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‘He can pull some strings.’
I frowned suddenly, remembering Greg had already referenced something about Emory and the gargoyles. I hated secrets. ‘Never mind.’ I muttered. ‘I think Greg can pull the same strings. He did earlier.’
‘It’s worth looking into. Maybe they’re unrelated, maybe not. Steve is looking for Bobby – you can look into the gargoyle thing and look for Bobby’s dad.’
‘His name is Hamlet.’
‘The missing kid?’
‘The missing dad.’
‘Ouch. Parents can be so cruel.’
‘I heard some parents called their child Recycling Bins – apparently that’s where they conceived him. They called him Reese for short.’
‘Crikey. That makes Hamlet sound reasonable.’
‘Doesn’t it?’
‘I know now probably isn’t the time to bring this up but, just to let you know, I haven’t forgotten about you. I’m in the middle of tracking down some fancy-ass jewellery that’s been taken. It’s time sensitive, but once I’ve found it I’m going to the adoption agency in person.’
Frankly, my adoption was the furthest thing from my mind right now. On my wobbly days, I ruminated constantly on who my birth parents had been, where in the world they were and why they had given me up. On my good days, my adoptive family were everything I needed and I tried not to give a flying fuck about the parents who’d left me behind.
I cleared my throat, which was suddenly tight. I needed to get a rein on my emotions; I’d be no good to anyone if I let myself wallow in self-pity. My issues were very much bottom of the priorities list. Bobby was front and centre.
‘Luce – you okay? I’m sorry, I’ve let you down—’
I realised I’d been quiet for too long. ‘Not at all!’ I said hastily. ‘You’re looking into this for me as a friend, and it’s not at all time sensitive. It’s waited twenty-two years, so a few more days won’t make a difference.’
I was adopted when I was three, and though I should havesomememories of my birth parents, I have sweet FA. Not a single memory. It had always bothered me, why couldn’t I remember something – a scent, a tune? I had nothing. Most people have a memory from their early childhood; I had bupkis.
‘If you’re sure. Maybe I can help with Bobby. I’m in the Other right now, so I can tell if someone is lying or not over the phone. Put the mum on and I’ll ask her a few questions then I can tell you if she’s involved.’
‘That would be great. I don’t think she is, but it would be handy to know for sure. I’ll take you to her in a minute.’ I gave her a brief run down on the facts that I knew, then went back through to my office. Sonia was still looking emotional, but she had a handle on the tears.
‘Sonia? I have my friend Jess on the line. She’s a private investigator and she’s going to ask you a few questions. She’s a professional, so she may think of something we’ve overlooked. Okay?’ Sonia nodded. ‘You’ll need to answer aloud,’ I reminded her. ‘Jess, go. You’re on speakerphone.’
‘Hi Sonia.’ Jess’s voice was gentle. ‘I’m sorry that Bobby is missing. This must be incredibly stressful for you, but Lucy is going to do everything possible to find him. Can I ask you some questions?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘You dropped Bobby off at school?’
‘Yes.’
‘And everything was okay? You didn’t spot anything unusual?’
‘No.’
‘No interlopers?’
‘No.’
‘Is Bobby happy at school? Are there any signs he’s being bullied, or anything like that?’
‘No, he loves school. He has lots of friends.’
‘Any of those friends off school today?’
