by Carys Jones
Amanda parked by the outer wall, in a distant corner of the car park, in one of the few remaining vacant spaces. Climbing out, she leaned against her car and took in a deep, salty breath.
The police station was on the edge of town, so close to the shoreline that Amanda could hear seagulls roughly calling to one another overhead. They dove through the air like daring stunt pilots.
A sharp wind blew Amanda’s hair into her eyes. She knocked back the platinum strands and smoothed her hands down the khaki shirt dress she was wearing.
The sun had disappeared. It had been blocked out by a curtain of grey cloud which had brought an unseasonal chill to the air. Rain was coming. All the tourists who’d flocked to the Bay in the hope of spending their day at the beach would be sorely disappointed.
Amanda bent her knees and checked her reflection in the side mirror. Her eyes were shrouded in unflattering shadows. She’d barely slept last night. Each time she dared to close her eyes she thought of Will and all the terrible fates that could have befallen him. Every creak outside the window made her heart race as her breath hopefully caught in her chest, every fibre of her being praying that Will’s blue van had just pulled up outside.
She imagined his twisted body on the side of the road somewhere, battered and barely recognizable, his handsome features hidden beneath a mask of dried blood and broken bones. Or she imagined him in the arms of another woman, throwing back his head and callously laughing when he considered how worried his wife must be. Either fantasy was heartbreaking.
Twenty four hours ago Amanda would never have considered that her husband would cheat, would lie to her. Now she was having to accept the possibility that perhaps he would, that perhaps he’d always intended to leave her in such an abrupt way.
‘No,’ Amanda wiped at her eyes and pushed back her shoulders as she straightened up. Will was missing. That was why she was here at the police station. Her husband loved her, he would never willingly leave her.
Holding her head high, Amanda did her best to look poised as she strode across the car park to the double doors, hoping she didn’t look as broken and exhausted as she felt inside.
*
‘Not seen you here for a while,’ Officer John Morris was behind the reception desk. He revealed a toothy smile when he saw Amanda walk in.
‘Hi, John,’ Amanda softly returned the gesture. ‘I mean, Officer Morris,’ she added, cheeks reddening.
‘What can I do for you, Amanda?’ John asked, resting his hands on the portly belly he was growing.
Amanda had known John Morris since she was five and they were both cherub-faced children running around the playground of their infant school. He’d always been big for his age, chubby even in childhood. He had thick black hair and a kind nature. Back in school it had always been John, Amanda and Shane. They’d pretend that they were the three musketeers. They were the best of friends until they turned twelve and then everything changed.
But college reunited the trio. Shane became more than a friend to Amanda but their holy trinity remained strong. It was John who’d tried so fervently to keep the peace later when things started to fall apart between Amanda and Shane.
Glancing around the familiar reception area of the police station, Amanda’s shoulders sagged self-consciously. How many nights had she burst in, face streaked with tears asking where Shane was? John was always on hand to reassure her that he was just out working late, that he’d be home soon.
As the years passed, Amanda stopped turning up at the station, stopped waiting for Shane to come home.
‘Amanda?’ John was gazing at her expectantly. Amanda blinked and gave him an apologetic smile. She saw that there were new lines on his face and some considerable weight poorly concealed beneath his ill-fitting pale blue shirt. She noticed the silver-rimmed glasses which hung down from his neck and wondered how long he’d needed to wear them. How many years had it been since she’d seen John? The fact that Amanda had to dwell on the question proved that it was too many.
‘Sorry,’ she tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling nervous. ‘I’m a bit out of it. How are Daisy and the twins?’
‘They’re monsters,’ John laughed heartily. ‘Well, the twins at least, not Daisy. Tell me we weren’t that bad when we were younger?’
‘I’m pretty sure we were.’
‘Last week Tyler weed on Jackson’s bed. For fun. They are a pair of little tyrants, I tell you.’
