Excerpt: Chapter 1
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“You really think you can find her?”
The woman sitting across from him was distraught, as most were when they
came to him for help. Her daughter, Jani, was Autistic – and missing. Her
mother was certain the girl would be lost and afraid without her. Elyan
Robert Moore knew that likely wasn't the case.
Running a hand through messy brown waves as he thought over his next
words, Elyan offered what he could only hope was a reassuring smile.
“You've given me more than enough information, Miss Grant,” he began
carefully, “I've found people with far less to go on."
What he didn't tell her was how he often found those people. He didn't tell
her that her daughter had likely run away. He didn't tell her that she would
either find her daughter unwilling to return home, or dead. He didn't tell her
that wringing her hands and crying about how 'special' and 'helpless' her
daughter was had likely been half of the reason she ran away.
Instead, he told her to contact him in a week for any progress he might have
made, then bade her farewell with a shake of the hand and another forced
smile.
So. Another write-off. Nothing unusual, nothing particularly special.
Elyan's smile fell through to something far more weary as Cathy Grant left
the room, burying his face in his hands for a moment. He'd vowed to help
those the police had failed and he was going to help her, but just once it
would have been nice to speak to someone who had actually contacted the
police first.
“At least these cases are over quickly.” The gentle clink of a teacup being
rested on his desk lifted him from his thoughts, accompanied by the curt but
concerned lilt of his younger sister Lydia, and he matched the grim half-smile she held.
“Aye,” he muttered, thankfully sipping at the perfectly lukewarm-but-strong
tea she always made so well. “No less stressful, though.”
“And no closer to Josh.” The disappointment in her voice wasn't aimed at
him and he knew it, but he couldn't help the twinge of guilt in his chest as
he watched her gently peek a curtain open – not too much, just enough that
at least she could see in here.
It had been a long time since they'd left Scotland. Five years, to be exact. It
was Lydia's idea, but Ely knew it was taking as much out of her that it was
him; perhaps even more. Wide-eyed hope and young passion had become
bitter and cynical but they couldn't turn back now. Not when they'd
travelled so far and sacrificed so much to this.
“Any new contracts coming in?” he wondered, knowing the answer before
she gave it.
"Nope."
"Then we should move on, when I'm done with Grant."
“Aye.” That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter, flicking
through the files in one of his open drawers as if it at all interested her,
before re-piling a mess of papers on his desk and patting him on the
shoulder. “C'mon,” she insisted, “I've got to train and you've got to get out
of this room more than once a year. Cathy can wait. Have you showered
today? Meds? Go do. I'll be outside.”
Knowing full well he couldn't argue with her when she got into an 'arses-ingear' mood, Elyan gave a reluctant huff, signalling her to wait a moment
while he at least set up the most automated of his processes. He would need
to scan through social media for matches to the photographs of Jani he’d
been given, and one of the few laptops in his study were reserved entirely
for that purpose. From there he could expand the scan to local security
cameras and camera phones. It was a lengthy and power-consuming
process, especially with only a laptop to perform it on, but for simple cases
like runaways it could still prove fruitful.
That done, he took another moment to breathe and drink his tea before
finally passing Lydia to leave the office, bowing in a sweeping, sarcastic
motion as he went. Rolling her eyes, Lydia followed after him, making sure
he was actually going to shower and eat and take his medication before she
headed out to the garden.
He joined her there a little later, watching from the back door as she beat so
many colours out of their punching bag that he was certain it might fade to
grey in front of his eyes. It was good fortune that they’d even managed to
rent a place with a garden this time – usually Lydia had to make do with the
bedroom and he could barely stand the thumping sound it would resonate
through the house. Still, he supposed, a resigned melancholy touching his
chest: they would be moving soon. The chances of getting this lucky again
were slim to none.
Brushing that thought aside for now, he cast his gaze cautiously around the
place (grateful for the high fences blocking them from the neighbours’
view. He couldn’t stand knowing anyone could watch them at any time)
before stepping out to greet Lydia; having to squint and shield his eyes from
the bright midday sun. Bare feet padding on dry grass he stood just out of
reach of her swings, noting with a pinch of his brow how each punch landed
with an increasingly frustrated grunt that slowly grew to full-on cries of
rage – before she seemingly noticed Elyan standing there and landed a final,
half-hearted punch with a huff.
"Want to talk about it?"
Lydia stared at the punching bag for a moment, watching it swing from the
force of her onslaught with brown eyes glittering in near-accusation.
