Page 47 of Savage Obsession

I can only smile, trying to take in all the names and faces.

“My brother-in-law and his wife live here, too. I think you already met Aaron?”

“Yes. Last night.”

Mrs McRae, she of the tea towel, deposits a plate heaped with bacon, sausage, fried egg and tomatoes before me and the same for Baz. I thank her and wonder where I might possibly put the huge pile of food.

Cristina smiles. “I hope you’re not vegetarian?”

“Er, no.” I take a mouthful of tomatoes. “You have a lot of children…”

“Oh, they’re not all ours.” She waves a dismissive hand, “and anyway, there’s plenty of room. You have just the one, I gather.”

“Yes. Lily. She’s twelve.”

She inclines her chin. “And is missing, I understand. That must be awful. I was separated from my oldest boy, Tomasz, for years. I shall never forget the agony. I hope we are able to assist you in becoming reunited.”

“Thank you,” I murmur. “Mrs O’Neill was hoping to have more news for us by this morning.”

“Ah, yes, she’s hard at work already, hence Roisin is with us for the morning.”

I deduce that the little girl must be Casey’s. “We really should be getting on…”

“Finish your breakfast. You must be famished. If there is anything urgent you need to do, I’m sure Casey will send Frankie to find you. More coffee?”

A quarter of an hour later, our stomachs full of traditional Scottish fare, we troop back up to the first floor, an equally replete Henry at our heels. Baz raps on the door to Casey’s suite, and we enter at the call from within.

There’s no sign of Casey, but Frankie is bent over the workbench, his nose pressed to the screen of a laptop. Another five machines whir and hum industriously on adjacent desks.

His greeting is restricted to a vague wave of his arm, which we interpret as an invitation to sit. We pull up the chair and stool from yesterday and settle behind him.

“Anything?” Baz asks, squinting at the baffling array of numbers on the screen.

“Oh, yes. Loads.” Frankie shifts to his left to access another machine. “This is her route so far.”

A map of Central Europe materialises, with a thin red line apparently marking Lily’s journey. We both lean in the study it.

“You’re saying she went through Prague, then Salzburg?”

“She changed at each of those places and was picked up on the station CCTV. Rail networks do tend to be well covered. She had quite a long wait in Salzburg, spent the night before last on a bench there, but finally boarded a train headed for Innsbruck.”

“My daughter is sleeping on benches…” I whisper, horrified, when Baz translates for me.

“Where did she go from Innsbruck?” Baz wants to know.

“Well, there it gets more difficult. I suspect she’s left the rail network, possibly hitch-hiking or on a bus.”

“Can you still track her?”

“Not as easily. Less cameras.”

“What, then?”

“Our best bet would be for her to turn her phone on…”

“What if she’s lost it, or it was stolen? Or she has no battery left?” I’m clutching at straws, reciting the familiar excuses.

Frankie gnaws on his lower lip. “Yeah, that’s the problem. I’ve been scouring footage from bus stations and truck stops, but nothing so far.”

---