Free Wings over the Watcher by Priscilla Masters

all.
    “Well, this isn’t her secret lover,” Joanna said. “She must have had some sort of health problem. Even if her husband wasn’t aware.”
    Korpanski was frowning. “Why use her mobile to ring the doctor,” he mused. “Why didn’t she ring from home?”
    Joanna was less curious. “Some illness she didn’t want her husband to know about? Women do like their secrets, you know, Korpanski. Particularly when it comes to their health and personal problems.”
    “Ye-e-s.” He was not convinced.
    None of the other telephone numbers cropped up frequently or were prolonged conversations. They’d check them all out, of course, but neither of them was hopeful.
    They’d basically drawn a blank. So far.
    The last time the phone had given out a signal had been in the Leek area, slightly to the north east. That had been at 10 a.m. on Wednesday morning – an hour after her husband had left for work.
    It still wasn’t enough evidence to cause concern. Most people nowadays knew that mobile phones were eminently traceable and sent out frequent signals. If Beatrice was really serious about her bid to disappear she may well have dumped her mobile phone somewhere. And Jewel had made a comment about her friend allowing her mobile battery to run down.
    So this meant nothing.
    Or something.
    And it was back to the irritating little question. “So where is she?”
    Mike shrugged. “Search me.”
     
    “Are you all right, doctor?”
    Corinne felt such a fool. She had lifted herself from the floor and was sitting at her desk, dizzy and sick, a pulse pounding in her head.
    “I’m fine,” she mumbled and knew she had fooled no one and certainly not herself.
     
    Joanna glanced back at the still large pile of papers waiting to be dealt with. She could not afford to waste time on this knotty little problem.
    And yet…
    She made a small note for herself of people to contact if Beatrice Pennington didn’t turn up in the next day or two.
    Top was the members of the Readers’ Group. They could probably get a list of participants from the library – and speak to Beatrice’s colleagues at the same time. Then there were her two children, her other friend, Marilyn, her parents and her sister. Surely
someone
would be able to throw some light on the whereabouts of the missing woman?
    There is always a voice inside you which acts as devil’s advocate.
    Jewel Pirtek had been her confidant. She had been the most likely person to know. And Joanna didn’t think Jewel had hidden anything that she
really
knew.
     
    She worked hard until five o’clock. But Joanna still felt fidgety and dissatisfied by the end of the afternoon. She looked up Arthur Pennington’s number in the phone book and called him. He was in.
    “It’s Inspector Joanna Piercy here.”
    “Hello.” His voice was eager. He thought she’d found something out.
    “I wondered…”
    “There’s been no sign of her?” His disappointment was tangible. He was close to breaking point.
    “No. I’m sorry. I’ve tried her mobile number.”
    “Oh.” It was as though he’d just remembered. “I was supposed to… I’m so sorry. It just slipped my mind. I came home. Suddenly everything caved in on me.”
    “Is there somewhere you could stay?”
    “I can’t leave here. What if she comes home and finds me gone?”
    They all do this, parents of missing children, husbands, wives. All the detritus of the missing. They wait and stay, as a dog guards a bone and just as pointlessly they stand guard
inside their homes and wait.
    What else is there to do?
    Sometimes they expend their energy. They drive round areas where they think their loved one is. They haunt hospital casualty departments or search other places their loved ones felt attached to. Sometimes – in desperation they visit places their loved ones would never have been to – churches, Salvation Army hostels, railway stations.
    And each time they leave the house they leave a neighbour or friend on guard or pin a