You Will Never Find Me Read Free Page A

walls.
    â€˜What’s your name?’ she asked.
    â€˜
Como te llamas?
’ he said. ‘You ask me:
Como te llamas?
’
    She tried as he sawed his hand over her crotch.
    â€˜
Me llamo Carlos
,’ he said. ‘But nobody calls me that.’
    â€˜What do they call you?’ she asked, her stomach wrestling under the red dress with the persistence of his hand beneath.
    â€˜They call me El Osito,’ he said, his eyes darkening and narrowing to blade points.
    â€˜And what’s an
osito
?’ she asked.
    â€˜It’s a little bear,’ he said, and withdrawing his massive hand from between her legs, held it up to the dim light, ‘
con una pata grande
.’

2

11:30 P.M., S ATURDAY 17 TH M ARCH 2012
Mercy Danquah’s house, Streatham, London
    B ut it’s weird . . . this need she has to justify her actions,’ said Boxer. ‘You wouldn’t have thought she’d bother. “I’m out of here. Don’t come looking for me. Bye.” That’s all it needed.’
    â€˜It’s personal,’ said Mercy shrewdly. ‘Handwritten.’
    They were in the sitting room, Amy’s note on the coffee table between them.
    Boxer leaned forward to reread it without touching it, looking for other levels of meaning, unable to restrain his professionalism. Both of them were used to reading and listening to notes, texts and messages sent by gangs and putting them through a special analysis, but this time there was added parental guilt, anger and denial.
    â€˜She’s being rational and organised. She’s getting her PR in place. She left here, went to the police station and told the desk sergeant he’d recognise me.’
    â€˜When was the last time you were at that police station?’
    â€˜Never been there in my life. She was just winding up the desk sergeant and sticking it to me at the same time. Telling him we’re both coppers so we should feel right at home with each other,’ said Mercy. ‘Did you know she had a driving licence?’
    â€˜No. I asked her if she’d like to learn, thinking I’d pay for some lessons as a birthday present. “And what would I do with a car in London?” she said. “Who’s going to buy me one? Who’s going to insure it?” All in that withering, patronising way of hers. I’m not sure how much of this is to do with us,’ said Boxer, irritated by the defensiveness that even he could hear in his own voice. ‘It’s convenient to blame us: the people who’d had the temerity to bring her into this godforsaken world. And she has a go, as you’d expect . . . but almost as an afterthought. “It bores me being a child, your child.” What’s more striking to me is her despair at the way her life is unfolding. She seems to want to jolt herself out of the predictability, of knowing what’s going to happen tomorrow.’
    â€˜And yet there’s something in that last line that smacks of . . . a challenge.’
    â€˜I’m with you on that. She’s definitely throwing down the gauntlet to us, the professionals, to come looking for her.’
    â€˜And she’s arrogant enough to think we’re not going to hack it.’
    â€˜Do you think there’s part of her that wants to be found?’
    â€˜Why challenge people if you don’t?’ said Mercy.
    â€˜Maybe she just couldn’t resist goading us. She knew, because we’re the people we are, that we were going to be on her case from the moment we saw that note. This is her saying, “You haven’t got a chance.”’
    â€˜Do you think she’s laid down some elaborate smokescreen to make us look like idiots at our own work?’
    The doorbell rang. Mercy left the room and returned with two police officers and an eyebrow raised to Boxer. They were not friendly. The expected professional bond was not there, but