She pointed at a metal chair in the corner of the room.
“Sit,” she directed. “Don’t move until I tell you. I’m going to finish teaching, and then we’re calling your parents.”
The kid looked stunned, and for a moment Nikki thought the wailing would start. But Audrey nodded humbly and complied.
—
When class was finished and the students began to filter away, Nikki called Sonia. After all, this was her case.
But Sonia didn’t pick up—and neither did Emilio.
Fuck. Double fuck.
She left messages for them, and turned back to Audrey.
The girl hadn’t left her seat; her coat and gloves and hat were strewn on the floor at her feet.
“Where are your parents?” Nikki asked.
“Dunno.”
“They’ll be worried about you.”
“Nobody cares about me,” Audrey insisted. “Can I come home with you?”
“Of course not.”
There was the trembling lip again.
“For fuck’s sake,” Nikki muttered.
“You said a swear,” said Audrey, instantly cheered. “Fuck’s sake. For fuck’s sake.”
Nikki swore again, then made a decision.
“Come with me. We need to get you home.”
Audrey followed Nikki around the studio as she shut off lights, and then out the door.
“Mum was so cross with you,” she said, and imitated Fiona’s drunken speech: “Fucking bitch. I’ll report her. Doesn’t she know who I am?”
—
It took twenty minutes to reach the Molo Luise marina. Nikki felt nervous with the girl on the back of her Hornet, her own helmet strapped on the kid, maneuvering carefully through the chaotic city streets. Audrey had no sense at all. Sometimes she gripped tightly onto Nikki, and other times didn’t hold on. She leaned the wrong way in the turns, and babbled, words that Nikki had no chance of understanding above the engine noises, the horns, the blare of radios, and the shouting.
By the time she caught sight of the marina, Nikki was raw with tension—every nerve a charged wire. She drew the bike up on the pavement and parked. Maneuvering them both off the Hornet, she took the helmet off Audrey, whose face was red and sweaty, damp hair slicked to her head.
“That was fun,” said Audrey, puffing out her cheeks.
—
The dozens of yachts berthed in the marina were eerily beautiful: Fairy towers lit against the velvet black of the sea, chrome finishes gleaming in the lamplight. There was the metallic slosh of water against the hulls, the clink of metal cables, the murmur of voices. It smelled of fuel, of cooked food, and of the sea.
Audrey said that she recognized the marina, but didn’t know how to find her parents’ yacht. Nikki chose the longest of the seven piers and they began to walk.
Audrey, who hadn’t shut up until now, was oddly silent. Nikki was relieved for the change and almost didn’t notice when Audrey’s pace slowed and then stopped. At last, Nikki turned around to see the kid standing still, staring at her. She’d looped a lock of hair into her mouth and was sucking on the end.
“What happened to Claire?” Audrey said in a small voice. “Nobody will tell me.”
