Den’s mind was going nineteen to the dozen. When had the photo of Mina been taken? He was about to go and talk to Dad about it when he saw a couple of young guys outside the front. One of them leaned a bike against the café window, then the door pinged and they came in, a stumpy-legged dog in their wake. He recognised the lads. They were part of the gang that hung around the estate. He knew them from school, too. They’d been in Year Seven when he was in sixth form.
‘All right, Dennis,’ one of them said. This was Danno – just under six foot, pale skin and a slick of dark hair. He wasn’t the biggest of the gang, but he was the one they all seemed to look up to. Den cringed inside at the use of his full name – something he hated, which had followed him right through school – but tried not to show it.
‘You can’t bring the dog in here. You know that.’
Danno raised his eyebrows. ‘Looks like I can, doesn’t it?’
Den knew he should insist. He also knew how ugly this could turn. If they got a takeaway, maybe it wouldn’t matter. It would only be a couple of minutes.
‘Okay, just quickly. What can I get you?’
Danno studied the menu on the board behind Den, even though it never changed and he’d been in here a hundred times. He rubbed his hands together.
‘Double cheeseburger, mate,’ he said. Den added it into the till. ‘With bacon.’ A pause while Den added that. ‘And fries.’ Another pause. ‘Hang on, scrap the bacon. Just the double cheeseburger.’
Den could feel the colour seeping into his face. Why did he get like this? They were customers; he was behind the till. This was his job. Somehow, though, it felt like they were taking the piss.
‘Eating in?’ he said.
‘Yeah.’
‘And I’ll have the same,’ Danno’s mate said. Den couldn’t remember his name but he was a stocky lad who always seemed to be at Danno’s side. His wingman. ‘But just one burger, cheeseburger, and I’ll have bacon on mine. But no tomato.’
‘Lettuce?’
The guy looked at him like he’s said something stupid. ‘Yeah, lettuce but no tomato.’ He looked at Danno and they both pulled faces to indicate their amusement at Den’s slowness. Den was full-on blushing now.
‘Do you guys want drinks?’
‘I’ll have a Coke.’
‘Yeah, make it two.’
Den read their order back to them. He was sure he’d written it down correctly, but they both rolled their eyes as he was reading.
‘No, I was a double bacon cheeseburger with no mayo and Vince here is a double cheeseburger, no bacon, lettuce but no tomato. Got it this time?’ Danno twisted his fingers into the side of his head.
Den tried again.
‘That’s it,’ said Danno. ‘Simples.’ He paid in cash. Den noticed he pulled a couple of tenners from quite a fistful of notes. He gave them their drinks and told them he’d bring their food over when it was ready. They sat down at a table near the wall, away from the window. Den couldn’t hear what they were saying but they kept looking over in his direction and laughing. He just knew they were going to eat half their food and then complain he’d got the order wrong and demand their money back or more burgers for free.
Den took the ticket for the food through to the kitchen. Dad wasn’t there, so he continued into the office. Dad was leaning forward in his chair, his face illuminated by the light of his PC.
‘There’s a food order, burgers and chips,’ Den said.
‘You deal with it. I’m busy.’
Den frowned. Whenever he tried his hand in the kitchen, the results were always disparaged by Dad. Nothing was ever good enough, even a bacon sarnie. It was unlike him to trust Den with the grill and fryer.
‘Dad, it’s those kids again. If I cook it wrong, they’ll kick up a fuss.’
Dad looked at him disparagingly. ‘So don’t cook it wrong, son. You took their order. You know what they want.’
The screen in front of him showed a static image from a CCTV camera.
‘Have you found something?’ Den said.
‘I’m not sure. Maybe.’
‘Let me look.’
Den peered over Dad’s shoulder. The footage was from the camera that covered the counter and the till. The timer in the bottom of the screen read, ‘14/11 15:32:05’. The image wasn’t pin-sharp – you had to pay extra for good quality – but he could see two figures on screen. One of them was behind the counter. The camera angle caught the person’s shoulders and the top of their head. Den did a double-take. Was he really starting to thin on top? That much? Because, of course, the server at the till was him. On the other side of the desk a small girl was reaching across, placing a coin on the counter. The hood was down; the shoulders of her coat were glistening from the soaking she’d had outside. Her hair was tied into two pigtails.
‘I think it’s her, Dad. I’m not one hundred per cent. Is that all we’ve got?’
Dad played the footage backwards and forwards. They tried the camera outside the shop, but it hadn’t been working – there was nothing at all from that one. So there was just the one sequence. It lasted one minute and thirty-five seconds. As Den watched it again, his gut spasmed and he felt a shiver run up and down his spine. He remembered what Dad had said before. What if you were the last person to see her?