Sister: A Novel Read Free Page A

Again trying to feel irritated.
    DS Finborough paused a moment, thinking of the right way to phrase it. His manner was considerate. ‘So you think her disappearance is not voluntary?’ he asked.
    ‘Not voluntary.’ Gentle words for something violent. In that first meeting no one said the word ‘abduction’, or ‘murder’. A silent understanding had been reached between DS Finborough and me. I appreciated his tact; it was too soon to name it. I forced out my question. ‘My mother told me she’d been getting nuisance calls?’
    ‘According to her landlord, yes, she has. Unfortunately she hadn’t given him any details. Has Tess told you anything about them?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘And she didn’t say anything to you about feeling frightened or threatened?’ he asked.
    ‘No. Nothing like that. She was normal; happy.’ I had my own question. ‘Have you checked all the hospitals?’ As I asked it, I heard the rudeness and implicit criticism. ‘I just thought she might have gone into labour early.’
    DS Finborough put his coffee down, the sound made me jump.
    ‘We didn’t know she was pregnant.’
    Suddenly there was a lifebuoy and I swam for it. ‘If she’d gone into labour early, she could be in hospital. You wouldn’t have checked the maternity wards, would you?’
    ‘We ask hospitals to check all their in-patients, which would include maternity,’ he replied and the lifebuoy slipped away.
    ‘When’s the baby due?’ he asked.
    ‘In just under three weeks.’
    ‘Do you know who the father is?’
    ‘Yes. Emilio Codi. He’s a tutor at her art college.’
    I didn’t pause, not for a heartbeat. The time for discretion was over. DS Finborough didn’t show any surprise, but then maybe that’s part of police training.
    ‘I went to the art college—’ he began, but I interrupted. The smell of coffee in his Styrofoam cup had become nauseatingly strong.
    ‘You must be very worried about her.’
    ‘I like to be thorough.’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    I didn’t want DS Finborough to think me hysterical, but reasonable and intelligent. I remember thinking it shouldn’t matter what he thought of me. Later I would discover that it mattered a great deal.
    ‘I met Mr Codi,’ said DS Finborough. ‘He didn’t say anything about his relationship with Tess, other than as a former student.’
    Emilio still disowned you, even when you were missing. I’m sorry. But that’s what his ‘discretion’ always was - disownership hiding behind a more acceptable noun.
    ‘Do you know why Mr Codi wouldn’t want us to know about their relationship?’ he asked.
    I knew it all too well. ‘The college doesn’t allow tutors to have sex with their students. He’s also married. He made Tess take a “sabbatical” when the bump started to show.’
    DS Finborough stood up; his manner had shifted up a gear, more policeman now than Oxbridge don. ‘There’s a local news programme we sometimes use for missing people. I want to do a televised reconstruction of her last known movements.’

    Outside the metal-framed window a bird sang. I remembered your voice, so vividly that it was like you were in the room with me:

    ‘In some cities birds can’t hear each other any more above the noise. After a while they forget the complexity and beauty of each other’s song.’
    ‘What on earth’s that got to do with me and Todd?’ I asked.
    ‘Some have given up birdsong altogether, and faultlessly imitate car alarms.’
    My voice was annoyed and impatient. ‘Tess.’
    ‘Can Todd hear your song?’

    At the time I dismissed your student intensity of emotion as something I’d grown out of years before. But in that police room I remembered our conversation again, because thoughts about birdsong, about Todd, about anything, was an escape from the implications of what was happening. DS Finborough sensed my distress. ‘I think it’s better to err on the side of caution. Especially now I know she’s pregnant.’

    He issued