Page 59

The relatives’ room was deathly quiet. Seaton had been here for an hour and a half now, waiting uselessly for something to happen. For something to do.

Right up until eleven thirty, he’d paced fractiously around, trying to think of some way he might make himself useful and wanting to rail against the lack of communication from any of the officers here since his initial interview.

But then, having checked his phone for the hundredth time or more, he suddenly realised what the time meant. That more than thirty-six hours had now passed. More than thirty-six hours since anyone had seen Anna alive.

And something in him untethered itself.

They aren’t going to find her , he thought.

He felt as though his legs had lost solidity. He grabbed for one of the chairs and sat in it, but it felt like sitting on the deck of a boat. The whole room seemed to be heaving and rolling.

Why didn’t you love her like you should have done?

Nineteen wasted years. More than that, really. Anna’s whole lifetime wasted, barely knowing her, when he might have been a real father to her. And that tantalising hope that he might finally have her in his life… it had been all there was. All there would be.

He pulled his phone out and through the fractured lens of tears he found the photo album he’d saved. The one titled ‘Anna’.

He searched through the photos he’d kept of her. Those last images of her May Ball dress. Of the two of them at the cricket match. Of lunches and dinners.

Images that she’d sent him to show him what she was up to.

Sometimes in the clothes of her assumed characters, sometimes at work events, and, going back, some with Reid.

And then, beyond that, photographs of Anna back in the US.

Images of her dorm room and of her on campus at Columbia.

Images of her at regattas and, before that, at high-school proms and barbecues.

The images grew sparser as he scrolled back.

Her mother hadn’t liked sending him photos, though he had persisted in asking.

And back when she’d been in Cambridge with both of them, as a child, the photographs had been on his big digital camera instead.

Photographs that he’d printed and framed or put into albums.

The very last photograph he had of Anna on here was of her as a six-year-old.

He knew the date it had been taken: 14 August 2006.

Eight days after Carina had fled to Coney Island with her.

He knew, because he had been frantic with fear for his daughter and unable to believe that she was well until he saw it.

But there she’d been, six-year-old Anna, grinning agreeably at the camera, with a smudge of chocolate frosting on her cheek from the doughnut she was in the midst of consuming. Carefree and happy and, by the looks of it, missing him not at all.

You could have gone straight out there to see her , he thought, now. You could have asked her what she wanted and fought for her.

But he hadn’t. He hadn’t been that man. He’d been too willing to feel rejected, and ashamed, and as though he deserved for his daughter to move on.

He was still looking at that photo and willing himself to somehow have been a different man when Reid opened the door to the relatives’ room and said, ‘I need your help.’

Seaton straightened up, startled all over again by the force of this man; this man who he’d thought dogged and slow and unimaginative. How was he so determined? So energised? When he must, of all people, know that there was no hope now?

But Seaton found himself putting his phone away and pretending to be just as positive. Just as energetic.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘What do you need help with?’

‘I need to find Esther Thomas,’ Reid said. ‘Urgently. Her college tells us she’s here in London with her mother. And I thought you might be the man to tell us where the two of them would go.’

Urgently… The word cut through to Seaton, and he wondered whether there was some chance for Anna after all. If there was the tiniest chance, then he was going to step up.

‘I have a friend at the UN,’ he said. ‘Give me a moment.’

Five minutes later he hung up the phone with a ghost of a feeling of optimism.

‘She’s at the Francis Crick Institute,’ he told Reid, who had been pacing in the hallway. ‘Her mother is on a visit there and dragged her along. Bizarre thing to do on May Week, but Clarisse is renowned for being a tiger mother.’

‘You’re an absolute marvel,’ Reid told him. And then, after a beat, he said, ‘I’d like you to come along to see her, if you don’t mind.’

‘It’d be a pleasure,’ Seaton said, gathering up his briefcase and phone as though this were simply a favour to a friend and not about the life of his daughter.

They were at the Francis Crick Institute within twenty minutes. Reid had chosen an Uber over the tube, a choice Seaton was inclined to agree with. The man was looking quite unsteady again, and Seaton asked him quietly as they climbed in whether he’d taken another dose of painkillers.

‘I’ll…’ Reid began to protest, and then stopped. ‘No, I should. You’re right.’

