle up to him and share all the possible scenarios of Marc’s disappearance that I have conjured up in my mind.

He strokes my hair, concern crinkling his brow. ‘I’m worried about you.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘But you won’t be if you find yourself out of a job. As far as this Marc situation is concerned, I really think you should stay out of it.’

Four

DAY 2

I’m up at six and in the shower.

‘No run this morning?’ Jim asks as I deliver his morning cup of tea. He grabs my arm and pulls me towards him for a kiss.

‘I didn’t sleep well.’ This is an understatement. After telling me to keep out of Marc and Sasha’s affairs, only minutes passed before I was counting his slow rhythmic breaths. For me, it wasn’t until the birds started their early morning concert that I finally nodded off.

As soon as Mel arrives, and I make it to the car, I call Sasha. She answers on the first ring, sounding as if she didn’t sleep much more than me. I start the engine and pull out of the drive. ‘He’s not back yet,’ she says, which doesn’t surprise me. Not that Marc hasn’t returned, but that she’s still hoping he might. It often takes a few days for the reality of someone’s fate to fully register. I’ve witnessed it several times in differing situations. The shock blocks rational thinking with denial until the anger sets in. Next, she’ll tread the bargaining and depression stages before reaching the moment when she can fully accept what’s happening in her crumbling world. She might even skip a step, or go backwards, depending on how complex the investigation and the progression it takes. Rarely, but it does happen, some never truly accept.

‘I went down to the police station.’ Her voice breaks. ‘They repeated what you told me.’

‘You didn’t mention that I’d already told you, did you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘How are the kids?’

‘Fine. I told them he got a last-minute job offer yesterday. In Scotland, revamping some computer systems for lots of money we couldn’t refuse. I said he’d be gone for a couple of weeks.’

I inwardly sigh. Heavily. Oh, Sasha. What’s going to happen when they realise he doesn’t phone? When Harry doesn’t receive a birthday hug from his dad on Saturday? ‘I have some visits to make today, out and about. I’ll call in on you at some point.’

‘I’m busy all morning,’ says Sasha. ‘Free after two.’

‘I’ll try this afternoon. All depends on how my day pans out.’

I stop in Clapham to pick up Rob. He rents a basement flat near to the common with two other officers: Phil, who works for the British Transport Police, and Kit, from the Territorial Support Group. I don’t go in. The undefinable waft of untidy bachelors will be too much for me this morning. After ten minutes and two texts asking, Where the hell are you? Rob comes running out with wet hair and his tie swinging in his hand.

I wind down the window to the acrid scent of summer floating in the London fumes. ‘Any time today.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Next time you can take a cab.’

‘Morning to you, too.’

‘We’re going to be late. I’m always late when you’re involved.’

‘You love me, though, don’t you? Go on, say it.’ He leans his ear towards me. ‘Let me hear it.’

Shoving him away, I stick up two fingers and carry on driving. Although I’d never admit it to anyone, I’m fond of Rob. We’ve worked together for three years now. At thirty-three, he’s a couple of years older than me but still a DC which irritates the hell out of him in a funny kind of way – especially since Arthur told us he was considering both of us for promotion. ‘I thought I’d at least get a year of being a higher grade than you. That would’ve been so much fun,’ Rob said, a fake grin concealing his amusement.

Pulling down the sun visor, he looks in the mirror and swings his head from side to side, combing his hands through his hair. Once done, he stares at himself for a moment.

‘Don’t break my mirror,’ I say.

He laughs. ‘Who had a bowl of sarcasm for breakfast?’

I laugh, as I mostly do when I’m around him.

‘What does Arthur want to speak to us about?’ he asks.

I shrug, and we discuss our latest case until we get to our desks. Arthur beckons us over, tapping his watch.

‘Sorry, sir, my fault. Car has broken down, and I had to call Eva to come and pick me up,’ Rob says.

‘Give the bullshit a rest,’ Arthur replies, hitching up his trousers. He slaps a file on the table. ‘You’re going to make me late now.’ He tuts in that way we’re used to. As if to say, I’m too old for this. He opens the file and launches into detail about