‘You should give the letter to the Old Bill, Michael, they might find a fingerprint or something.’
Michael looked at his old friend as if he had never seen him before. ‘Oh, stop it, Declan. This isn’t CSI, for fuck’s sake. Gil Grissom isn’t going to miraculously find the cunt’s name out before the sixty minutes is up. You and I both know that’s a fucking big stretch for anyone’s imagination. Most people’s fingerprints aren’t on any database, unless you’ve been nicked, and DNA takes weeks to process. Even then they can only match it with a name if they happen to have the fucker’s DNA there to start with. Can’t see that, can you?’
‘I just think you should use whatever you can, Michael.’
Michael shook his head sadly. ‘All I can do now is wait until the bastard contacts me again.’
Chapter One Hundred
and Fourteen
Michael had rung the number from the letter over and over again. Nothing. It was a waste of his time, but he couldn’t stop himself. The phone didn’t even fucking ring; it was probably a cheap throwaway. He couldn’t understand why the person involved didn’t seem bothered about making contact with him. If this had been a shake-down, a call for cash, then he would have heard something long before now. Michael felt sick with apprehension. There wasn’t anyone he could think of with the guts to do something like this to him; he was too big, too respected for anyone to think they could dare get away with something like this. But he couldn’t find out a fucking thing – even the police were stumped. He just sat in his home, waiting for a call, for another letter to be delivered, anything at all that might lead him to his daughter.
Jake bowled into the room, all smiley-faced. He smelt clean, and his sturdy little body looked bigger than ever. Michael ruffled his hair, pleased to see him, proud of the boy.
‘Hello, Granddad! I’ve been learning my seven times table.’
Michael laughed at his grandson’s complete enjoyment of his little life.
‘Have you now! Very important, you know, learning your times tables.’
Jake nodded in absolute agreement. ‘I know that, Granddad! Dana reckons it’s what sorts the men from the boys!’
Dana laughed at his words. She was already making Jake’s breakfast, and Michael laughed with her.
‘Well, Dana knows about these things, Jake, so listen to her.’
Jake was pleased to hear his granddad sound happy. Jake hated the tension in the house. His nana was very sad, she didn’t seem like her usual self. His nana had fallen out with his granddad, he had heard them shouting at each other. It was very worrying – other than Dana they were all he had in the world. He hadn’t seen his mum for a long time and he was feeling very anxious about her too.
Dana placed his porridge on the table before him, and he started to eat it slowly. He liked it with honey and sugar, and Dana always made it perfectly for him.
Dana was leaning against the fridge, drinking a cup of coffee. She looked at Michael and, raising her eyebrows, she asked carefully, ‘Any news?’
Michael shook his head sadly. ‘No. Nothing. Not a dicky-bird.’
Jake listened to the talk between them, and he knew that they were talking about his mummy. He had heard enough to work out that she was in some kind of trouble. But then his mummy was always having some kind of problem. It wasn’t anything unusual for her. Her whole life was one problem after another. His nana always seemed to think that was the case anyway. She always said to Dana, that her Jessie attracted trouble like other people contracted a rash. It was there before you knew it and it itched until it was scratched raw.
‘You get yourself off to school, Jake. Have a good day, son.’
Jake liked it when his granddad called him ‘son’. He finished his porridge quickly.
‘I’ve got to take my drawing in, Granddad. It’s a picture of me, you, Dana and Nana. We had to draw our family. It’s going on the wall for our Communion. I drew us all in the garden. Even Nana!’ He laughed, and Michael laughed with him, even though he was sad to think that the child knew, as young as he was, that his nana didn’t use the garden, and also sad to think he had left his mother out of the equation.
‘That sounds lovely. Nana would be pleased to know you’ve drawn a picture of her.’
Jake shrugged, a childish shrug that was as honest as it was natural. ‘I suppose so, Granddad. But she won’t see me, you know. Even though I’ve been a good boy.’
Michael was sorry to the heart for his grandson’s predicament. Josephine forgot that her lifestyle affected everyone around her, little Jake especially. Her living in a fucking bubble when her daughter was missing just proved to him how selfish she really was.
‘Your nana is not very well, Jake.’
Jake got off his chair slowly, and smiling at his Granddad, he said with false gaiety, ‘Dana told me already. I know that she’s not well. Nana’s never well.’
Chapter One Hundred