‘Keep me posted,’ she says, tension now thick in her voice.
‘No, she’s not here,’ says Jo’s father, Donald, when I call. ‘Probably just got caught up at work. You know what she’s like.’
‘Yeah. Thanks. I’ll try again.’
Joel tugs at my trousers. ‘Mummy?’
‘She’s on her way, sweetheart.’
I glance at the sitter, whose name I still don’t remember. ‘Would you mind?’ I ask, nodding toward Joel.
‘Sure,’ she replies, taking his hand.
‘Snack,’ Joel tells her, leading her to the fridge. I smile. He’s going to be a bolshie little sod when he grows up.
Jo’s phone still goes to voicemail. I leave another message, and then another. In total, I make three calls and send three WhatsApp messages, all of which are left unread. I cancel the reservation, pay the sitter and order a taxi for her.
Then my phone rings. No caller ID. I answer instantly. ‘Jo?’
‘It’s me, Gil. Is she still not home?’
‘No,’ I say, my voice flat.
‘I’ve been trying her phone too, but I just get her voicemail. Have you called the hospitals? In case she’s had an accident?’
My stomach drops. ‘No. I hadn’t thought…’
‘I’ll do it,’ Gil says, then hangs up.
I pace. Minutes crawl by.
She calls back. ‘No one matching her description has been admitted anywhere. Danny, I think you should call the police.’ There’s a tremor in her voice. ‘I’m coming over.’
Chapter Five
Josie
‘Idon’t remember you saying you were out tonight,’ says Geoff, looking put out.
I sigh. ‘I told you the Chief Super was retiring about a month ago, and last week I told you about the retirement do,’ I remind him.But, of course, you weren’t bloody listening, as usual.
I stick two pizzas in the oven, open the fridge and remove a bowl of pre-made salad. ‘All yours,’ I say to Geoff. ‘You just have to feed the boys when the pizzas are done.’
‘Easy enough, I suppose,’ he says sulkily. ‘It’s just that it’s the final of the darts tonight at the pub and it’s not like we couldn’t have got a sitter…’
I roll my eyes. I should have counted to ten, but sadly I only got to four. ‘For Christ’s sake, Geoff, when do I ever go out? It’s not like you’re playing in the darts team. The only nights I’m ever out are when I’m bloody working.’
‘Bad timing, I guess,’ he says.
I decide to change the subject. ‘Don’t let them play on their iPads all evening.’
‘Got it,’ he says. But I know he will.
‘Right,’ I say, checking my reflection in the hall mirror. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing myself with make-up on. It’s not the done thing in my job to look like a sex bomb. Although I’m well past the sex bomb stage these days; I’m closer to the premenopausal, stretch-marks-and-grey-hair stage. I ought to get said hair coloured, but at a hundred quid a time, I can’t see Geoff agreeing to that.
I smile at my two lads, who are stuffing their faces with garlic bread. ‘Well, I’m not kissing you two goodbye.’ I blow a kiss and leave the house. My partner in crime, Dario, has offered to pick me up and is waiting outside.
Dario González has been sober for eight years, so he’s the perfect taxi driver. He is also the most handsome man I’ve ever worked with. His slightly dark skin and wide brown eyes are appealing, especially when he smiles; then, they twinkle like stars. His black curly hair, although unruly, adds to his appeal. The single female coppers will be trying hard to impress him tonight, but since his divorce and loss of custody of his kids because of his drinking, his interest in women has been minimal.
