Page 75 of The Unforgiven
“I don’t know,” Sylvia admitted. “I thought you were Logan.”
“Sylvia, what’s happened?” Gabe demanded, his voice rising by several octaves. “Where’s my daughter?”
Sylvia sank down onto the sofa, as if her legs could no longer hold her up. She wrung her hands and her unfocused gaze slid around the room to avoid meeting Gabe’s intent stare. The house was ominously quiet, only the ticking of the clock audible over the hush. It felt to Gabe as if all the air had just been sucked out, leaving him and Sylvia suspended in a vacuum, their movements reminiscent of some strange pantomime.
“Sylvia,” Gabe barked, forcing her to look at him.
“Emma was taking a nap, so I asked Jude to mind her while I ran out to the shops. I wanted to pick up some chops for our tea. There was a line at the till, and I took longer than expected. When I came back they were gone.”
“Have you rung Jude?”
“Of course. I’ve been trying for hours. He’s not answering, and his mailbox is full.”
“Where’s Logan?” Gabe demanded.
“Logan and Colin went out to look for Jude and Emma. Logan knows Jude’s favorite hangouts. He thought it was worth a try.”
Gabe sank onto the sofa and covered his face with his hands. His stomach felt hollow and his chest tight, as if a cinder block rested on his ribcage. He was a horrible parent, the kind of parent who allowed something awful to happen to their child through thoughtlessness and negligence. He should have never left Emma with Sylvia. He hardly knew her, and what he knew of Jude made his blood run cold. Emma would have been devastated by the death of her grandfather, but at least she would have been safe. Now she was out there somewhere, alone with a drug addict who’d taken her out hours ago without telling anyone where he was going.
“We’ve got to call the police,” Gabe said, springing to his feet.
“Gabe, no, please,” Sylvia wailed. “Not yet.”
Gabe stared at her, confused, and then the penny dropped, and his fear escalated to new heights. “Jude’s got a record, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. He was arrested for heroin possession and dealing a few years ago. He spent six months at a juvenile hall since he was still a minor.”
“So you left my child alone with a druggie and a felon, and merrily went off to the shops?” Gabe roared, fighting to control an overwhelming desire to grab Sylvia and shake her until her teeth rattled. The impulse shamed him, so he drew in a few deep breaths to calm his temper.
“He’s my son, Gabriel. I don’t think of him in those terms,” Sylvia replied with a defiant lift of her head.
“Well, Emma is my daughter, and you have no bloody idea where she is. She’s four, Sylvia. She’s vulnerable and trusting. I’m calling the police.”
“Gabe, I beg you. Wait. It’s only been three hours.”
“That’s three hours too long.”
Gabe was about to call the police when the doorbell rang. Sylvia ran to answer it, but the light of hope went out of her eyes when Logan and Colin came in, looking tired and worried.
“We didn’t find them,” Logan said. “None of his mates have seen him today.”
“Oh, God,” Sylvia moaned. She tried to stay Gabe’s hand as he called 999, but he wouldn’t be deterred. Night was coming, and Emma would be out there alone with a strung-out heroin addict. It didn’t bear thinking about. Gabe calmly gave all thepertinent information and disconnected the call. The police were on their way.
“I’ll make some tea,” Colin offered. “I’d prefer something stronger, but it won’t do for the police to think that anyone in the house might be under the influence.”
Sylvia resumed her seat on the sofa, Logan next to her. Gabe couldn’t sit still, so he paced the room like a caged tiger, ready to pounce on anyone who dared to cross his path.
Everyone jumped to attention when a key turned in the lock and Emma exploded into the room. She was wearing shimmering fairy wings and had a fuchsia streak in her black hair. She twirled around to show everyone her beautiful wings and then jumped into Gabe’s arms, thrilled to see him back.
“Daddy, I have pink hair!” she cried, clearly delighted with her new do.
Jude walked in after her. Emma’s Disney Princesses backpack was slung over his shoulder and he carried her jumper in his hand, since she couldn’t wear it over her wings. Jude had shaved the sides of his head, and the hair on top stood in sculpted spikes, the tips colored electric blue. Around his neck he wore a leather collar studded with metal grommets.
“Where the hell have you been?” Gabe snarled, barely controlling his temper so as not to frighten Emma. He wanted to take a swing at Jude and watch him go down in a heap, but under the circumstances, that wasn’t an option. Some part of Gabe’s brain reflected that becoming a parent had turned him into an unhinged lunatic who would probably need to enroll in an anger-management program before long.
Jude looked around, his expression confused. “What’s everyone freaking out about?” he asked, finally noticing Logan and Colin’s anxious faces and Sylvia’s deathly pallor.
Gabe was about to respond when the doorbell rang. A pair of plain-clothed detectives were at the door. They identified themselves before stepping into the entryway.