‘They sound mischievous. How old are they now? Four?’ Her smile was tight, forced. It was taking all her self control to engage in polite chat when all she wanted to do was scream about how scared she was for her husband.
‘Six.’
‘Six, wow.’
Amanda remembered the night that John had found out he was going to be a father. It was one of the rare occasions that Shane was around. Together, they all sat on the beach and drank beers until the sun came up.
‘I’m scared,’ John had admitted, looking to the friends who he felt he’d known all his life. ‘So much is changing, it freaks me out.’
Shane glanced at Amanda but she couldn’t meet his gaze. It was earlier that day she’d told him to pack his stuff up and move out. The three musketeers were officially disbanding like petals blown from a flower; powerless against the winds of change which blew them from themselves.
‘As much as I’d like to think otherwise, you’ve not come here to catch up with me,’ John leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the reception desk.
‘I… um,’ she cleared her throat and glanced around. Uniformed officers passed through the reception area causing a steady soundtrack of footsteps and swinging doors.
‘Amanda?’ John was frowning at her, looking concerned in the way he always used to do right before she’d start crying about Shane.
‘I need to report a missing person,’ she blurted, taking care to lower her voice.
‘Oh?’ John looked genuinely alarmed.
‘My husband.’ Amanda wilted as she passed the weight of worry over her missing spouse to her former friend.
‘Okay, let’s have some privacy,’ John stood up and reached for some official papers and a pen. ‘Deb, can you watch the desk for me for a minute?’ he shouted over his shoulder.
John took Amanda into an interview room. The stark grey walls were painfully familiar to Amanda as she sat down across the table from John. So many times Shane had led her into such a room to explain away from prying eyes why he was going to be late home again.
‘So your husband is missing?’ John queried carefully. Amanda nodded stiffly and pulled her thoughts back into the moment.
‘Yes, since yesterday morning.’
‘That was when you last saw him?’ John was writing notes as he spoke.
‘Yes.’
‘Was there anything unusual that happened yesterday morning?’
‘No.’
‘Okay.’ More writing. ‘Do you have a photograph? Full name? We’ll need all his details.’
Amanda nodded as she unzipped her handbag and pulled out one of her wedding pictures. She slid it across the small white table towards John. He plucked it up with his plump fingers and smiled at the image.
In it Amanda was holding hands with Will and they were seemingly walking through a meadow. Her free hand was clutching a bouquet of daisies.
‘Wow, you look beautiful,’ John kindly complimented her.
Squirming in her chair, Amanda realized that neither John nor Shane had been invited to her wedding. Barely anyone had been. It had been a small, intimate affair.
‘So this is your husband?’ John pointed at Will who was immaculate in a dark suit, smiling broadly for the camera.
‘Yep, that’s him.’
‘Woah, he’s a real brick shit house of a guy,’ John was still looking at the picture. He drew in a breath and opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it.
Amanda smiled thinly at him. She knew what he’d been about to say; how Will didn’t l
ook like her type. He was the complete opposite of Shane who was slender and wiry with eyes the colour of rain-soaked grass.
‘He didn’t turn up for work yesterday,’ Amanda explained. ‘And his mobile phone is disconnected.’
John’s eyes widened.
‘You guys will find him, right? Now that he’s officially a missing person?’
‘We’ll file the report and do everything that we can,’ John was stating, his tone suddenly formal and no longer friendly.
‘I’m worried sick about him,’ Amanda said pleadingly.
‘I’ll send the report on to the relevant department for you.’
Amanda didn’t feel in any way comforted by his words.
‘We’ll contact you as soon as we hear anything.’
‘Right,’ Amanda started standing up, knowing when she was dismissed.
‘Do you want me to tell him?’ John also stood up, firing the question at Amanda when she was just at the door. She turned back around, but not before releasing a pained sigh.
‘He doesn’t work missing persons, does he?’
The last she’d heard Shane had risen up so high in the ranks of the police force that he was now a DCI on homicide cases, which was exactly what he’d always wanted.
