‘OK,’ Simone says. ‘We can pay you – we have cash.’
Moody raises his hand in a dismissive wave. ‘Pay me after I’ve helped you. Until then, pro bono.’
‘No –’
‘No argument.’ He gets to his feet. ‘And … I’m really sorry,’ he says, taking the notepads. ‘For what happened to you. I have no doubt it occurred like you said.’
He lets them out, into a hot pool of afternoon sunlight. It’s silent out here. He turns to them, his hair catching the light, and meets Simone’s eyes. ‘I’ll be in touch. Let’s go find him.’
Simone wakes at four o’clock once again the following morning, this time from a dream Lucy’s toddler hand has slipped from hers on a train platform. Simone shouted after her, but no sound came out.
As she comes to, she thinks that, one day, Lucy will live without Simone. She will get up every morning without her, go to bed every morning without her and, oh, how does any parent ever cope with this?
Damien hasn’t messaged her. Simone typeshello, then waits five minutes, ten, but there’s nothing today. She waits an hour, then two, then sleep comes for her again, as traitorous as ever, a human need that can’t be fought, no matter how much you want to stay awake, no matter who needs you. When she wakes again at eight, he still hasn’t replied. She checks the news, just in case he’s been found, but there’s nothing new today.
CHAPTER 49
Later that morning, they have stumbled upon a compromise between Lucy staying alone in the pink house (Simone wouldn’t allow) and Lucy coming into the shop (they both thought foolish). Simone will go and buy food, Lucy will linger outside, and then they will get to do what everybody needs to do when stressed: eat carbohydrates.
They walk the streets together quickly, and Simone is thinking about Dishes. A weird mix of pain and pride rises up through her. A Michelin star. Everything she ever wanted. Of course, the article went on to say,awarded to a fugitive, subject to revocation. But it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t, any longer, care about the increased footfall, the profits; she cares only that the food was good enough, unusual enough, interesting enough. Her food. Her restaurant, her service, her decor. Her inventions. Her warm green bean fucking salad.
But she won’t be there to see it. Might never. In the relentless, hot-oil sun, her eyes burn as she tells Lucy to stay close by.
The tiny Terlinguan supermarket – called the General Store – has an old-fashioned vibe, and Simone finds a thrill and romance in this. Linoleum floors, wire racks, mess everywhere and, oh, she could linger here, smelling the different citrus notes in their oranges and poking through that 1995 ice-cream freezer over there with the sideways-sliding lid.
She can feel it, the pull of home, of their old life, of Damien. She wonders what he’s doing, why he isn’t messaging;it’ll be so long before he shakes any surveillance off. And even if he does, then what?
In a hurry, she buys basic groceries, nothing memorable, though she can’t help but notice several things. The smell is different. Nothing like the sanitized Sainsbury’s at home. This is warmer, the air spicy but also stale. The shelves are dusty. They have surprisingly good salt, and she buys it. Will crush it over marinating meat soon.
She tries to hide her face at the checkout. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t count the dollars, just puts a clutch of them into an anonymous palm that is outstretched. She doesn’t buy some cream she sees even though it’s locally churned and she’s interested.
Instead, she leaves quickly, to find Lucy outside, all the while wondering if it will always feel this way, like walking around with an unexploded bomb, a neon sign above her head, the Sword of Damocles, swinging softly above her, just waiting to fall.
CHAPTER 50
The Kidnapper
Central Terlingua – if you can really even call it that – and the search for her continues. I’m near the (few) shops and two bars that couldn’t look more different: one with open sides and cheap white plastic tables, the other wooden, a latticed walkway made from logs, a turquoise-painted sign that saysBAR AND GRILL/SINCE1979.
There are a handful of people around, and I scan each face hurriedly as they move in and out of the buildings.
A group of men in walking gear, one with binoculars (how useful they might be). A couple emerging from the first bar, carrying takeout drinks in plastic cups with straws. A man in a cowboy hat with a tiny dog that shouldn’t be out in this heat.
I stand under the shade of an awning, across the street from them, just watching. Watching for anybody young and female, thinking that she has no idea that I’m here, that she’s vulnerable to me. I’m already at an advantage.
Maybe she’s good at hiding, I find myself thinking.Maybe she knows to hide well.
I see a woman, eventually, emerging from a side street. Ponytail. Baseball cap. Shorts and T-shirt. Bronzed skin. Shoes that kick up the dust as she goes. She doesn’t look behind her as she leaves, me pursuing her.
But then – I lose her. She dips into an alley and doesn’t come out. By the time I’m in, she’s gone. Out the other end, or into a building somewhere, I don’t know.
I’ll try again tomorrow.
CHAPTER 51
Simone
Back up the street, Lucy is waiting for her exactly where she left her, by an orange triangular road sign that tells Simone once again that she is not in England.
