Reckoning Point, стр. 70
Alex breathes out sharply, an exhalation of annoyance and impatience. Time is ticking, something, maybe his detective’s sixth sense, maybe his love for her, tells him that Elian needs him.
While Erik stalks around the front of the property, pushing at the door handle, looking through another window, Alex leans against the iron railing that leads up to the doctor’s house and remembers.
She had climbed down the tree that she had been sheltering in after she had made her escape. Silently she had stood with her back against the trunk of the old, dead, tree and looked at the people who surrounded her. He had run his eyes over her, lingering on the blood that had soaked into the material on her lower belly and that stained her upper legs. He had known then what had been done to her, and he had known he should have rushed to her, taken her in his arms and made her see that he would never, ever, force himself on her like that. He should have shown her the not often seen gentle side of him, for he did have one, and he should have touched her with tenderness and love.
But he hadn’t.
He had hesitated too long, and when he finally did go to her she had seen the angst on his face – had she mistaken it for disgust? – and she had been all tough and businesslike again.
Alex pushes himself off the railing that lines the doctor’s path and stands up straight. He won’t do that again, if they find her this time he will put his arms around her and no matter how much she protests or struggles he won’t let go. He will make her feel his love.
And a sense of urgency hits him with all the force of a sledgehammer.
“Erik, enough, get in this house, right now.”
At the sound of Alex’s tone Erik turns to face him, a quizzical expression on his face. Alex knows how he sounded, for so far this trip in Erik’s company, Alex has been polite and professional. But there is no more time for fucking around. And even though they don’t know what the doctor’s part is in all this, Alex knows that the doctor is the linchpin of these girls, and if anyone can point them in the right direction, it is him.
Alex moves up to the front door, places himself sideways on, and with his right hand he steadies himself on the railing.
Erik realises what Alex is planning to do just as he launches himself off the railing.
“Wait!” he cries, “you can’t do–”
But he has, and Erik lets out a groan as the door gives easily under Alex’s weight. Erik hurries up to stand beside the door that now hangs on one hinge. He grabs at Alex’s arm, goes to speak, but Alex cuts him off.
“Fuck it, Erik, don’t even bother. If you’re not going to help me, call your fucking superior. While we wait for him I’ll going in to look around.”
Erik shrinks back at the fire apparent on both Alex’s face and in his tone. He remembers that fire.
When did it get extinguished in me? he wonders. Was it when I found out about Naomi’s betrayal? And he sees the look on his new friend’s face, the absolute need to find his girl, and he remembers that in himself too. He recalls the utter elation when he’d learned Naomi was alive, not dead as he had understood, it was like all his Christmas’s and birthday’s had come at once, and then, that feeling, it had been dulled, killed dead.
I can’t let this kill me, Erik thinks. I can’t let this baby stuff end me and kill my feelings and emotions dead. There has to be a way through this.
Erik takes a deep breath, closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them he knows they are blazing just like Alex’s are.
“Let’s get in there, then,” he says, roughly and shoving past Alex he marches into the doctor’s home.
They work quietly, neither of them knowing what they are looking for, but by some unspoken agreement both of them move into the doctor’s office and surgery, and between them they rifle through his diary, books and papers.
“This is strange,” says Erik, in his clipped, no-nonsense way, a mannerism he had always possessed, but knows has been missing from his speech in the last few days.
“What? What have you got?” Alex skirts around the desk to peer over his shoulder.
“Just files, patient files, but, just let me …” He flips round, sits on the chair that is meant for patients, and sorts through the papers. Separating them, he lays each file on each woman down on the floor for Alex to see.
Alex crouches down, runs his finger over the name at the top of each paper, as Erik reads them aloud.
“Gabi Rossi, Cilla Holden, Elian Gould …” At the last name Erik looks up at Alex but, the name of the woman that Alex is seeking doesn’t seem to have had an effect. Erik sniffs and looks back down at the papers. “Amber Bente, and–” He stops, straightens up in his chair.
At the sudden silence Alex peers forward, reads aloud himself, “Naomi Wilson.”
“Three of these women are dead, one was left for dead. One is … missing.”
Erik looks at Alex again, and this time he can see that he is fighting with himself at the thought of Elian dead somewhere, just like the others, as yet undiscovered. Put your detective head on, Erik silently implores Alex, like I had to do.
And it is though Alex has heard him, as he leans even closer to the papers he says, “So what do they all have in common?” He