‘No, but he’d want to help,’ John insisted.
‘But he can’t if he’s the wrong department, can he?’ Amanda replied coldly.
‘Well then, let’s hope his department doesn’t get involved,’ John raised his eyebrows at her. Amanda wanted to reach across the distance between them, turn back time and go back to when they were the best of friends, back to when she could crash against his chest and be wrapped in a fond embrace. So much had changed since they were reckless, hopeful teenagers.
‘Just find him,’ Amanda whispered, tears gathering on the ends of her eyelashes. ‘Bring my husband back to me.’
*
‘I’m not sure this was a good idea,’ Amanda turned her cup of coffee in her hands and glanced across the small café table at her mother.
Corrine was draped in a bright red and orange shawl, making her look like a recently risen phoenix. Her curled hair was splayed madly about her head and the heavy purple eye shadow she’d chosen to wear clashed terribly with her outfit. Her dimples were briefly revealed as she threw her daughter a forceful smile.
‘A civilized drink in a boutique café is always a good idea,’ she insisted, her tone firm.
‘Not when my husband is missing,’ Amanda hissed, glancing around at the handful of other patrons who were too busy talking amongst themselves or reading their morning papers to eavesdrop.
‘No, this is exactly when we should be out and about,’ Corrine slapped a bejewelled hand down on to the table, her collection of bangles loudly jangling together. ‘This is a time of crisis, Amanda. And in a time of crisis it’s important to retain a level of civility.’
Amanda stared into her cup of coffee, watching the milk swirl against the darker contents. She remembered sitting in the same café when she was twelve years old, clutching a giant mug of hot chocolate between her hands even though it was a scorching summer’s day outside. Only back then it had been much harder to keep up an air of civility. Amanda had openly bawled her eyes out as stunned onlookers came over to ask if everything was okay.
‘I just want to be at home,’ Amanda groaned. She regretted answering her mother’s call as she’d headed back to her car after reporting Will as missing. The second Corrine discovered that her daughter was in town Amanda could basically hear her firing up the engine of her little car. All Amanda wanted to do was go home and wait by the phone.
‘I’ll be right there,’ she’d blurted, sounding a little too excited. ‘Meet me in that little café you’ve always loved.’
Before Amanda could correct her mother and point out that it was actually Corrine who loved the café, she’d hung up. Amanda had hated the café ever since that day when she was twelve, when her mother had insisted that the world kept turning and that they must be strong.
Corrine had always ridden the wave of despair with grace and elegance, using it as an opportunity to show the world her strength and resolve. Amanda couldn’t be more different. In times of strife she wanted to lock herself away in a dark room and disappear into her beloved virtual world. It was there she’d first gone when her heart had been shattered into a thousand pieces. As she learned more about coding, about websites, algorithms and formulas, she began to heal. And as she healed, she learned about the places online that straddled the fine line between what was legal and what wasn’t. Amanda loved to play jump rope over that line. It made her heart beat faster, made it feel almost whole again to know she was dicing with danger.
‘How did it go?’ Corrine enquired gingerly as she raised her dainty porcelain cup of tea up to her lips. She sounded as though she were asking about the weather or a holiday Amanda had just been on.
‘John was there.’
‘John Morris?’ Corrine’s eyes widened with delight. ‘He was always such a kind boy. Too greedy for his own good, but so kind.’
‘Yeah, he said he’d file the report for me.’
‘And Shane?’ Corrine stared directly at her daughter, unflinching.
‘Shane?’ Amanda spluttered out the name.
‘Did you see him too? I heard that he’s a detective now, most impressive.’
Amanda ground her teeth together and bit back tears. ‘No, I didn’t see Shane,’ she seethed. ‘He works homicide, Mum, not missing persons. Besides, why the hell are you even asking about my ex-boyfriend when it’s my husband who is missing?’
