Mirrorland by Carole Johnstone (books for 6 year olds to read themselves txt) 📕

me has started thinking the same thing. I sound like someone trying very hard to convince herself that what she thinks, what she’s been thinking ever since she got on a plane at LAX, is still the only possible truth. That queasiness has returned to squeeze at my stomach. The smell of coffee makes it worse.

Rafiq leans forwards. ‘Something bad has happened to your sister. Whether you believe that or not is irrelevant to this investigation, but I must admit, I find it awful curious that the twin sister of a high-risk missing person doesn’t seem even a wee bit bothered about her.’ She cocks her head, reminding me of the tiny-boned birds on all of Mum’s mounted china plates. ‘I’ve worked in this job long enough to know when something’s off, or when someone’s not telling me the whole truth.’

We’re going down a bad path here, and I can only think of one way to turn us back. ‘This was delivered yesterday,’ I say, putting the sympathy card on the table.

Ross snatches it up. He looks at my name on the envelope, takes out the card and opens it without a word. His shoulders sag, and he grips the card so tightly between thumb and forefinger it starts to crumple.

‘Hey, no, it’s all right,’ I say, reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. ‘This is a good thing. It’s El. It has to be.’ I frown when he still says nothing. ‘It’s hand-delivered, Ross! That means she has to be nearby. It means she—’

‘El got these,’ he says, in that raw stripped voice. ‘She got dozens of these.’

‘Oh.’ Something like a chill runs up my back.

‘Right up until she disappeared.’

Rafiq carefully takes the card from Ross, reads it, and then puts it back inside the envelope to give to Logan. I watch him put it inside a clear plastic bag, imagine a scenario where El didn’t send it, and feel alternately hot and cold. It suddenly occurs to me that it surely can’t be routine for CID to be involved in missing-person cases. I look at Rafiq. ‘Is that why you’re investigating? Because of the cards? Do you know who—’

‘We’d already opened an investigation into similar threats against your sister, aye. Was it you who found it?’

‘Yes. Someone rang the doorbell.’ There’s a monster in this house. I rub my arms. ‘The card was lying on the mat.’

‘Maybe now you’ll start taking them fucking seriously,’ Ross growls.

Rafiq stands up. ‘Ross, I can assure you that we’re taking everything very seriously. We’ll run forensics on this one, just like we did the others.’

‘But why would someone send me the same threatening cards as my sister? It doesn’t make sense. No one knows I’m here except Ross and you.’ And El.

Rafiq frowns. ‘They may be related to El’s disappearance, and they may not. Right now, finding El is our utmost priority. The cards have never escalated in threat, and we’ve found no evidence that El was being stalked or threatened in any other way. And the fact you’re now the target makes me suspect a nosy neighbour with a grudge and too much time on their hands, rather than anything more sinister.’ When Ross starts to object again, she holds up a hand. ‘Which is not to say that we won’t continue to investigate them as part of this case. Or that you shouldn’t get in touch straightaway if you receive any more.’

She steps back, looks at us both. ‘We came here to reassure you both that as of now, nothing has changed. We and the Coastguard are still using all available resources to look for El. But it would be a good idea for you to start preparing yourselves for the likelihood of that changing if there are no new developments in the next twenty-four hours. Okay? Has Shona been in touch with you today?’

Ross nods.

‘Shona is your family liaison officer, Catriona. She’ll keep you updated with any new developments. Meantime, Logan here is still your first single point of contact. And get in touch with the Missing People folk again, Ross – El’s entry still hasn’t gone live. You’ve still got all the other helpline numbers, aye?’

‘I don’t need a counsellor,’ Ross says. ‘I just need my wife.’

Rafiq gets up close to him, and still manages to look him in the eye even though he must be close to a foot taller. ‘We’ll find her, Ross.’

And I’ve watched enough crappy cop shows to know they’re pretty much never supposed to say that.

I walk them out into the hallway, and Logan stops, smiles, hands me his card. ‘If you need anything, want to know anything,’ he says.

Rafiq opens the door, and I watch them go down the steps into the sun. At the gate, Rafiq stops to let Logan out before turning around and beckoning me like I’m a cocker spaniel. I go down into the cold bright garden reluctantly, folding my arms over my chest.

‘Where would she go? If she chose to leave, where would she go?’

I blink. ‘I have no idea.’

‘What about her husband?’

‘What about him?’

‘Is there anything you want to tell me about him – about them – that maybe you weren’t comfortable saying while he was in the room?’ When I don’t reply, she can’t hide her irritation. ‘We’ve spoken to Southwark University, confirmed that he was there when he said he was. I’m just asking you, as a close member of the family, if we should have any reason at all to be concerned about him?’

Her eyes flicker beyond my shoulder, and when I turn around, I see Ross’s silhouette watching us from the window. I go cold. ‘No. Of course not. This isn’t his fault. I told you, all of it’s El. It has to be.’ And I resist adding that it’s been a very long time since I was a close member of any family.

Rafiq studies me too long, too closely. ‘You really do think she’s all right.’

When I don’t