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So he took out another tenner.
“You really don’t like information all that much, huh?”
Jake drew a breath, then took out the last twenty he had. Forty quid. “All I got.”
The woman snatched it and tucked it into her bra. She then blew out the last of her cigarette and threw it to the ground, stamping it out with her high-heeled shoe.
“There were a few girls round here who had the heart. Men too.”
“Does it mean summat?”
“You belong somewhere.”
“Where?”
She laughed. “Somewhere you ain’t freezing your tits off out here.” She waved across the street.
Jake glanced down the wet road and the distant dock lights bleeding through drizzle. Then, before he could really stop himself, he flipped open his wallet again and tugged out the old photograph tucked behind his licence. Robyn smiled back at him from faded paper. Wind dragging through her hair. Young forever. He showed it to her.
“Have you seen her?”
The woman took the photo between two fingers, desecrating it with smoky residue. “Who is she?”
“My sister. Robyn.” He sniffed. “Went missing years back.”
The woman studied the photograph beneath the flickering streetlight, and something crossed her face. Not recognition exactly. It was less certain than that. Whatever it was, it made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
“Did she have a stitched heart then?” She handed the photo back.
Jake stared down at Robyn’s face. “I don’t know. Thought maybe someone here might know if she did.”
Christ.
That sounded bloody awful out loud.
He swallowed hard. “I’m just trying to find out where she went. Where she might’ve ended up.”
It felt ridiculous saying it here. Hessle Road wasn’t Hartswick. Robyn had a home. A family. Teddy. She wasn’t some lost kid drifting from city to city. The idea she’d ended up working these streets felt like a stretch even to him. But thirteen years without answers did strange things to a man. He’d stopped caring whether a lead made sense. Stopped caring how desperate he looked.
He just followed it.
The woman watched him for a beat, then tilted her head. “Where’d she disappear from?”
“Hartswick.”
Surprise crossed her face. “Hartswick.” She rolled the name around her tongue.
Jake frowned. “You know it?”
“Never been.” She shrugged. “Didn’t get invited.”
“Invited?”
She looked away towards the traffic then, as headlights swung slowly around the corner. A car glided towards the kerb beside them, and she changed instantly. Shoulders straightening. Expression flattening. Practised and distant. Her guard went up so fast it was almost frightening to watch. Then she started towards the passenger window with a lazy confidence, as if stepping back into a role she knew too well.
Jake took an instinctive step after her. “Wait—”
She glanced back over one bare shoulder.