“...No,” she grunted as it slowed, turning to face him at last and raising her
fists in a playful challenge. The sunken scar on the left of her top lip only
served to accent the wicked quirk to her lips and if Elyan didn't know any
better he'd think she might have a chance against him. He was tired and
almost ready to turn down her offer, but the challenge sparkling in her eyes
was covering the frustration he’d only just witnessed and, just as it was
every time she did this, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. Rolling his
eyes, he could barely lift his own fists to defend before she’d jabbed at him,
and he only just moved fast enough to deflect the blow before she was
swinging another. Her attack came in a flurry of precise blows, faster than
he could block them, and he grunted as her knuckles clipped his jaw,
sending him stumbling. She laughed as she waited for him to recompose
himself, the smirk she held only growing all the more playful just a fraction
before she rounded on him again, but this time he was ready for her. In a
blur of movement he grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him and
kicking her feet out from underneath her. Before she could struggle free he
pinned her to the ground, tickling her relentlessly until she squealed in
defeat and batted her hand against the floor. He chuckled as she shoved him
off her, offering him a playful glare as she struggled to her feet and dusted
herself down.
"I'll get you one of these days~"
"Doubtful~"
Breathing out the tension in her gut, Lydia chuckled as she finally took a
look at her brother. One wrapped hand lifted to examine his still-damp hair,
scrunching up her nose as she glanced at the clothes he’d clearly just
thrown on in a fit of not-caring. “It’s an effort, I suppose. Ever heard of a
hairdryer?”
Elyan grimaced at that, "Too loud."
"Towel?"
"You know that's a futile effort with our hair type."
Tilting her head in acceptance of that, Lydia gently tapped his cheek; just
below his eyes, where dark rings were beginning to form just above the
natural circles that already softened them. “You’re tired.”
"I'm just stressed."
Lydia’s brow lifted in doubt, her lips pursing just slightly, and once upon a
time that stern-yet-gentle look might have set off pangs in his chest; so
much like their mother. “I haven’t seen you sleep in days. And no, napping
at your desk because you can’t stay awake any more doesn’t count.”
“And what d’you suggest I do about it, wise and all-powerful care nurse? I
can’t sleep now – it’s midday. And I have scans to keep an eye on. And files
to read through. And-”
“Nap.” Lydia interrupted sharply, her lips pressing even tighter together.
“At least. Work will still be there when you wake up. Doubt Jani’ll get far
either. Go on. I’ll wake you if your computer starts beeping or something.”
Elyan almost opened his mouth to argue but once again found himself
shrinking under his sister’s gaze, and with a final, defeated sigh he tottered
back inside. Miss Grant's case could wait an hour or two, he supposed.
***
As it was, the case waited far longer than he intended. Blinking groggily
awake, there were blurry smears and sleep in his vision as he forced himself
to sit up and check the time with a groan. Fourteen hours. He'd slept almost
fourteen hours. So much for Lydia waking him up. This was exactly why he
hated sleeping – he'd be in a high mood getting so much done, and the
moment he allowed himself to stop it all crashed to nothing. There was a
hole in his chest where his mood should have been, and the darkness was
slowly settling in on his brain, or-.. maybe that was dehydration. It was
always hard to tell that apart from depression.
Reaching for the water bottle he’d left on the bedside table, he sat in silence
for a long moment, listening to the sounds of the house. Lydia was shuffling
around in the next room and his brow pinched as he listened to her footsteps
carry past his door and out of the building. Where was she off to at this time
of night? Just once, it would be nice if she told him what he was doing.
SHE'S NOT COMING BACK.
The whispers were there before he could anticipate them, and Elyan
groaned aloud, plopping his drink back down before sliding out of bed and
padding towards the bathroom. “She will,” he muttered firmly to himself.
YOU DROVE HER AWAY. SHE'S GONE. YOU'RE TOO MUCH WORK.
“Unlikely,” he huffed, finishing up in the bathroom and heading to his
office. Lydia had been dealing with him for longer than he could put a date
to – that one missed shower or an extra-long nap would drive her away was
ridiculous even by his brain's standards.
EVERYTHING BUILDS UP EVENTUALLY. THE LAST STRAW. SHE'S GONE.
And besides, he decided as he sat at his desk, this was Lydia they were
thinking about. If she were to walk out on him for something like this
there'd definitely be more of a fuss kicked up about it. Maybe some broken
pieces of furniture or smashed dishes. Brushing a now-dry wave of hair
behind his ear, he set to work skimming through the results of yesterday's
scan; opting to completely ignore the persistent, echoed whispering
bouncing through his ears until it returned to background noise.
Admittedly that took a while, but between frustrated groaning and
distracted huffing he finally found what he was looking for – a match to
Jani Grant. A jump of triumph shot through his chest as he left his brain
nattering like an overbearing boss over his shoulder and focused on the
results. She'd been noticed unharmed by a security camera, a couple of
dozen miles north at a gas station: the first sign he knew confirmed this was
a runaway case. Now for the question of whether or not to chase her down
personally and talk to her, or simply let her mother know where she was.
