‘But I need to see him.’
‘He can’t come down at the moment,’ said Emily. She always had to suppress her natural inclination to preface any such statement with the words ‘I’m sorry but …’ Drunks, fools, and almost all men seemed to think it implied that she was somehow to blame. Life was much simpler when she was a bit ruder, even if it didn’t come naturally to her.
‘I have to see him,’ Anna Buck said firmly. ‘I might have important information for him.’
‘About a dog?’
‘Yes, but …’ She looked uncertain for a moment, then visibly stiffened her resolve. ‘Yes.’
‘He told me he’d said all he needed to on the case.’
Anna nodded slowly. Then said, ‘I’m not leaving till I see him.’
If Emily had had a penny for every time somebody told her that, she’d be sunning herself on a beach somewhere right this moment. People who said it usually stomped back to the benches and crossed their arms angrily, then waited for her to go off shift, or leave the window to fetch a form, before taking the opportunity to slink away without her seeing them go.
But Anna Buck didn’t go and sit down and cross her arms. Anna Buck pulled a photograph from the pocket of her big blue anorak and pressed it against the glass to show Emily.
‘Do you see this photo?’
Emily looked at the photo of a tubby blonde and a small poodle.
‘Yes.’
‘There’s something in this photo. There’s something in this photo that’s getting inside my head and telling me things. Showing me things.’
Crazy! I knew she was crazy!
‘I know it sounds crazy,’ said the woman, making Emily blink with exposure. ‘I know that. But I lost my son and this woman lost her dog and all I want to do is to help her find it again, do you understand? Because of my son. He went missing in November and if I can help her, then maybe somebody somewhere will help me. Find Daniel. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Emily nodded. She couldn’t help herself, because the tears starting to gather on the woman’s lower lids and lashes spoke the truth about her son.
‘So please can you tell him that? Please can you let him know that I’m only here to try to help? I’m not asking for money or anything. I only want to help her get her dog back, because of Daniel.’
Emily hesitated. ‘I’m just not sure you have the right officer—’
‘I do!’ said Mrs Buck. ‘He left a message on my phone. About the dog. Her name is Mitzi. You ask him. Please just ask him!’
Emily hesitated. The woman seemed crazy, but there was something about her story that wasn’t. She wondered what it was and realized it was the name of the dog.
Mitzi.
Who the hell had a delusion so intricate and so ridiculous that they named a dog Mitzi? That just didn’t seem likely to Emily Aguda, and if it didn’t seem likely to her, then it was probably not true.
She stared up one last time at the photograph of the woman and the dog, and then decided. ‘Hold on just a moment, Mrs Buck.’
She picked up the phone and dialled G Team again. She flirted with Colin Brady again; she got Marvel on the line again.
‘Sir, I’m sorry to trouble you again, but Mrs Buck seems very insistent that she can help you find …’ here Emily lowered her voice so as not to embarrass DCI Marvel, ‘… a lost dog?’
In the face of Marvel’s silence, Emily lowered her voice even further. ‘Called Mitzi?’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ Marvel shouted in her ear.
Emily tightened her lips and her backbone. ‘Sir, the lady’s becoming quite—’ She had been going to say ‘agitated’. But as she spoke, Emily glanced through the window at Mrs Buck and her eyes widened in alarm. ‘Sir,’ she said firmly, ‘I think you should come down here right now.’
Then she hung up on him.
It’s all circles.
The voice spoke quite clearly and Anna flinched and turned to see who was behind her at the window.
There was nobody. She looked back at the desk officer on the phone and could no longer hear her speaking, although she could see her mouth moving, very, very slowly.
She looked at the photo in her hand. Sandra’s dark roots, the contented little dog, the big rosette.
It’s all circles.
The voice was in her head. It wasn’t her voice, or even her thought. For some reason, that didn’t bother her.
She tried to tap the window to ask the WPC whether she could hear it too. But she never raised her arm, never made a fist, never knocked on the glass, never opened her mouth – because it was full of circles, and so was her head.
Circles and circles and circles.
The young woman behind the counter was staring at her now, and hanging up the phone, and Anna tried to reassure her that it was all circles and everything was OK, because everything was endless and it would all begin again.
The officer’s eyes widened as, very slowly and deliberately, Anna backed a couple of steps away from the window and drew a big, slow loop in the air, using her whole arm to do it. A little part of her felt foolish, but she had to do it, because everything was circles and that was important.
She turned slightly and drew another full round and felt better again.
So she turned and drew another one, this time facing the benches and the buggy and the baby.
Circles and circles and wonderful circles.
With each circle she drew in the air, Anna felt better.
Everything was better because of circles. How had she not seen this before? How had she missed it? It was right there in front of her eyes! The very act of making the circles was liberating; she wished everybody could share it, and she smiled to encourage the other people on the benches, but she couldn’t speak to them because she was in a joyous bubble of turning and circles and turning and circles.