Free The Wrong Girl by David Hewson Page B

talk.’
    Straight away the girl got up from the table and went into the bathroom, closed the door.
    ‘She’s not going to school,’ Renata said. ‘It’s not safe.’
    He laughed.
    ‘There’s nothing to worry about. If there was we wouldn’t be able to move for police.’
    ‘Your father . . .’
    He leaned over the table and took her hands. The way he did when he wanted something.
    ‘Do you think I’d let her out of the front door if I thought there was the slightest chance she’d come to harm?’
    Put the onus on her. Always. She recognized this gambit so well.
    ‘No. But if Lucas is willing to pay for some security . . .’
    ‘I’m not taking any more from him than we need. He’s the reason they targeted her in the first place.’
    ‘All the same . . .’
    ‘He said he’d hold the Georgian kid instead. You heard that, didn’t you? You told me.’
    That bugged her too.
    ‘Where did you go? Why weren’t you there?’
    His face fell.
    ‘I had to take a call. This is getting tedious.’
    ‘From work? On a Sunday?’
    ‘From work. It was international. Couldn’t miss it.’
    The police had taken the Georgian woman to Marnixstraat after her daughter was snatched while she and Saskia got interviewed in a van near the Melkweg. Henk had joined her there part way through.
    ‘I needed you . . .’
    His hand left her.
    ‘I found Saskia. I walked that square until I spotted her jacket. She was alone, hiding near the stores. While you—’
    ‘I didn’t know what to do!’ she shrieked.
    ‘You’re upset,’ he said. ‘It’s understandable. I’ll take her to school today. I’ll talk to the teachers. Make sure they keep an eye on her.’
    ‘Why can’t we be normal?’ she murmured.
    ‘I don’t know what you mean. How exactly have I failed you now?’
    ‘I still don’t understand how she got away from that man.’
    He stared at her and shook his head.
    ‘She told us. She ran away when he wasn’t looking.’
    ‘When he wasn’t looking?’ she echoed, voice high and cracked. ‘Just like that?’
    ‘You sound as if you wished she hadn’t.’
    She dashed her knife on the table. From somewhere a church bell sounded. Pigeons cooed out in the street. A car honked its horn. The city went about its business, unaware that somewhere tragedy was hiding in the shadows, waiting for its moment.
    ‘Don’t say that, Henk! Don’t you dare say that.’
    ‘I’ll get her ready for school . . .’
    ‘I want to take Saskia away for a few days.’
    His head went to one side.
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Spain. Italy. Just for a week.’
    ‘Who’s going to book the tickets? Organize the hotel? How will you cope?’
    ‘I can cope . . .’
    He laughed off the idea. She watched him check his watch, pick up his tablet computer, flick through the messages there as if this strained conversation was of no consequence.
    ‘You want me to leave, don’t you?’ she asked and waited for the sudden storm to break.
    Yet that rarely happened. Even when he was arguing with his father.
    ‘Not again,’ he said with a sigh. ‘You’re upset. If you want to go away for a while. That’s fine. On your own. Saskia stays here. We can manage.’
    He tapped at the screen.
    ‘Say where. I can book it. Rome? Might be warmer in Morocco.’ He kept his eyes on her. ‘If you meet someone I really don’t mind.’
    She closed her eyes and muttered an obscenity.
    ‘Have we come to this?’ Renata whispered.
    When she opened them Saskia was back, ready for school. Henk had his arms round her.
    ‘I really think Mummy should take a break,’ he said looking down at their daughter. ‘Don’t you?’
    Daddy’s girl. Always.
    ‘Yes,’ Saskia said.
    Renata rushed to the door and grabbed her coat. ‘Time for school,’ she said. ‘Get your things.’
    Saskia stayed at the table, head down. Pretty fair hair combed and straight and clean. Only came the third time her mother demanded.
    He watched them go. Checked his watch. Made a call. Then went