be it. He splashed his face a few more times, the coolness of the water bringing his temperature down. He turned the tap off, took some paper towels from the dispenser, and wiped his face dry.
Was this it? Was this the one? An investigation he could lose himself within. Screw up his career for good. Let Sarah go for good. He rubbed the bare patch on his ring finger with his right hand.
How long could he really go on like this?
He shoved his still-damp hand in his pocket and left the bathroom, almost running into Rossi as he walked out the door.
‘Sir, you okay?’ she said, the concerned look on her face seeming sincere to Murphy.
‘I’m fine, Laura. I must be coming down with something, that’s all.’
‘Okay, you want me to take you home?’
‘No, I’ll be okay. We need to get cracking now we have a positive ID. Speak to her roommates, track her movements.’
‘Yeah. Look, the parents are distraught; I got hold of that victim support officer, before coming to find you. She’ll be here soon.’
‘Good, good. Let’s get on.’
‘If you’re sure, sir?’
‘I’m fine. Leave it alone. I’ll write up what we’ve got so far, you get names of the roommates.’
Rossi shrugged and walked away. After a moment, Murphy followed, feeling more like himself with every step.
More like the person he’d become in the last few months.
8
Saturday 18th February 2012 11 Months Earlier
Rob paced the living room, back and forth, almost always missing the coffee table as he walked. Shadows shifted across the room, the day darkening as the afternoon came and went.
Had he called them too soon, too early … he didn’t know.
No matter. They’d barely listened. Over eighteen, not even twenty-four hours since she’d gone, call us back if she doesn’t come home tomorrow, blah, blah, blah.
He’d called Carla again, who was becoming a little more concerned, but not all that much.
Her mum hadn’t called.
He walked out of the living room, walking up the stairs and entering the bedroom.
He kicked at the bed, swearing out loud when pain shot through his foot. He slumped down on the bed, facing the door, that side of the bed smelling faintly of her. The scent of the red berry shampoo she used, emanating from the pillow.
He looked at her bedside table and frowned.
He picked up the small charm bracelet, turning it over in his hand. He remembered buying the bracelet for their first Christmas together, promising he’d fill it with more charms to add to the three already placed there. Each one meaning something to both of them.
He rolled one charm in the shape of a dolphin between his fingers. Jemma was obsessed with dolphins. They’d gone to Orlando in Florida a year or so before, and she’d swum with them for half an hour. The uncontrolled joy on her face for weeks afterwards was an incredible sight and Rob didn’t mind the pictures and trinkets they’d had dotted around the house. It made her happy, which in turn made him happy.
He turned over the charm in his hand.
RB ♥ JB
Their surnames began with the same letter. It meant if they got married, it’d still work.
Fate.
Tiny inscription, which he’d paid a lot for. Intricate work, he’d been told.
He’d bought her the charm on their fourth anniversary. She’d cried when he handed her the box. But then, she cried any time she was happy.
Was it an act? Did it really mean as much to her as it did to him?
His heart was pounding in his chest, his hands began to shake, and he struggled back to standing.
He slammed the bracelet down on the bedside table and left the bedroom, jogging down the stairs. He grabbed his car keys, wallet and checked his pocket for his phone and opened the front door.
He’d forgotten somewhere he was supposed to go. Something he was supposed to do.
He wasn’t doing the right things. He needed to make a list.
He pulled the car out, waiting for Jemma’s mum to answer the phone.
‘Helen, it’s Rob, I need you to get around to the house.’
‘Rob slow down. Has she turned up?’
Rob turned the corner at the bottom of the road with one hand on the wheel. ‘No. I’m going to look for her.’
‘I don’t understand, Rob. Maybe we should talk.’
‘We’ll talk later. Just please go to the house just in case. I can’t sit there any more.’
‘Fine. I’ll call in half an hour. But ring me if you hear anything.’
He threw the phone in the passenger seat, driving towards the town centre. Someone needed to be at the house. He shouldn’t leave it empty.
Ten minutes later he drove past Matthew Street, parked the car on double yellow lines, and got out. He walked down North John Street, the top of Liverpool One shopping centre behind, past various takeaways and newsagents. He slowed as he passed the Hard Day’s Night hotel, the Beatles-themed place which was always busy. Up towards Castle Street and back down again. People milled around, sometimes sidestepping him as he walked slowly, purposefully.
He had to be noticed. The place would be crawling with cameras. If he was seen here, it’d seem like he’d gone looking for her at least.
That’s what he was doing.
He walked down Matthew Street, the various bars on either side of the walkway already filling up. A few tourists milling around outside the Cavern Club, getting their pictures taken with the John Lennon statue. For a Saturday evening it was still pretty quiet. The grey paved street not filled with wandering drunks just yet.
He walked further down, towards the club Carla had told him they’d ended the night in. Grim, faceless. Just a garish neon sign outside. The club wasn’t open, so he rapped on the door.
Rob rocked on his heels as he waited. A minute or so went by and he was about to knock again, when the door opened.
‘Yeah?’
A thick-necked, shaven-headed beast of a man stood in the open doorway. Rob took a step back. ‘Hi, were you working here last night?’
‘What’s
