The Weekend Away - Sarah Alderson Page 0,44

and Emanuel’s Instagram to see if they’ve posted anything since last night, something that might either reveal where they are, or by some miracle show them hanging out with Kate, but neither one has posted since yesterday.

By eight o’clock we’re parked outside the police station. Konstandin asks if I want him to come in with me but I say no. It feels weird, like they might wonder or ask questions about our relationship and question who Konstandin is, and I don’t know how to explain it so I tell him he doesn’t need to wait for me but he shrugs me off and pulls out his cigarette packet. I stare at it longingly for a moment and he offers me one. I shake my head and walk inside.

The detective I spoke to yesterday, Nunes, isn’t in so I end up telling the whole story to another person, an older woman, also a detective. The sign on her desk says Reza. She’s about my age I’m guessing, though possibly younger – it’s hard to tell. She isn’t wearing any make-up, except for a bright red slash of lipstick that only seems to emphasise how thin her lips are, and her hair is pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck. Overall the effect is severe. She isn’t wearing a uniform but an ill-fitting black suit.

Now I watch, frustrated, as she carefully and slowly fills in the missing person form. When she’s done she tells me she’ll circulate the information to all the hospitals and every police officer in the city so they know to keep an eye out for her.

‘That’s it?’ I ask her when she puts down her pen.

‘Was your friend depressed or having suicidal thoughts?’

‘What?’ I say, aghast. ‘No, of course not. She was totally fine.’ Why is she asking me that? ‘What about the men who came back with us to the apartment?’ I press, frustrated. ‘Don’t you want to interview them? I gave you their names. You could call them.’

‘We’ll look into it,’ she says, her English fluent.

‘What does that mean?’ I ask, frustrated. Why isn’t she taking this seriously? It’s a missing person!

I wonder if I should mention the fact Joaquim and Emanuel are escorts. The thing is I’m not sure prostitution is legal in Portugal and I’m pretty certain that solicitation isn’t. It’s the same reason I don’t mention the drugs either. I know as soon as I do the police will make an assumption about Kate. It looks bad on paper and it might make them less inclined to prioritise her case. I know how these things work. But I’ll be lying if I also keep it to myself, as I don’t want them to search the apartment and find her stash of coke. I should have flushed it down the toilet. I don’t repeat my concerns either about potentially having been drugged and raped. There’s no way I can prove any of it and the detective yesterday seemed so dismissive it puts me off telling this woman. I feel like all I am is a nuisance to them.

‘I said we will look into it,’ she replies calmly.

I’m not sure I believe her.

‘Your colleague, Detective Nunes, he told me yesterday he would check the hospitals. Do you know if he did?’

She frowns and taps at the computer. ‘You spoke to Detective Nunes?’

I nod. ‘Yes.’

Reza scans the computer. ‘But you didn’t file a report with him?’

‘He said I needed to wait twenty-four hours to file a missing person’s report.’

She nods.

‘But do you know if he called the hospitals?’ I press.

‘I’ll find out,’ she says.

Reza stands up and I wonder if she’s going to do that right then but no, she ushers me to the door, a sign that she’s done with me.

‘But …’ I stammer as I get to my feet. ‘Something’s happened to her.’

‘How do you know?’ she asks, staring at me as though I know something that I’m not revealing. I struggle to look innocent. ‘Did you have a fight before she disappeared? Is there something you aren’t telling me?’

My cheeks flame. I shake my head.

She narrows her eyes at me. My pulse speeds up and a cold sweat breaks out all over my body. At the same time a memory that’s as sharp as a blade slices through my mind. Kate screaming ‘bitch!’

It hits me with the force of flying shrapnel, almost knocking me backwards. I can’t picture it. I can only hear her voice screaming it at me.

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