“Good night, Astrid.”
She blinked off, her heart pounding again, her thoughts swirling like blown oak leaves. A crowd of people enveloped Omotoso and he was gone. Astrid felt as if she wanted to embrace Jasmine Atwell, out of fear and pain and confusion.
The round-faced woman with Dawkins and Atwell was staring at her.
Astrid said, to Atwell, “Constable.”
“This is, as you can probably surmise, Una,” said Atwell. “She just walked out. Dunno how. There must be an opening in the main gate somewhere.” Atwell leaned in toward Astrid. “She’s dumb—I mean, she’s a mute. And she’s very worried.”
“I know the feeling,” said Astrid. She felt speechless.
As Astrid recounted the conversation with Omotoso, and explained that she’d been relieved, Atwell nodded slowly, with an open expression, surprisingly unperturbed. It made Astrid feel both warmer toward her and, in another way, suspicious. They remained several meters away from the giant media, police, and zookeeper scrum assembled on the Broad Walk along the eastern edge of the zoo. The air had grown considerably cooler. Astrid herself was beginning to feel queasy and chilled. She wondered if the enterovirus everyone seemed to be moaning about that week had finally infected her.
“Listen,” Atwell was saying. “I’ll drive you home.” Her voice sounded a bit hoarse, and she was chewing something, a lozenge perhaps, in an irritated, rapid manner. “Ma’am, I’m ready to spit tacks, honestly. I’m not being assigned to any of the Bronze teams either, it turns out. It’s a real slap in the face. I know what’s happened with you is so unfair, but, honestly, this was also going to be my big chance. I’ve not once worked a major incident.” She sighed, said, “God damn it.”
“I’m sorry, Constable.” Astrid looked down. “You are as fine a PC as I’ve ever seen. I don’t want to embarrass you now.”
“Aww, thanks, ma’am,” said Atwell. They were quiet for a few seconds. “What should we do? This is just daft.”
The commotion—solarcopters, spotlights, emergency gliders, fotolivers, and the cacophony of the poor animals—had reached such a frenzy, Astrid could barely hear herself think. But when the conviction to do what she did next hit her, she didn’t hesitate.
“I’m going in, Jasmine. This man, this Cuthbert, I need to see him.”
“In? That’s insane. No. You are not going in, ma’am. It’s not worth losing your career over, is it? Astrid? And there are wild animals about, aren’t there?”
“I need to see him.” She gave a forced little chuckle, but she couldn’t sustain a smile. She felt scared. “I think he may be . . . in a way . . . related to me.”
Atwell said, “Oh, dear. You’re off the deep end, you are. Astrid. Do not go in there.”
Astrid looked away from her colleague. She said, in a strained, shuddering voice: “My whole life. As a . . . child . . . and a teenager . . . and then an adult, you understand? From the time I was a little kid. Until now, see? I’ve felt bloody alone in one thing or another, almost always alone. I’ve had it. I’ve had it! I don’t care if what I’m looking for isn’t there or not. He’s come back for me—someone has.”
“Who?”
“That’s what I’m saying. I don’t know. It’s Mr. Handley, perhaps? Or it’s me? But I feel there’s someone in me who’s got to come see him—and to help him. It doesn’t make sense. And the timing’s bad, isn’t it?”
She turned toward the zoo fence and began scaling it. “Don’t stop me,” she said.
“No!” shouted Atwell. “Astrid! Don’t!”