‘Don’t get tetchy with me,’ Corrine warned, lowering her tea. ‘I was merely asking. Shane has always adored you, I’m sure he’d help you find Will if you asked him to.’
‘You’d love that,’ Amanda pouted, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest.
‘Yes, I would,’ Corrine admitted honestly. ‘I think you were wrong to banish Shane from your life.’
‘God,’ Amanda rolled her eyes. Surely her mother wasn’t picking such an inappropriate moment to once again cheer for Shane’s side. Ever since Amanda had thrown him out of her apartment Corrine had been doing her best to initiate a reunion between the young couple. She clung to a naïve hope that first love could still be the greatest love of all, as her own had been, even in the wake of Amanda’s marriage to Will. But then Corrine didn’t realize how terribly things had soured between her daughter and Shane. How could she? To most people in Tremwell Bay they were the perfect couple; childhood sweethearts who’d developed into something more, something substantial. Everyone expected them to go the distance, to get married on the beach where they loved to sit and read their books together on lazy Sunday mornings.
‘I don’t want to talk about bloody Shane,’ Amanda raged. Even saying his name was making her agitated. She should be thinking about Will, only Will. Her husband still hadn’t come home and she had no idea what, or who, could be keeping him away from her.
‘Do you want to find your husband?’ Corrine demanded, her gaze unblinking and penetrating.
‘Of course,’ Amanda blurted. ‘What sort of a question is that?’
‘Because if you want to find him you need to use every weapon at your disposal. And like it or not, that includes Shane. He’s one of the brightest minds in the Police Department. Couple that with how much he’s always cared about you and he’s the sort of ally you want on your side at a time like this.’
Amanda was shaking her head. The last time she’d seen Shane had been in Tesco’s a few months after the incident with Will. She’d accidently bumped into him, literally, during a late-night shop for some essentials. With their trollies between them like a barrier, they’d locked eyes. Amanda was about to say something when Jayne Richards slinked up to Shane and looped her arm into his. Her fire-red bob shone brightly beneath the supermarket lights. She smiled contemptuously at Amanda, stroking Shane’s arm as though she were the victor
in some war Amanda hadn’t even known she was fighting in. Jayne Richards had bullied Amanda in school. She’d labelled her chest an ironing board and called her a loser with such regularity that Amanda had started to believe it.
Making her excuses Amanda grabbed her trolley and turned around, hurrying away from the couple before they had chance to saying anything else.
‘I’m not calling Shane,’ Amanda told her mother resolutely.
‘Suit yourself,’ Corrine shrugged. ‘But I really think you should.’
*
Amanda watched the clock on the front room wall tick over to nine p.m. On her lap her dinner of a microwaved lasagne lay untouched. She couldn’t eat. She also couldn’t watch TV or do any of her work. She was living on a knife-edge of anticipation, knowing that at any moment the phone might go and it would be Will calling to tell her he was coming home. Or worse; it would be the police telling her that they’d found him.
Picking up her mobile phone, Amanda started scrolling through her contact list. She’d already called Will fifty times that day. Each time it was the same automated message which greeted her. Mike had left a message on the house phone. He was worried since Will still wasn’t in work. Amanda didn’t have the heart to call him. Besides, news that Will was officially a missing person would have surely circulated through the Bay by now. People in Tremwell kept secrets as well as they kept colds.
‘Damn,’ Amanda sighed as she dwelled on Shane’s number. She’d not called it in years, yet for some reason she had never deleted his details, even though she probably should have. If Will knew that Shane’s name was still in her phone he’d be furious. Maybe the number wasn’t even current anymore. But Amanda knew that if he’d changed it she’d know. It was a tenuous link to keep each other’s numbers but one they’d both adhered to over the years. She stared at Shane’s name as nine became quarter past. Each ticking echoed the steady, nervous beating of her heart. She hated to admit that her mother was right. Shane Perton was the best detective on the force. If anyone could find Will it was him.
