Rachel

Rachel checked her phone for the zillionth time. She’d called her contacts at several television stations and was waiting to see if a news crew could be sent in time for the evening news.

‘We wouldn’t usually do a media conference this early on,’ Detective Mani said when she called him with an update. ‘We’re still not entirely sure this is an abduction. And Bridie is not a young child, which is a significant factor to—’

Rachel cut across him. ‘I thought we agreed she wouldn’t voluntarily leave her wallet or phone in a rubbish bin. I thought we were looking into individuals who have motive to hurt our family. Why are we going around in circles?’

Detective Mani sighed at the other end of the line. ‘We need to keep an open mind, is all I’m trying to say. Mainstream media can go one of two ways – lukewarm or intense. Depends on how newsworthy they think it is. If their reaction is on the intense side, we’re talking about reporters camped outside your home, Rachel. Speculation about you and Rory and Emmet. Constant requests for interviews. Heckling neighbours for input on your family life. You’d all become pseudo celebrities and never ever get your privacy back.’

The room darkened. Another late-afternoon storm was blowing in from the sea. Was Bridie inside from the weather, or outside? Could she see the same clouds, the same storm cells? Where are you, my love?

‘Jesus, as if I care about my privacy right now! The reporters can camp out in the garden if they want – I’ll even give them tea and biscuits. Bring on the media. Bring on the six o’clock news.’

Another sigh. ‘You’re too late for the six news, Rachel. The best you can hope for is the late-night news.’

He was right. She’d been deluding herself. About so many things.

~

Rory and Sean returned home at about 4.30 pm. Rachel kept an eye on her phone as she listened to their account of the afternoon.

‘You broke into Cabrera’s house?’ She wasn’t sure if she’d heard right.

Sean shrugged. ‘Well, given that we couldn’t talk to the bastard face to face … At least we know she’s not there.’

‘Oh my God. Didn’t I say not to do anything stupid?’

‘Hey, you could just thank me.’

Despite being appalled, she was weirdly grateful to Sean. ‘So, what now? Is it worth watching the house for a while, see what Cabrera gets up to?’

How could she be having this conversation?

She sighed. She was having this conversation because she didn’t know how long it would take the police to zero in on the perpetrator. And, unlike them, she was free to act on instinct rather than cold hard evidence.

Rory sat down opposite her at the kitchen table, his face as crumpled as his clothes. ‘I don’t know what to do next. I’m scrambling, trying to understand. Did you notice a man on the platform? He was watching us while we were waiting for Emmet. He had a black cap?’

‘I didn’t notice anyone,’ she said. ‘Was the man tall, well built?’ If Nico had been at the station, she would have noticed him. She was almost certain of that.

Rory rubbed his eyes. ‘The more I try to visualise him, the blurrier he becomes. I think he was just a normal guy going about his business, but how can I know for sure? Then there’s Fitz. He supposedly went for a walk on the beach last night, on his own, which is kind of suspicious. Sean and I checked the toilet blocks and park just now. Nothing.’

Rachel took a deep breath and forced her spiralling thoughts to focus on one thing: Fitz. She trawled through her recollections of last night, retrospectively casting for clues. Bridie had spent so much time getting ready, perfecting her make-up, hair and outfit. For her own benefit? Or in the hope or expectation that she would see Fitz? Rachel had been distracted by her own problems when she should have been considering what was going on in her daughter’s head, anticipating and somehow preventing catastrophe.

She rewound her thoughts by a few months, to September when she had met with the school principal. Their discussion had been more about the unfairness of Bridie’s detention than Fitz’s sexual remarks to an underage girl.

‘What do I do?’ Rory repeated, tiredly massaging his temples. ‘Should I go around to Fitz’s house?’

The bottom line was, they couldn’t afford to wholly rely on the cops. Not when the police were so often accused of missing obvious clues, and lacking agility, imagination and even intelligence.

‘Yes,’ she replied, in barely a whisper.

The question was, should they have gone to Fitz’s house months ago?