Thinking back to Cathy's piercing blue eyes and can-I-speak-to-your-manager haircut, it was scarcely even a question. He needed to know the
reasoning behind the kid's escape before he could even think about telling
her mother anything.
The loud ping of a phone interrupted his thoughts before he could act on
that decision – Lydia? Perhaps she was letting him know where she was for
once. Rummaging through untidy piles of paper on his desk, he paused as
the ping sounded again. From the other room. That was coming from
Lydia's phone, not his. Tutting at himself, he pushed out of his seat to find
its source.
He found her phone in the corner of the second bedroom, left on her
bedside table – not deliberately, he hoped silently, though the voices were
adamant it was. A quick glance around the room told him her camera bag
was gone and he couldn't help but breathe a short sigh of relief. She was out
taking photographs before the sunrise; probably to distract herself from her
own foul mood. That meant she'd likely be back in a few hours once she'd
found an adequately creepy abandoned building or broken doll to snap in
the dim morning light. Still, it would have been nice for her to actually tell
him that.
Shoving that thought aside for a moment, he glanced at Lydia's phone as it
pinged once more, noting that the sender was using a hidden number. A
lump of anxiety built in his throat, hand reaching to examine the messages
before he could stop himself nosing.
GOT A JOB FOR YOU
A HIT
MEET ME
A job so soon after they'd decided to move on. As he read through the texts
with a deep frown, another came through – a time and a place. Today, no
less. Was this how her jobs usually came through? He didn't usually make a
habit of reading through her messages: she didn't ask for the details of his
job and he definitely didn't want to know the details of hers. He knew in her
line of work that anonymity and security were important, but this set his
teeth on edge and he couldn't shake the anxiety it left him with.
Still, he made a mental note to tell her about it when she got home.
IF SHE GETS HOME
"When she gets home."
He left the phone back where he'd found it, heaving another sigh and
attempting to return to his work – only to read through the same piece of
paper three times, take absolutely none of it in, and stare at a blank screen
for a good few minutes before deciding he was in no mood to focus on any
of it right now. Not when Lydia was out god-knows-where, possibly getting
herself in trouble.
“Which we already established she isn't,” he mumbled to himself, but
wandered nonetheless to plop himself down in the living room. The book he
tried to flip through did nothing to distract him, and with a resigned huff he
found himself flicking through the security footage on the TV. It was the
only thing the screen was really used for, besides the occasional DVD they
watched together on the beaten-up player they'd found in a thrift store.
Elyan had set up cameras around the perimeter to keep an eye out for
unannounced visitors – or in this case, his sister returning. Settling where he
sat and attempting to read his book again, he kept an eye on the screen; far
more comfortable now he could survey his surroundings.
The sun was high in the sky when Lydia finally came home, and Elyan was
at his wits' end. His distractions had lost their effectiveness and over time
he grew increasingly convinced something had happened to her – no matter
how he tried to reason it away, the belief had settled and stuck firm in his
chest. Even as he saw her figure approaching along the driveway it took
him a long moment to convince himself it was actually her and not some
imposter sent to fool him.
His expression was blank but his dark eyes were steely as he left the house
to greet her in the drive. Her trip didn't seem to have done anything to fix
her foul mood as she flicked through the pictures on her camera with a
frown so small it barely wrinkled her brow. When she glanced up to see the
look on his face she attempted to ignore him and head straight inside, but
Ely was already moving to follow her and by the time she was inside he
was watching from the doorway, arms folded.
“Say whatever you're mad about,” she huffed, already knowing what was
coming, “unless standing there looking like a bored arsehole is all you were
planning on doing.”
“You should have told me where you were going.” Elyan's voice didn't
betray the pounding in his chest or the whispers in his ears but he could see
Lydia still winced at the cold, flat tone of it.
“You were asleep.” Lydia's face reddened a little, shuffling where she stood
like a defensive child, “I was gonna text you but I forgot my-”
“Your phone, aye, and I'm not even going to touch on how stupid that was,”
he finished coolly. “You should have woken me. You know I need to know
where you go, Lydia.”
“Yes, I fucking know.” She couldn't help herself and Elyan knew it. The
snapped response was out of her mouth before she could bite her tongue,
her gaze lifting sharply to glare at him. “I fucked up. I'm sorry. You done?”
Even as her raised voice set him even further on edge, Elyan's tone didn't
waver. “Anything could've happened to you. A note-- just some small
courtesy is all I-”
“I get it!” Lydia slammed her camera down with a snarl, hands tugging
frustrated at dark hair as she made a visible effort to restrain herself. An
effort that seemed fruitless as she continued. “You're not my dad, you don't
have to get your fucking hands in everything I do!”
