Half the World Away

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I wake with a start. My first thought is Lori. Lori lost. I’m lying on my back, and Tom’s arm is across my stomach, heavy and warm. The curtains aren’t fully closed and in the pale light I can make out his face, peaceful. Holding his wrist lightly so his arm won’t drop and wake him, I edge out of bed.

After putting on my nightdress and finding my room key, I walk along the corridor. I examine my conscience for signs of guilt, for a tell-tale twist in my stomach, a sinking feeling, but there is nothing. Hollow. I am hollow. Calm. Which can’t be right. Dazed.

The sky is clear blue. All blue. The medley of horns and music and motors roars on unceasing.

I lie on my bed and scroll through my phone. Lori holding Finn when he was born. Isaac and Finn sleeping cuddled up to Benji. Nick with Isaac on his shoulders. Lori on a horse at the age of thirteen, a few months when it was the only activity she wanted to do. Her graduation day, Tom, Nick and Lori. Her two dads. The three of them beaming.

The skull, its grinning teeth, flashes into my head and I shut my phone. Covered with goose-bumps, I climb under the sheet. Listen to the din of the city, let it fill my head. Every time my thoughts slither back to Bradley Carlson, to the wardrobe, to the suitcase, I change position and focus on the noises outside. Imagine the drivers, irascible in the traffic jams, the women dancing by the underpass, the calligrapher with his giant brush, the licks of water on the stone path, the toddler and his squeaking shoes.

My phone rings and it’s Tom. ‘I’ve just had a call from Peter Dunne,’ he says. ‘He wants to see us – he’ll be here in about twenty minutes. There’s a meeting room on the ground floor, room four.’

It’s unlucky, I think, number four. The character is similar to the one for death so the Chinese avoid using a four when they can. I’m stupid to think this way: how much more bad luck can I get?

‘You OK?’ he says gently.

‘Yes.’ He’s asking about last night.

‘Good.’

I shower and dress and make my way to the room.

Tom is there already, with Peter Dunne and a Chinese man I haven’t met. All standing.

Peter Dunne introduces the stranger. ‘Mrs Maddox, this is Detective Song. He is working with Superintendent Yin.’

Detective Song shakes my hand. He is younger than Super-intendent Yin, no sign of grey in his hair. He has a smooth, broad face and one eye is narrower than the other, which makes him look as if he’s peering or scrutinizing something.

‘Please take a seat,’ Peter Dunne says.

Once we’re all settled in the easy chairs, he continues, ‘We’ve heard today from the forensic laboratory here in Chengdu.’

My stomach clenches and my mouth goes dry.

‘Comparison with dental records proves that the remains found are not Lorelei’s.’

‘Not?’ Tom says.

‘Sorry?’ I say.

‘It is not Lorelei,’ Peter Dunne repeats.

Tom makes a noise, like a laugh, incredulous.

I don’t understand. I get to my feet. ‘How can… who… but who…’ The room spins.

‘Sit down.’ Tom reaches for my arm and pulls me back. ‘Who is it, then?’ he says.

‘We don’t know yet,’ Peter Dunne says. He says something to Detective Song, and gets a reply. ‘Detective Song says they’re making every effort to determine the identity but they do know the remains are female and either Chinese or Japanese.’

I’m trying to disentangle what he’s saying. It feels like my brain is stuck, full of fog. ‘It’s definitely not Lori?’ I say.

‘Definitely,’ Peter Dunne says.

Tom sighs, a great shudder. ‘Oh, God.’

‘She’s still missing, then,’ I say. A laugh, twisted, dangerous, flowers in my chest. ‘You must tell him,’ I point to Detective Song, ‘tell Superintendent Yin, her camera, on Lori’s camera, there are pictures from the Monday when she was meeting Bradley. They must look at them.’

‘Pictures of Bradley Carlson?’ Peter Dunne says.

‘No. But from that… it could… they must-’ My words become garbled.

‘Thank you.’ Peter Dunne exchanges words with Detective Song, who speaks for some time.

‘The camera,’ I say again.

‘Yes,’ Peter Dunne says. ‘The camera has been taken in as evidence and will be examined. Detective Song has every expectation that Mr Carlson will confess to his crimes and tell them what he knows of Lorelei’s disappearance.’

‘They are looking?’ Tom says. ‘They are actively looking for her?’

Peter Dunne speaks and I see a polite smile from Detective Song. Then we wait for a translation.

‘Searches are being made of Mr Carlson’s place of work, and his current and previous address in Chengdu.’

‘They could check his phone, couldn’t they?’ I say. ‘Find out where he was that day. With all the technology they can do that. They do it at home, don’t they?’

Detective Song’s next statement is that all necessary resources will be used to trace Lorelei.

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ a rush of anger penetrates my confusion, ‘is he just saying what he thinks we want to hear?’ I nod towards the policeman.

‘This nutter has already killed someone,’ Tom says.

‘Are they looking?’ I say. ‘The photos together with Bradley’s mobile. They can track where Lori was.’

Detective Song sits unruffled. Peter Dunne talks to him, pressing him, I hope. ‘He assures me that they will-’

‘When? They should be out there now. My daughter is in danger.’ I’m on my feet again. Tom makes no move to restrain me.

‘They are also launching a murder investigation,’ says Peter Dunne.

‘So get Interpol involved, ask for help,’ Tom says. ‘Whatever the fuck it takes.’

‘They wouldn’t even know about the murder if we hadn’t-’ I begin.

‘Mrs Maddox-’ Peter Dunne sounds like he’s cajoling me.

‘Don’t bother,’ I say. ‘Don’t fucking bother.’ And I walk out.

Tom catches up with me in the foyer. I can sense people’s eyes on us, the drama unfolding, the Westerners making a fuss.

‘We do it ourselves,’ I say to him.

‘Yes,’ he says, his eyes fixed on mine. ‘You get the map.’