Tomoko changed in the locker room before returning to Administration, where she saw Press Director Genichi Funaki at Futawatari’s desk. The two men were locked in a heated discussion.
‘What if it turns out not to be the reporter? Look, we have to be careful. If the press catch wind of the fact that Officer Hirano has gone missing . . .’
Tomoko caught the man’s trademark body odour as she overheard part of their conversation. Funaki was a contemporary of Futawatari’s. Equally aggressive in their pursuit of advancement, they had made inspector together. Yet Futawatari’s promotion to superintendent had come two years ahead of his colleague’s. Their relationship, Tomoko had heard, had never been the same since. This made it difficult to gauge how much the press director’s refusal to cooperate stemmed from his fear of tipping off the press and how much from his personal issues with Futawatari.
Tomoko bit into a pastry, using her free hand to pull out a binder marked ‘Female Officers Network’. Inside were the phone numbers of all forty-eight female officers posted across the headquarters and the prefecture’s seventeen district stations. She had decided it would be useful in gathering more information on Mizuho. Tomoko had hesitated until now, not wanting to be the source of gossip, but it was already four thirty. She couldn’t allow herself to sit back and do nothing while she waited for Mizuho to return.
She dialled the first number on the list.
Police Sergeant Saito. Criminal Investigations. Station W.
Officer Saito had worked with Tomoko in Administration until her transfer out last year.
‘I’d like you to make some calls.’
Tomoko brought Saito up to speed, leaving her with instructions to call the officers at the substation near Train Station M if she learned anything new, anything at all. Putting the phone down, Tomoko turned around.
Futawatari and Funaki were still sniping at each other.
‘You must know the brands your reporters smoke. You are the press director?’
‘Of course I am. That’s why I’m telling you: this is dangerous.’
Tomoko waited for an opening then informed Futawatari that she was going back to the train station. She left the office and walked down the corridor. Making quick work of the stairs, she left via the building’s main entrance. It was already growing dark outside, mirroring the half-light inside the building.
Tomoko kept her foot on the accelerator and arrived at the station just as the Mobile Forensics team were packing up.
‘Watch duty, Sniffer?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Tough break.’
She sat on a pavement bench a little away from the drop-off point. It was now past five thirty. Crowds emerged from the station every fifteen to twenty minutes, indicating the start of the evening rush. The majority were in dark suits, so a cream dress would stand out.
Where on earth are you?
It was dark by seven. With most of the cars gone, Mizuho’s was left by itself. Once she was confident she’d grasped the timing of the trains, Tomoko got to her feet. She walked to the phone box outside the store and dialled the number for home.
‘Hello?’ The uninterested tone of her son’s voice, recently broken, was just like his father’s.
‘Yacho. Have you had dinner yet?’
‘Stop calling me that,’ he protested.
‘Sorry. Ya-chi-o. Look, I’m going to be late after all.’
‘. . .’
‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Try to get some studying done, won’t you?’
The line clicked off.
Her watch showed eight, then nine, and still there was no sign of Mizuho. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she waited there alone. She realised it would be the same for her son. Waiting was the only constant he’d had, growing up.
Tomoko checked her watch again, noting the time as nine thirty when an officer in uniform jogged up to her from the substation. They’d had a call from one of her female officers, a Mitsuko Adachi from Juvenile Crime in headquarters. She’d called after hearing of Mizuho’s disappearance via the network.
‘This is Tomoko. Do you have something for me, Officer Adachi?’
‘Yes. I saw Mizuho’s car, early this morning.’
‘Her car? Where?’
The news came as a shock. Mitsuko went on to tell Tomoko that she’d seen Mizuho’s car a little before eight that morning, parked outside the Prefectural HQ. I’m pretty sure it was her. She always parks in the same spot and the grille kind of stands out. Her tone had left little room for doubt. Tomoko found it hard to regain her calm, even after she ended the call.
Mizuho had come to work. She’d made it as far as the parking area but driven off instead of coming in.
It didn’t make sense.
Tomoko slumped back into her metal chair inside the substation. She could at least be certain now that Mizuho had not made her decision to disappear until early that morning. She’d been out of sorts the previous evening, perhaps, but she’d come all the way to the Prefectural HQ. She’d intended to come to work as usual. Something had happened in the parking area to change her mind. But what? Had Mild Seven called her while she was in the car? That didn’t seem likely. As far as Tomoko knew, Mizuho didn’t own a mobile phone. Which left . . . what? Tomoko felt suddenly afraid, as though she’d peered into an old, dark well.
‘Excuse me. Sir?’
‘. . .’
‘Sir . . .?’
Coming back to herself, Tomoko looked around to see the officer in uniform once again holding up his phone.
‘We’ve just been informed that Officer Hirano is back with her family.’