Reckoning Point, стр. 28
Now she looks resigned and Bram is almost panicking. He must get this girl back here, and he knows how crazy that is; after all he sees beautiful young women all the time, but this girl … oh, this girl.
“I can help you,” he says. “I will help you.”
The conviction in his tone must be apparent, as she smiles. Nervously, and with trepidation, but all the same it is there. A smile. She smiles at him.
She relaxes a little; he sees her shoulders and indeed her whole upper body seem to sit more comfortably in the chair. He doesn’t ask her anything further about what happened to her; instead he questions her on her general health, fitness and exercise habits. From this he learns that she is currently living beachside in Schev, and he thinks back to where he was yesterday afternoon, not far from her home at all. Something stirs in him that he hasn’t felt for years and he crosses his legs uncomfortably.
It seems she did relax at his conversation, because now she sits up, speaks with a tone he can only identify as hope.
“I think I need the other tests, the ones … the ones you give the other girls.”
It’s like a slap in the face and he rearranges his expression to ensure his sudden distaste doesn’t show. “We can do those right now,” he states, moving across to get the swabs and needles, anything to get out of her line of sight so he can recover himself.
Silently he draws blood and wordlessly he leads her over to the bed to swab her. In the silence he watches her chest rise and fall and he works quickly, wanting to get her back in the chair and talking to him again, without this unnecessary unpleasantness.
“When can I expect to hear from you? About the scan, I mean. And what about payment, I have the means to pay, but do I pay you or the hospital?” she asks when she is dressed and seated.
He takes a chance, acts on instinct and reaching across the desk he pats her hand. He is delighted when she doesn’t immediately pull away. “That can all be sorted at a later date. Money is not of importance here.” He wants to add ‘you are’ on the end of his sentence but refrains.
Scribbling on a piece of paper he slips it across to her. “That’s my office number. Can I take your contact details?”
“I don’t have a phone, yet,” she replies as she folds up the piece of paper and puts it in her pocket.
“Then in two or three days you shall telephone me here, or call on me. I should have an appointment for you, my dear,” he pauses, looks at her again. “Will you do that, dear?”
She nods, picks up her bag and with a half-wave leaves his office. He watches her go, his eyes linger on the gentle sway of her hips and the way she carries her upper body; tight and tense. It’s such a juxtapose he finds it utterly fascinating.
Bram waits until he hears the outer door close before letting out his breath. He thinks back on their closing words, wonders anxiously if he sounded too eager. The last thing he wants to do is scare her, this lovely, emerald-eyed girl. And the additional tests she asked for, well, it is only natural, really. She’s a young woman, just taking care of herself, he should be praising her for her forward thinking, not biting against the torrid thought of her screwing some nameless, faceless youth. He’s sure she doesn’t do that, anyway. She seemed too … precious to be promiscuous.
He is smiling as he lifts himself out of his chair and moves to lock his door, but his gaze falls on the report that he has left on his desk. With the unexpected delight that came calling, he had forgotten about the report.
His smile fades. Real life beckons and he still has work to do.
26
ERIK FONS
HOOFDBUREAU
6.7.15 Afternoon
Erik skims through the report on the latest murdered girl. As he reads he compares it to the report on Gabi Rossi. Apart from them both working in the same RLD, frustratingly he can find no other similarities. They talked to each other, but that’s not uncommon. All of the regular girls know who each other are. Or who each other were, he thinks with a grimace. He wishes Naomi was home, although unethical he would run through this with her, after all, she knows these girls, she knows their lives. She would know what to do, where to start.
He rubs at his temples; a headache is starting to form and when his phone rings he snatches it up, snaps a greeting into the receiver.
“Hello, is this Erik Fons?”
“Yes,” replies Erik. “Who is this?”
“My name is Alex Harvey, I work alongside the MET police in London. I’m searching for a missing person, a young woman called Elian Gould. Mr Fons, have you seen or heard anything about her?”
Erik, his head filled with the dozens of girls he has been interviewing over the last few days, scratches his head. “I don’t think so, is she a working girl?”
There’s a short pause on the line, and then, “What?”
“Does she work the RLD?” Erik clicks his tongue impatiently. “The red light district?”
“God, no,” the voice on the other end of the phone is aghast. “No, absolutely not. Why?”
Erik shakes his head in despair. “That’s what I’m working on, the RLD murders. I presumed you were calling with regards to that. Sorry, why are you calling me?”
“I’m searching for a missing person, a young woman. I’ve been