RACHEL

MONDAY, JULY 22, 2013
EVENING
And now I wait. It’s agonizing, the not knowing, theslowness with which everything is bound to move.
But there’s nothing more to do.
I was right, this morning, when I felt that dread. Ijust didn’t know what I had to be afraid of.
Not Scott. When he pulled me inside he must haveseen the terror in my eyes, because almostimmediately he let go of me. Wild-eyed anddishevelled, he seemed to shrink back from the light,and closed the door behind us. “What are you doinghere? There are photographers, journalistseverywhere. I can’t have people coming to the door.
Hanging around. They’ll say things?.?.?. They’ll try?.?.?.
they’ll try anything, to get pictures, to get—”
“There’s no one out there,” I said, though to behonest I hadn’t really looked. There might have beenpeople sitting in cars, waiting for something tohappen.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded again.
“I heard?.?.?. it was on the news. I just wanted?.?.?. isit him? Have they arrested him?”
He nodded. “Yes, early this morning. The familyliaison person was here. She came to tell me. Butshe couldn’t?.?.?. they won’t tell me why. They musthave found something, but they won’t tell me what.
It’s not her, though. I know that they haven’t foundher.”
He sits down on the stairs and wraps his armsaround himself. His whole body is trembling.
“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand waiting for the phoneto ring. When the phone rings, what will it be? Will itbe the worst news? Will it be?.?.?.” He tails off, thenlooks up as though he’s seeing me for the first time.
“Why did you come?”
“I wanted?.?.?. I thought you wouldn’t want to bealone.”
He looked at me as though I was insane. “I’m notalone,” he said. He got up and pushed past me intothe living room. For a moment, I just stood there. Ididn’t know whether to follow him or to leave, butthen he called out, “Do you want a coffee?”
There was a woman outside on the lawn, smoking.
Tall, with salt-and-pepper hair, she was smartlydressed in black trousers and white blouse done upto the throat. She was pacing up and down thepatio, but as soon as she caught sight of me, shestopped, flicked her cigarette onto the paving stonesand crushed it beneath her toe.
“Police?” she asked me doubtfully as she enteredthe kitchen.
“No, I’m—”
“This is Rachel Watson, Mum,” Scott said. “Thewoman who contacted me about Abdic.”
She nodded slowly, as though Scott’s explanationdidn’t really help her; she took me in, her gazesweeping rapidly over me from head to toe and backagain. “Oh.”
“I just, er?.?.?.” I didn’t have a justifiable reason forbeing there. I couldn’t say, could I, I just wanted toknow. I wanted to see.
“Well, Scott is very grateful to you for comingforward. We’re obviously waiting now to find outwhat exactly is going on.” She stepped towards me,took me by the elbow and turned me gently towardsthe front door. I glanced at Scott, but he wasn’tlooking at me; his gaze was fixed somewhere out ofthe window, across the tracks.
“Thank you for stopping by, Ms. Watson. We reallyare very grateful to you.”
I found myself on the doorstep, the front doorclosed firmly behind me, and when I looked up Isaw them: Tom, pushing a buggy, and Anna at hisside. They stopped dead when they saw me. Annaraised her hand to her mouth and swooped down tograb her child. The lioness protecting her cub. Iwanted to laugh at her, to tell her, I’m not here foryou, I couldn’t be less interested in your daughter.
I’m cast out. Scott’s mother made that clear. I’mcast out and I’m disappointed, but it shouldn’t matter,because they have Kamal Abdic. They’ve got him,and I helped. I did something right. They’ve got him,and it can’t be long now before they find Megan andbring her home.