Read Cherringham--The Vanishing Tourist for Free Online Page B

name?” Jack said going over to mum and baby, and rubbing the little girl’s left hand.
    And then — almost looking like a moment of trust — the baby’s fingers splayed open, and Jack moved his index finger into the opening as the tiny fingers closed on it.
    “Marie,” Karen said.
    The woman stood there, waiting for them to ask their questions. Though there were two small easy chairs in the miniature sitting room, both were dotted with burp cloths and empty bottles awaiting the next round of washing and refilling.
    So much work.
    “Thank you for talking to us, Karen.”
    The woman guarded, just nodding.
    “The man we’re looking for walked down Barrows Lane. But he never came back. At least not by the bridge.”
    The woman's eyes went from Sarah to Jack.
    “How do you know that?”
    Interesting question to ask , Sarah thought.
    “The bridge has a CCTV camera,” Sarah explained. “Jen Buckland — you know her?”
    A nod.
    “She let us look at the footage. We saw this man, Patrick O’Connor walk down the road from Cherringham, then turn down the lane.”
    “But,” Jack added, “he never came back.”
    Silence from the woman. The baby had calmed down completely and, now balanced on her mother's hip, just watched the conversation.
    “Did you see anyone? H ave you seen anyone? Around here?”
    Karen shook her head.
    Quick answer , thought Sarah.
    Then — as if the young mother felt that the headshake wasn't enough:
    “Nobody comes down here. I mean, once in a while someone comes to fish the stream. But that’s in summer.”
    “Must be kind of lonely for you?” Jack said. “All by yourself …”
    The woman shifted the baby to her other hip.
    “Why not have a seat?” Sarah said.
    The woman took the suggestion, pushing aside the burp cloths on one chair and sat down. “I’ll need to fix her a bottle soon.”
    Then the woman looked at her baby with a look that clearly said this was the most precious thing on the planet. “But she's good now, I think.”
    “Maybe she likes having company,” Jack said with a smile.
    Sarah thought of Jack's daughter. No granddaughter for him yet. That would be a big change, she imagined.
    Big enough change that he might leave here . L eave Cherringham to go back home, to be close?
    She didn't like that thought.
    “You've been here a while?” Jack asked.
    “Since before baby was born,” Karen said.
    “And,” he looked around the cottage, “do you know what’s out here? I mean if we kept walking past where the lane ends?”
    “Just fields,” she said. “Nothing really. Some farms on the other side of the woods. Eventually the main road.”
    Jack nodded. “No reason anyone would walk out that way?”
    Another head shake.
    “That's what I thought,” he said.
    Finally Jack reached into his back pocket and pulled out one of the photographs that he had of Patrick O’Connor.
    “This is the man, by the way.”
    He handed the print to the woman and as she took it; her baby Marie also reached for it, making a swiping grasp at it that left one corner crumpled.
    Sarah watched this carefully.
    Would she look at the picture or just glance, as though it was something unwanted?
    But the young mother did look at it. Carefully, before she slowly passed it back to Jack.
    “Guess, if you see him you can give us a call?”
    Sarah pulled out one of the business cards.
    “My mobile’s on there. You can just leave a message.”
    Then Jack turned to Sarah. “Guess we better get going?”
    Sarah nodded, then took a step, and lightly brushed the top of the baby girl’s head.
    “She's beautiful.”
    That made the woman smile.
    “I know. I love her so much.”
    Jack had walked to the door. The cottage might be small and, like any place dealing with nappies and feedings, probably a mess most of the time.
    But not a bad refuge for a mother and her not yet one-year-old daughter , Sarah thought.
    “Thanks for speaking to us,” Jack said.
    “Yes, thanks,” Sarah added.
    The