The next evening, Adam came back to the halls in time for supper, his face stern, preoccupied. Before he even spoke, Christopher knew something was wrong.
‘Christopher, man,’ he said. ‘Sophie’s missing. I just bumped into Alison. Well I met her for lunch, actually, in the refec, and she told me Sophie never came home last night.’
Christopher had been about to go over to the canteen but instead sat on his bed. ‘Oh dear,’ he said, and then, ‘I’m sure it’s all right. The others said she’s a bit of a one. Perhaps she’s shacked up with someone?’ He hoped that was the correct term. It sounded rather derogatory.
Adam came to sit on the side of his bed opposite Christopher. He put his thumb to his teeth and tore off a strip of nail. ‘Aye, I know, but she was supposed to be meeting me and her friends knew she was meeting me and now she’s gone AWOL.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Well, with this lunatic on the streets, I’m worried something bad’s happened.’
Christopher thought for a second. He could not deny this was a possibility. It was, quite simply, not safe out, and by all accounts Sophie was foolish, arrogant and brazen. He did not say this to Adam.
‘Look, it’s not even been twenty-four hours,’ he said instead.
Adam had begun to scratch his head, had hooked his bottom teeth over his top lip. ‘Aye, man, I know, but what if they come to me? The police? The girls have told them she was meant to be meeting me, so I’ll be the first person they question, won’t I? What am I going to say?’
‘What do you mean, say? Just tell them the truth.’
‘But that won’t wash, will it? They’re questioning blokes left, right and centre. I was supposed to be meeting her and now she’s not turned up and I have no alibi. No alibi at all. And if something bad has happened to her… Fuck… I’m in deep shit.’
‘I’ll be your alibi.’
Adam stopped scratching and looked at Christopher. ‘What?’
‘I’ll say I was with you. You’re my friend. That’s what friends do.’
‘But you can’t do that. I can’t let you do that, man.’
‘Why not? It’s not as if anyone will have noticed me in the library, is it? I didn’t check any books out, so there’s no record of me even being there.’
‘You’d do that?’
‘Yes. Call it the big advantage of my complete lack of charisma.’ It was supposed to be a joke, but Adam did not even smile. ‘Look, I know you didn’t do anything to Sophie,’ he went on. ‘You never would. Besides, she’ll be fine. She’ll turn up tonight, you’ll see. And her friends will be jolly cross with her.’ He stood. ‘Let’s go and get something to eat. You can tell me where we were and at what time, what we drank. I’ll remember. I have a very good memory.’
Adam stood and shook his head. His face, his shoulders, the whole set of his body relaxed.
‘What can I say?’ he said, and threw out his arms. ‘You’re a true mate.’
Christopher knew what that meant and what to do. He too threw out his arms and hugged his friend.
* * *
The next day, Wednesday, Adam did not return to the halls. No one had seen him. The day after that, Christopher came back from his morning trip to the bathroom to find two policemen in his bedroom.
‘Can I help you?’ He pulled his dressing gown tighter around him and knotted the belt. It was odd, he said, how guilty the sight of police uniforms made you feel.
The taller of the two introduced himself and his colleague. Normally Christopher has a pretty photographic memory, but he could not remember either of their names when he came to tell me all this.
‘Are you Christopher Harris?’ said the taller of the two. He had a moustache not unlike David’s.
‘Yes.’
‘And you share this room with Adam Wells?’
‘Yes. Is he all right? He didn’t come back last night. I was getting worried.’
The policeman nodded. ‘Adam’s fine, don’t you worry. He’s helping us with our enquiries. We need to ask you a few questions as regards your whereabouts on the evening of Monday, 3 April. Can you tell us where you were between the hours of 8 p.m. and midnight?’
‘Of course. I was in the Skyrack with Adam. We wandered along there together from here after dinner and had a pint. That would have been around eight-ish, I think. I bought the drinks. I wasn’t supposed to be staying because he was meeting a girl, but she didn’t turn up. So we caught the bus into town.’
‘What was the girl’s name?’
‘Sophie. Is this to do with her? Is she still missing?’
‘And which bus was that?’
‘The twenty-eight, I think.’
‘And how do you know Sophie is missing?’
‘A friend of mine told me on Tuesday she’d not come back the night before, but I assumed she’d have turned up by now.’
‘And where did you go after the Skyrack, Mr Harris?’
‘We went to the Union and stayed there until they closed. We were quite sloshed actually. Then we went for chips and ate them walking home. We must have got back here at about midnight, give or take. Listen – is Adam OK? He would never hurt anyone, you know.’
The policeman smiled, though not in a friendly way. ‘And is there anyone who can corroborate your story?’
‘I’m pretty sure the barmaid at the Skyrack would. We either go there or the Original Oak opposite, so she would know our faces. Is there anything else I can help you with? You’ve not found her, have you, Sophie?’
‘Thank you, Mr Harris. You’ve been most helpful.’
When Christopher relayed this conversation to me later, I remember remarking on how easily he’d lied and how implicitly he’d trusted his friend. But, he said, he saw no reason not to lie, to trust.
‘I just knew he was innocent,’ he said. ‘And sometimes you need lies, don’t you, to protect the people you love?’
* * *
That night, Adam was still at the police station. The next day, Thursday, a grim and familiar buzz went round the Leeds campus. He had struck again. In the Union shop, the newspapers shouted their headlines: Woman’s Body Found in Headingley. A student this time – a Leeds University student. It had to be Sophie. The front pages sickened Christopher to his stomach, made him feel anxious to his core. The very air was thick with talk and terror. Female students wept, huddled together, held hands. Christopher bought The Guardian, the Mirror and The Telegraph. Back in his room, he cut out the articles and glued them into his scrapbook with the others. The scrapbook was getting thick. He might even need another.
On Saturday morning, he was about to head out to the library when, head down, shoulders low, Adam plodded into the bedroom. How different this Adam was to the cocksure lad who had come bounding in that first day.
‘I owe you my life, man.’ He sat on his bed and put his head in his hands. For a moment he said nothing, and it was only when a gasp escaped him that Christopher realised he was weeping. He dropped his canvas satchel and went to sit next to his friend.