Page 163 of Beautiful Scars

“Paddy. You go to Asylum. That’s the only place she’d know where to find me.”

“Alright, mate.”

I’m still pacing when Sarah’s hopeful face catches my eye. “You stay here with Cole, in case she comes home. Or someone phones.”

“Where are you going?”

I swallow. Good question indeed. There’s only one person, other than Meisie, who might know anything about Alex.

I glance down at Cole, and then back up to Sarah. “You phone me.”

The look that passes between us says she understands the double meaning in my order. Phone me if you hear anything, and phone me if he turns on you.

***

Helen didn’t want to take my calls.

Or maybe she was sleeping, like a normal person.

It’s after eight in the morning by the time I’ve gotten a hold of her and forced her to see me.

She was having none of it, until I mentioned Alex.

This time she doesn’t send a car for me in the dead of night. What would be the point? Everyone knows we’re family now.

We’ve arranged to meet at her office in an hour, so I spend the whole time sitting in a nearby McDonald’s car park with a coffee. I look a mess. I feel a mess, too. There’s a weight at the bottom of my stomach and nothing I do or think about will shift it.

And her nonchalant attitude only made it worse.

I’m twenty minutes early by the time I arrive. The Edinburgh parliament building is a massive monstrosity in the center of the city with barely any place to park, but since it’s a Sunday there are no traffic wardens around.

There are, however, two policemen guarding the front entrance.

I pull the gun that hasn’t left my person out of my waistband and shove it in the glove compartment. Nobody has guns in Scotland. Not unless you’re a farmer. And I don’t exactly look like a farmer.

The whole place is deserted and there’s a chill in the air as I walk between the huge ponds in front of the building.

I expect the two officers to stop me, but they barely look my way.

Inside, I empty my pockets and go through the body scanner before telling one of the two receptionists my business.

From there, I’m directed to a waiting area.

A waiting area.

Her daughter—mywife—is missing, and she has me sitting in a waiting area.

She has the audacity to keep me waiting.

What are we actually waiting for, Helen? The full moon? The second fucking coming?

I’m glad I left the gun in the glove box. Helen should be too, whenever she finally decides to grace me with her presence.

I’ve been seen quicker by the fucking dentist.

“Mr. Hendry.”

I’m staring at a watercolor painting of splodges when I hear her behind me. Turning around, there is nothing I can do to hide the glare on my face.