He reached into his jacket pocket, and Seaton pulled his insulated water bottle out of his briefcase and handed it to him.

Reid gave a small smile of thanks and took the tablets quickly.

It didn’t seem to have done much to improve his focus by the time the Uber spewed them out at the Crick, however.

Reid had spent the whole journey staring into space.

But Seaton had hopes that things would improve as they worked their way into his bloodstream.

He’s worked something out , he thought.

Though for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to ask, directly, what it was, or whether it meant Anna was alive.

Seaton took the lead as they approached the reception desk. He explained that he was joining Clarisse Thomas for part of her trip, and the two receptionists bent over backwards to help him work out where to go.

‘She’s currently with Dr Langton,’ one of them said, as their two visitor passes emerged from the little photo printer on her desk. ‘Up on the South Side.’

Seaton smiled at her, feeling less of a failure at least than he had at the police station twenty-four hours ago. This was his domain, a place where he was both known and respected. He wasn’t going to be told not to be ridiculous and ejected onto the street.

Seaton took the two neatly encased passes. ‘I know where that is. Many thanks.’

He led Reid over to the lifts, trying to look businesslike.

‘That was… smooth,’ Reid said, appreciatively, as they waited for the lift. ‘Glad I brought you along.’

‘I suppose I have the equivalent of a badge here,’ Seaton told him, with a small smile.

They were up on the third floor in less than a minute. It was hot up here. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows of most of the South Side offices. A few others had their blinds closed, presumably so their occupants could escape the heat and the glare.

Seaton walked ahead down the hallway until he found a door marked Dr Manisha Langton and was gratified to see that both Clarisse and Esther were inside. They were with a young woman who was sitting behind the desk, and a young man who was presumably PR for the Crick.

Seaton had yet to meet Esther Thomas in person, though he’d met her mother a few times.

He was taken aback by how much she was the mirror of her mother: the tailored trousers; the dark hair in a very French haircut; the subtle lipstick; the glowing skin.

A mirror in every way except for her expression.

Where Clarisse was smiling with absolute poise as she listened to something Manisha Langton was saying, Esther’s expression was quietly, soulfully sad.

He might have felt for her if he hadn’t been here about Anna.

If you’ve dared to hurt her… he thought.

Seaton tapped on the door and opened it, feeling a strange little quirk of satisfaction at the way Clarisse’s smile dropped at the sight of him.

‘I’m so sorry to interrupt,’ he said, earnestly, ‘but the police here just need a quick word with Esther about when she last saw my daughter.’

He gave Esther a small, encouraging smile, for everyone else’s benefit, and let Reid come in and shake everyone by the hand.

‘Ah… of course,’ Clarisse said. ‘So sorry about this. Seaton is– his daughter went missing on Monday night. Anna is a very good friend of my daughter’s, so Esther is hoping to help them.

It’s been incredibly worrying for everyone, but we hope she’ll turn up very soon.

’ She slid an arm round Esther and then said, ‘Do go and talk to them, darling. I know how much it means to you.’

‘Thank you,’ Esther said, and to Seaton’s surprise, Esther looked, if anything, relieved.

With the door closed behind them, Seaton led them to one of the vertiginous walkways across the lobby which had clusters of low, grey, almost spherical chairs. As soon as the three of them were sitting, Esther asked, ‘Has anyone heard anything?’

‘Not from Anna, as yet,’ Reid said.

‘She’s… your daughter?’ Esther pursed her lips slightly and looked towards Seaton.

‘That’s right,’ Seaton said.

‘We have a few very important questions for you,’ Reid said. ‘Which are… related to Anna’s disappearance.’

‘I’d still like to help,’ Esther said after a moment. ‘Even if she wasn’t really a student or… well, a friend.’

‘Thank you,’ Reid said. ‘I actually wanted to ask you about your secret relationship last year.’ He gave her a steady look. ‘When did Holly Moore find out that you were dating your friend’s father?’

Seaton hadn’t been ready for this question. He was aware that he was now staring at Reid and had to consciously turn towards Esther again. She looked white. Sick. Awful.

‘How did you know?’ Esther asked. And then she looked towards Seaton, desperately. ‘Did he tell you? He told me he’d never, never say anything.’