The Runaway

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I found Jo and Nikki sitting on the wall outside the Students’ Union. Well, Jo sat and smoked while Nikki paced, chewing a thumbnail.

‘What the fuck did you do that for?’ I shouted at Nikki soon as I was close enough.

‘It’s not my fault.’

‘You just chased off our only witness.’

Nikki snorted air through her nostrils. ‘Might have known she’d be involved.’

‘Who is she?’

‘She’s sex mad. Everyone knows.’

‘What?’

‘Nikki thinks Sara might have “stolen” Matt,’ Jo explained, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head at the same time.

I took the cigarette from Jo’s fingers and had a drag. ‘Stolen him?’

‘Yes,’ said Jo. ‘Kidnapped him, held him against his will in her sex dungeon. You know, like women do.’

I didn’t think Jo was helping. ‘We needed to speak to her,’ I said to Nikki. ‘She might have been able to help. Do you want us to find your boyfriend or what?’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can’t take the sitting around.’

‘So, Sara knows Matt?’

Nikki sat down on the wall next to Jo and folded her arms across her chest. ‘They’re both in Greenpeace. She thinks she’s God’s gift.’

I remembered the look on Sara’s face. It didn’t strike me as the look of someone who thought they were God’s gift. What did she know? What did she want from Matt? I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. ‘Who told you where we’d be?’

Nikki didn’t answer. Jo and I glanced at each other.

‘Aunt Edie,’ we both said at the same time.

‘It wasn’t her fault,’ Nikki said. ‘I asked her for a glass of water, and while she was out of the room, I read the notes she was typing up.’

I made a mental note to have a word with our receptionist-stroke-office-manager when we got back to the office.

Chapter Eight (#ulink_2ec9a55e-83e4-5c8e-99ab-fe2d40479cb1)

We managed to dump Nikki in the Students’ Union and, once I was convinced she wasn’t following us, Jo and I made our way out of campus and across Woodhouse Lane to the university bookshop.

We pushed through the door and looked around. A tall gangly man stood behind the till; a couple of young customers browsed the shelves. I headed to the counter. ‘Tuff?’

He frowned at me. ‘Yeah?’

‘Hi, we’d like to talk to you.’ He looked confused, and I realized I used the word ‘we’ and Jo was not by my side. I glanced around and saw her over in the Sex and Gender Section, her head at a right angle to her body. I turned back to the man in front of me. ‘I’d like to talk to you. Have you got a minute?’

He didn’t look busy. ‘Well, I’m at work. What’s it about?’

‘It’s about your housemate, Matt Williams.’

I know I didn’t imagine it. A look of complete panic passed through his eyes. He turned his attention to the pile of books he was stickering with price labels.

‘You know where he is,’ I said.

‘No.’

‘So he’s missing?’

He didn’t speak.

‘Are you worried about him?’

‘Who are you?’

I showed him my badge. He held it steady in my hand so he could read it. ‘Private investigators? Really? Who—?’

‘I know you left him at a party on Saturday night. You drove his car back on Sunday morning, but you left him there.’

‘I’ve got to work.’

‘You took his car and left him in Lincolnshire. How did you think he was going to get home?’

‘He said he’d get a lift. There was a crew from Leeds.’

‘Are you insured to drive his car?’

‘What, so you’re the police now?’

‘No, the police are the next people you’re going to be talking to, if we don’t find Matt. That car that you drove back, illegally, from an illegal party where I’m fairly certain you were taking illegal substances, that car has been smashed to bits by someone who doesn’t seem very happy, either with you or with Matt.’

He carried on stickering the books, and I knew I wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know.

‘You saw his car?’ I asked.

‘Nothing to do with me.’

‘Jan says it’s your responsibility to report it.’

He picked up an armful of books and made his way from behind the counter to one of the shelves. I followed him.

‘It’s in your interests to help us find him.’

He stacked the books on the shelves in silence, seemingly engrossed in his task.

‘Come on, Tuff. As far as we can work out, you were the last person to see him alive.’

‘He’s not dead.’ There was scorn in his voice.

‘How do you know?’

‘Why would he be dead?’

‘Well, he’s missing. Someone’s trashed his car. His girlfriend doesn’t know where he is.’

‘Yeah, well. She might be glad of that one day.’

‘Meaning?’

He didn’t answer my question. I pressed on. ‘I thought you were best mates.’

‘That makes two of us.’

‘You’re very cryptic.’

He put the last book on the shelf and turned to face me. ‘He’ll be back. And when he is, it’s up to him to tell everyone what’s going on.’

‘You left him at a party at the weekend and he’s not back by Thursday and you’re not worried?’

‘No.’

‘He missed a tutorial.’

‘Peak.’

‘Did something happen at the party? Did you guys fall out?’

‘No.’

‘Did he meet a girl? Is that why he stayed?’

‘Don’t ask me. I left early.’

‘Why?’

‘I had to give someone a lift.’

‘Who?’

‘No one. Look, when Matt turns up, I’ll ring you. He can explain.’

‘You left him in the middle of the countryside, took his car, you don’t know how or if he managed to get back to Leeds, but you’re not going to help us find him because you’re being loyal to him?’

‘Something like that, yes.’ He walked back to the counter. Jo was waiting with a couple of books in her hand.

‘That makes no sense,’ I said, as I trailed behind him.

He shrugged and I had the feeling it didn’t make much sense to him either.

I took a stride forward so that I was standing between him and the counter. ‘Who’s Sara?’

A look of pure panic flashed through his face.

‘How’s it going?’ asked Jo. ‘Any joy?’

‘There’s something you’re not telling us,’ I said.

‘Do you want to buy those?’ he asked Jo, as he pushed past me and got behind the till.

‘If we can’t find him, Tuff, we’ll have to go to the police,’ I said. ‘And they’re going to be way less understanding than us about a lot of this stuff …’

‘That’s £12.98,’ he said.

We didn’t bother going back to the office. I phoned Aunt Edie and told her she could go home early. Jo made us fish-finger sandwiches and we ate them with the TV on. Not that we were watching it; I just think neither of us were in the mood for talking.

Jo was in the bath when my phone rang. I took the call into the front room, switched the TV off.

‘Is that Lee Winters?’