Free The Traitor's Story by Kevin Wignall

out.”
    “Sure,” said Ethan, still looking very much in doubt. He visibly assembled his thoughts before saying, “He was English—no, I mean, he was a Scot. Single. I’d guess in his late twenties. His hair was receding at the temples but he had it cropped short so it wasn’t that noticeable. Don’t remember him having any visitors, ever. I’d see him leaving in workout clothes a few evenings a week, but don’t recall him going out much beyond that.”
    “And Hailey?”
    It was Debbie who answered, as her orbit crossed briefly into theirs again. “I don’t believe she ever spoke a word to him. She would laugh sometimes . . .”
    Ethan smiled at the recollection and said, “Yes, a couple of times she was standing by the window and saw him go out. He had a road bike—I’d forgotten that, he’d carry it up and down in the elevator—and Hailey found his cycle clothing amusing. You know what kids are like.”
    Debbie said, “I found it quite amusing, too. All that spandex—it wasn’t a flattering look for him,” She seemed almost back to herself, but then sounded oddly insistent as she said, “Hailey has a great sense of humor.”
    Finn found a response running around in his thoughts, but kept it to himself and said instead, “You said Jonas was spoken to and didn’t know anything? It seems odd that they were such close friends and he didn’t have any inkling.”
    “We thought the same,” said Ethan. “When we first realized she was missing, Jonas was the person we called. He didn’t know where she was, didn’t know she’d run away. Then once it was clear she’d disappeared, the police spoke to her closest friends, including Jonas.”
    “You don’t think he might have been lying, maybe because she’d asked him to?”
    “I doubt it. You know we talked about the possibility of him being, or rather—”
    “Having Asperger’s, yes, I remember.”
    Ethan looked uncomfortable, as if he was now doubting their casual diagnosis, and certainly regretting that they’d mentioned it to someone else.
    “Yes, well, one of the things that makes it seem . . . You see, he doesn’t hold back, he can’t help but say what he’s thinking. He’s just not the kind of kid who lies, and Hailey wouldn’t have asked him to lie because she knows that.”
    “So as close as they are, Hailey probably wouldn’t have told him anything about her plans?”
    Ethan shook his head, acknowledging what he presumably thought was a roadblock. Finn thought it was anything but—Jonas knew something, or suspected something, about the “how” and the “why” of Hailey’s disappearance. The fact that he’d been staring at an empty apartment suggested he didn’t know the “where,” but he still knew more than anyone else.
    Finn stood and said, “Okay, I have a few things I have to do this afternoon, and some things to check out this evening. As ever, if you learn anything in the meantime, please let me know.”
    Debbie looked up at him. “It’s only when things are bad that you learn the truth about people, and who your friends are.”
    He wanted to tell her the real truth, that he didn’t even know why he was doing this, that if Adrienne had still been here he almost certainly wouldn’t have been helping them—he’d have been criticizing Adrienne for getting too involved herself. Perhaps it was simply that his curiosity had filled the gap left by Adrienne, rushing into the vacuum caused by the rather mundane collapse of his own domestic certainties.
    “I’m sure anyone else would have done the same.”
    Ethan showed him out, and Finn drifted back to his apartment. He had nothing to do except wait for the evening and, he hoped, the return of Jonas. He spent a couple of hours reading a densely written book on Pope Innocent III, making notes, knowing he’d use almost none of it.
    After lunch he phoned Mathieu, but Adrienne’s sister-in-law answered.
    “Hello, Cecile—it’s Finn.”
    Cecile’s English