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six days missing
chapter 19
alex
I’m on the beach again, following what has now become a familiar route, when my sister calls me. I’m aware I’ve become a local curiosity, like a Victorian fisherman’s widow haunting the wharf; I feel the eyes follow me as I walk along the sand. There are pictures of me in the local papers:grieving mother’s lonely vigil.But I can’t stay away. I feel close to Lottie here.
I watch the flaming sun sink into the glittering silver sea. Sunset: the golden hour, beloved by photographers for its warm, flattering light.
The hour my daughter disappeared.
‘What time is it where you are?’ I ask Harriet.
‘I don’t know. Late. Or early, I suppose. I couldn’t sleep. How are you doing?’
‘Not good.’
‘I wish I could be there,’ Harriet says. ‘I just don’t want to get in the way. I thought I could do more good here, trying to keep the press interested.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, and almost mean it.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ she says. ‘What about money? Do you—’
‘I’m good. The hotel says I can stay here as long as I need. Mum and Dad, too.’
Lottie and I should have been checking out today. Our flight home is scheduled this afternoon. One of the senior partners at Muysken Ritter called me the day after the press conference to tell me that the resources of the firm are at my disposal; I only have to ask. I’m not to worry about work. They’ve redistributed my cases to my colleagues and put me on paid leave. I feel as if I’m letting my clients down.
‘I’ve told Mum and Dad to stay as long as you need them,’ Harriet says. ‘I’ll cover their expenses every month till this is over. Mungo can afford it. Wewantto do it.’
I can’t imagine another week of not knowing where Lottie is, never mind another month.
As I say goodbye to my sister and pocket my phone, I see Marc coming down the beach towards me. My brain reflexively processes this as I do everything now, through the prism of Lottie’s disappearance:he isn’t running, so she hasn’t been found.My parents have done their best to look after me, but supporting them through their own grief depletes what little reserves I have. Marc is the one who’s held me together.
He hasn’t left my side since Lottie went missing.
He’s a small man, Marc, short and wiry, like a jockey. His features are irregular, unremarkable. But he’s constantly in motion, filled with barely suppressed energy. He’s set up a website and GoFundMe account for Lottie, and become our de facto media liaison officer. He can’t stay here forever, but I have no idea how I’ll manage without him.
I know what Sian thinks. She’s always felt there’s more to our relationship than either of us will admit. Perhaps she’s right.
He’s holding his phone out to me now, turned sideways so I can see the video paused on the screen. I can’t tell from his expression if it is good news or bad.
‘You’re not going to believe this,’ he says.
For a moment, I wonder why he’s showing me footage of the president of the United States fielding questions about China from the steps of his Florida estate at Mar-a-Lago. I wait impatiently for the next story, the one about Lottie.
And then suddenly the president interrupts his own press conference.
‘This kidnap, this Lottie Martini, did you hear about that?’ he says. ‘Here, in Florida, in this great state. Did you hear about it? It’s a horrible thing, a horrible thing. A girl, a little girl, I mean, British. She’s British. I love England. We have a great relationship, they love me over there. I have a mother born in Scotland. And as you know, Stornoway is serious Scotland. You don’t get any more serious than that. It’s so beautiful. My mother loved Scotland. My mother also loved the Queen.’
‘Jesus,’ I breathe.
‘This is going to change everything,’ Marc says.
‘That’s good, isn’t it? Everyone’s going to be looking for her after this!’
‘Yes, but it also means the police are going to be swamped with calls and sightings from Alaska to Honolulu,’ Marc says, as we turn and walk briskly back towards the hotel. ‘They’re going to have to check out every single one of them. It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack. They don’t have the manpower for this. We need to help triage the calls, so they can focus their attention on the ones that could be genuine.’
‘Us? How are we supposed to do that?’
