The Third Sister by Cosgrave Keiron & Hancock Christine

Author:Cosgrave, Keiron & Hancock, Christine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indium Books
Published: 2022-06-05T00:00:00+00:00

With a firm knock and a bright, ‘Hello, it’s me,’ Viv Meynell announces her arrival at the back door.

I look up from my seat at the kitchen table.

Her slender frame only half fills the door opening. She’s wearing a beige, showerproof, knee-length raincoat. A tightly buckled belt emphasises her tiny waist. She could be a spy from a Cold War movie.

For a second, her beauty and comfortable familiarity, irritate me. Then I remember. I asked, no begged, her to come.

Her smile suddenly stiffens and freezes her features into a concerned frown. ‘Are you OK, Jenny?’ she says. ‘You don’t look well,’ she adds, crossing to me, placing her huge shoulder bag on the table.

‘I’m fine. I’ve been worried sick. I thought you were ignoring me. It’s been over a day.’

Her expression softens. ‘Not at all. These things take time. Do you mind if I sit down?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Thanks.’

She drags out and takes the chair opposite. ‘I’ll explain what we’ve found out,’ she says. ‘Why don’t I make you a hot drink, first. Are you sure you’re alright?’

Despite myself, I flare my eyes. ‘I don’t want a drink. I’m OK. Please, tell me you’ll bring Lucy home,’ I say, making to stand.

‘Sit down, Jenny,’ she barks.

Startled, I obey.

‘So, let’s get right to it. I’m delighted to confirm that the photograph of the teddy in the WhatsApp message was definitely taken on Lucy’s phone. The service provider also confirmed the same phone was either powered down, or had the battery removed, between the 25th September and 3rd October – yesterday,’ she explains.

Why is she telling me things I already know? Does she think I’m stupid? ‘I know I’ve been ringing her every day for almost two months. It goes straight to voicemail.’

‘I appreciate what you’re saying, but it’s important we restate the facts. Often, the most simple explanation is the right one,’ she says, resting her elbows on the tabletop, tactfully ignoring the bread crumbs and dirty crockery.

‘But the messages? The photograph?’ I say, massaging my temples. What does she mean? Does she suspect me of fabricating them? Of using Photoshop, or something?

She removes her phone from a coat pocket. ‘We’ve analysed the metadata from the image, and it’s genuine. You’ve recognised the teddy and confirmed it belongs to Lucy. So, by placing the coordinates embedded in the image into Google Maps, we pinpointed the exact location the photograph was taken,’ she says, leaning across the table, showing me the image of the teddy on the sun lounger. ‘See?’

All I see is a photograph. ‘Surely, this proves Lucy’s in Portugal? Can’t you just send someone there and bring her back?’ I implore.

Viv draws a long breath. ‘I agree. The data suggests Lucy may be in Portugal, yes. However, the tone and content of her message, suggests she’s more than happy to be there. She’s obviously being taken care of. She’s got a job. Somewhere to stay. States that she and the baby are well. And has explicitly stated that she doesn’t want to come home.

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