Elyan could see he wasn't going to get any further with this. With a resigned
sigh, he shook his head and left the room, listening to the one final
frustrated yell she threw as he closed the door behind him and returned to
his office. Perhaps his work was interesting enough to deal with after all –
at least until Lydia's outburst had died down.
Brushing a strand of hair behind his ear, he took a moment to remember
what he'd been doing before settling back down to stare at his laptop. If he
was going to chase down Jani Grant and talk to her himself, he had to keep
tabs on where she was, and that meant keeping a close eye on security
cameras in the area until he had the chance to go get her. Shoving his
frustration and the knot in his chest into a tiny compartment in his head for
a while, he scrolled back through the footage he'd got, frowning a little as
he skimmed through it. Something wasn't right. When his software had
made the match, he'd watched her enter a gas station. And now, hours later,
she hadn't left. In fact, another car had arrived – and not just arrived,
appeared. Someone had looped the footage and apparently left in such a
hurry that they hadn't been able to wait until a less suspicious moment to
put everything back to normal. Almost immediately his head was spinning
with possibilities, the knot in his chest unceremoniously shoving its way
back out of its compartment in the form of jumbled fears and paranoia, but
he sucked in a breath and forced some kind of focus, sifting through the
mess in his head and plucking out the few things that were more likely.
One: she really, really didn't want to be found.
Two: she's in with the 'wrong crowd', perhaps staged a robbery
Three: she is ONE OF THEM SHE'S COMING FOR YOU SHE'S COMING FOR--
“Enough!” Though he didn't raise his voice, the snap was apparently
forceful enough to catch Lydia's attention from the next room, because
moments later she was cautiously pushing the door open, looking
considerably calmer and more than a little sheepish.
“You okay?”
Elyan's gaze flicked up with a startled huff, relaxing as he saw her there and
nodding slightly. “Aye, I'm just-.. having a day,” he murmured, running his
hands over his face in frustration.
Swallowing heavily, she matched his nod and tottered forward, closing the
door behind her in a symbol of courtesy he appreciated. “I'm-.. sorry. I
didn't mean to yell. Or leave without telling you. I'll leave a note next time.”
Elyan brushed off her apology with a brief, grateful smile, any tension still
in his chest from their argument released almost immediately by her
promise. It was all he needed to begin with, and he knew she knew that, but
he also knew her pain and fury was a grenade in her stomach that primed
itself to blow the moment something jostled it. He was going to ask if
anything in particular had her worked up today but she was already
standing behind him, peering over his shoulder at his screen with a
questioning gaze. “What's up? Need a hand?”
Glad to focus on work again, he showed her the footage he'd found,
explaining his discoveries with a tremble in his voice, and Lydia chewed the
corner of her lip in thought as she glanced between him and the screen,
understanding immediately what the problem was. “Shit. And you think
maybe it's...”
She didn't finish the sentence, like the question was too difficult to
verbalise, but the implications of her tone were enough for Elyan to nod
again, his fingers tapping anxiously against the wood of his desk.
“Okay.” Though she still seemed impatient and tired, her tone was practised
and calm – the kind of calm she only ever managed for her brother. “Okay.
So. Besides that, you have theories, right? Talk it out with me, or whatever.”
He told her, with no lack of stammering and half-forgotten sentences, the
grand number of two theories he'd managed to come up with. After a
moment's pause to think, Lydia nodded, “Well, let's stick with those ideas
for a tad, and then-.. maybe when I go on my next job we can take a detour,
aye?”
“Aye. About that-”
“I know. I saw the texts,” she assured him, genuinely nonchalant in a way
that untied one of the many knots in his chest. Perhaps it really was just his
paranoia making him worry about it so much. “I'll do whatever they want
doing, grab my pay, and then we can go see about your missing kid.”
Shrugging again, she moved to sit across from him, resting her chin on the
desk like a bored puppy. “Either way it'll be my last job here, probably.
Can't afford to keep waiting around for them like this, and this place isn't
cheap. I'll do my thing and then we can go do yours for however long.
D'you need anything else? I've got fuck all before I gear up so-.. whatever
you need, aye? Should-.. Should I let you be for a while?”
It was habit that almost had him nodding, but with the last couple of days'
drama he was beginning to realise that perhaps sitting on his own and
working all day wasn’t a good idea after all. “...no,” he murmured.
The frown already touching her brow grew deeper, and she stood again –
automatically reaching to stroke the soft hair behind his ear in a comforting
gesture. “In that case you're coming with me, and we're gonna watch
something and have our tea, and we're gonna chill the fuck out, okay?”
“Aye. Thank you.” Elyan sighed, still reluctant despite knowing this was
best for now. “And thank you for apologising earlier.”
She didn't hear him, or if she did she chose to ignore it; already leaving the
room to find a film she liked that was tame enough that Ely would too.
In the end she settled on rewatching Frozen. Again. It was a weakness.
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