children don’t want anything to do with the police. They don’t make contact with the parents of the child, unless it’s a ransom demand. And ransom demands would normally come in close to the time of abduction.”
I’d sat here in this office with Luke six months ago, our hands grasping each other’s as Luke asked the detective for cold facts. Gilroy had admitted that children who were abducted by strangers had a high chance of being murdered. And of those children who were murdered, three-quarters of them were murdered within three hours.
Three hours.
If that statistic included Tommy, then he’d already been dead when Luke and I were still searching the playground and surrounds for him with the police and others who’d joined in.
Did Detective Gilroy believe that Tommy was dead, despite him claiming that he didn’t?
Dead, dead, dead. Such a flat, final word. There was no light or hope in that word. There was no Tommy in that word. There was only the possibility of a body. After all these months, if Tommy was dead, there wasn’t even any possibility of a body: there was only the possibility of Tommy’s skeletal remains .
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough oxygen in this tiny office. I couldn’t stay here in Trent’s office any longer, with his abduction statistics and his neutral voice and the graph line on his forehead.
“Are you okay, Phoebe?” His eyes flicked over me in concern. I knew the laundry list of what I looked like: dark circles under my eyes, no makeup, untidy hair spilling out of a ponytail. I didn’t look okay .
Nodding, I got up too quickly. The room tilted and spun.
“Phoebe?”
“I’m just tired. Please let me know if you have any news.”
I hurried out, my head still swimming, trying to look normal. Out on the street, the wintry air stung my cheeks, but at least I could breathe again.
I’d know if Tommy were dead. Wouldn’t I?
The answer came to me instantly. I wouldn’t know. A stranger had taken him from under my nose, and I hadn’t even known that was happening. In those moments that I thought he was playing near my feet, he was being led or carried away from me.
When I looked back, I imagined I had a sense of dread right at that time. But the dread had to be in retrospect. If I’d known what was about to happen to Tommy, I would have stopped it.
10. LUKE
Wednesday morning
“MATE, WE CLOSED THE MONAHAN DEAL.” Rob grinned. At six and a half million dollars, we were going to get a tidy commission out of that. Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his feet on the desk.
Every morning, Rob and I had a brief catch-up. We’d been caught a few times telling clients different things, and now we made sure we had our stories straight. Selling real estate was an art. You tried to funnel buyers towards the top of what they could afford, sometimes to the properties that weren’t selling, or to the deals if you thought they’d be a good repeat customer. You had to know when a buyer was worth going the extra mile for and when a buyer was a time-waster.
Behind Rob lay the same view I had from my office window. But for some reason I couldn’t determine, the scene looked different from Rob’s window. Maybe it was because I felt myself moving inside Rob’s frame here in his office. He lived for the thrill of the big sales and saw everything as an opportunity.
“Gonna call Ellie.” With his feet still on the desk, he grabbed the phone.
Ellie was one of our best salespeople—the best actually. I’d been wanting to put her onto handling the auctions. Almost all of our sales were via auctions. And Ellie had a sense of drama and theatrics that Rob and I lacked. But Rob kept holding out. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought maybe that he just couldn’t cope with the idea of his wife being on the same level as him. Maybe I understood that, in a way. The auctions were a male bastion. I only knew of a
I’d sat here in this office with Luke six months ago, our hands grasping each other’s as Luke asked the detective for cold facts. Gilroy had admitted that children who were abducted by strangers had a high chance of being murdered. And of those children who were murdered, three-quarters of them were murdered within three hours.
Three hours.
If that statistic included Tommy, then he’d already been dead when Luke and I were still searching the playground and surrounds for him with the police and others who’d joined in.
Did Detective Gilroy believe that Tommy was dead, despite him claiming that he didn’t?
Dead, dead, dead. Such a flat, final word. There was no light or hope in that word. There was no Tommy in that word. There was only the possibility of a body. After all these months, if Tommy was dead, there wasn’t even any possibility of a body: there was only the possibility of Tommy’s skeletal remains .
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough oxygen in this tiny office. I couldn’t stay here in Trent’s office any longer, with his abduction statistics and his neutral voice and the graph line on his forehead.
“Are you okay, Phoebe?” His eyes flicked over me in concern. I knew the laundry list of what I looked like: dark circles under my eyes, no makeup, untidy hair spilling out of a ponytail. I didn’t look okay .
Nodding, I got up too quickly. The room tilted and spun.
“Phoebe?”
“I’m just tired. Please let me know if you have any news.”
I hurried out, my head still swimming, trying to look normal. Out on the street, the wintry air stung my cheeks, but at least I could breathe again.
I’d know if Tommy were dead. Wouldn’t I?
The answer came to me instantly. I wouldn’t know. A stranger had taken him from under my nose, and I hadn’t even known that was happening. In those moments that I thought he was playing near my feet, he was being led or carried away from me.
When I looked back, I imagined I had a sense of dread right at that time. But the dread had to be in retrospect. If I’d known what was about to happen to Tommy, I would have stopped it.
10. LUKE
Wednesday morning
“MATE, WE CLOSED THE MONAHAN DEAL.” Rob grinned. At six and a half million dollars, we were going to get a tidy commission out of that. Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his feet on the desk.
Every morning, Rob and I had a brief catch-up. We’d been caught a few times telling clients different things, and now we made sure we had our stories straight. Selling real estate was an art. You tried to funnel buyers towards the top of what they could afford, sometimes to the properties that weren’t selling, or to the deals if you thought they’d be a good repeat customer. You had to know when a buyer was worth going the extra mile for and when a buyer was a time-waster.
Behind Rob lay the same view I had from my office window. But for some reason I couldn’t determine, the scene looked different from Rob’s window. Maybe it was because I felt myself moving inside Rob’s frame here in his office. He lived for the thrill of the big sales and saw everything as an opportunity.
“Gonna call Ellie.” With his feet still on the desk, he grabbed the phone.
Ellie was one of our best salespeople—the best actually. I’d been wanting to put her onto handling the auctions. Almost all of our sales were via auctions. And Ellie had a sense of drama and theatrics that Rob and I lacked. But Rob kept holding out. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought maybe that he just couldn’t cope with the idea of his wife being on the same level as him. Maybe I understood that, in a way. The auctions were a male bastion. I only knew of a
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