The Pursuit of Emma, Dave Moyer [best contemporary novels txt] 📗

I really want to involve her anymore? I didn’t have the energy for answering any more questions and I didn’t want to worry her. I decided on a public phone box. They couldn’t bug that surely? Especially if I got four different tubes and travelled well over an hour to find one.

So that was my method of contacting him sorted. Now, how could I get there? I must have tried on twenty different outfits, all in various shades of black. I looked like a trendy ninja. Finally a difficult decision fell on me. How can I hide my face? I had an old balaclava from when I went paintballing with Jack and the lads and pondered using it for a second. As much as it prevented the detection of my face I realised I would stand out more. All the ‘bad guys’ would have to look out for was a crazy man walking through the centre of London in a balaclava. I decided against it. My Spiderman face mask met the same fate. It occurred to me that I could pass through town relatively hassle-free with a hoody on and even blend in with the crowd. Good idea.

My first problem was that I’d fallen behind on my washing since Emma left and the only item resembling a hoody in my wardrobe was tight and bright purple. I was stuck in limbo. This clearly broke basic rule three but it did seem to help me. Mentally I flipped a coin, decided it was heads, decided that was stupid, decided I should make a decision and decided to wear the hoody. I put in on. To be on the safe side I grabbed a pair of sunglasses, despite the fact that it was overcast and that they were Emma’s. I hit the road.

So that was why, over an hour later, I stood huddled in an old fashioned phone box carefully dialling in Jack’s number. I was sure nobody was around me, listening, but it didn’t stop me spinning around every few seconds. I couldn’t have looked much shiftier if I’d tried.

My nerves were on end. I had taken six different tubes in the end to comfort my paranoia, treating everyone that wasn’t an old lady with contempt and distrust. One young lady had the misfortune of swapping lines at the same time as me, making her the subject of some of my most appalling glances. I began sneaking a peak at her once in a while until I was convinced she looked like the sort that worked for a corrupt organisation and I felt she was looking at me far too often. No wonder with how I looked. I decided to counter her glares with some of my own and wanted to show her I was fearless and determined. I think the look I accidentally conveyed fell somewhere between horny and constipated.

The phone began to ring and I could feel the desperation in my breathing. ‘Please pick up. Please pick up,’ I whispered to myself. Where they watching me now? What if they could hear this? Oh God, Jack, please pick up!

‘Hello, Jack Williams speaking.’

I lost my nerve. I couldn’t risk anyone hearing what I wanted to tell Jack. I couldn’t do this over the phone.

‘Jack, hi. I need your help,’ I started breathlessly. There was a pause for a second until my voice registered.

‘Tom, is that you? Hi, how are you? What’s up?’

‘I can’t talk here Jack, trust me. Can we meet up? Please, I need your help.’

‘Jesus, Tom what’s going on? Are you hurt? What’s wrong?’

‘I can’t say here Jack please,’ I implored him. ‘Can we meet up this afternoon? In a couple of hours!’

‘Tom?’

‘Please. Can we meet where we used to play as kids?’ He could hear the panic in my voice, but I tried to sound as strong as possible.

‘Um... I guess. What is going on buddy? You can tell me.’

‘Not now. Later. Meet me at the place we used to play OK? Do you remember?’

‘I remember Tom.’

‘In two hours?’

‘I’ll be there.’

‘Thanks Jack. I promise I’ll explain everything then.’

‘You better.’

I hung up. I realised how paranoid I must have sounded on the phone but at least I had his attention. If there was one person I knew could help me, it was Jack. I raced out of the phone box, checked I wasn’t being tailed and headed for home. I was going to have to dig out my car, which due to living in London, hadn’t been freed from our storage lockup for months. I just hoped it had enough petrol to get it started.

*****

The swings felt exactly like I remembered. I ran my hand over the cold metal and rested my weight on one of the worn, rubber seats. The ‘place we played as kids’ was overgrown, unkempt and clearly unloved. It wasn’t that way when I was growing up.

There is a housing development in Leamington Spa, a small town in Warwickshire, where I spent my childhood. The house was nothing special but then neither was my parents' income so we made do with what we had. We definitely didn’t have it tough growing up but there was nothing extravagant about anything we owned. The house was one of a terraced row and seemed decidedly smaller and shabbier than its neighbours. We only had two bedrooms but then it was just myself and the ‘folks’ so we got by.

I don’t want to paint a negative picture of my childhood. It was good; it’s just that I had to search elsewhere for my entertainment as every spare inch in the house was used for storage (Dad was obsessed). This is why Jack and I ventured out around the development in search of our ‘safe haven’. We found a set of swings that weren’t in perfect working order. This was perfect for us. Nobody bothered to use them so we knew they were always free and it was fairly secluded as the council had planted large shrubberies around the estate in an attempt to make it more attractive. We were shaded by a dense collection of trees and bushes which meant we could do what we wanted. As young children Jack would come over (he only lived 3 streets away and went to the same school) and we'd play for hours on the swings, trying to make them work. If you pushed hard enough they would rock noisily.

As we got older we sat on the swings more ironically I guess and used to pretend we were too cool for them. It never stopped us using them and I certainly never stopped enjoying them. It must have looked strange to see boys in their late teenage years sitting on swings but I realised I must look even more bizarre now.

I had made it up to Warwickshire in good time and was early. I knew Jack would be here presently and I was grateful for once to just relax and catch my breath. I was beginning to calm down. Perhaps it was my ‘safe haven’ that was easing my worries. I had been so consumed by fear and confusion over the last... well... month really and I needed to just pause for a minute. I felt like laughing, though I’m not sure why. Nothing had got better. There was no proof that Jack could help me but I definitely felt calmer. I couldn’t wait to see him.

Jack appeared suddenly from around the trees and stood in front of me, smiling kindly. He wasn’t wearing a police uniform like the last time I saw him, but I had spoken to him several times and I knew he'd been promoted. He was wearing a sharp suit that was cut to fit him perfectly and emphasised his athletic figure. I knew he was now a detective or something although the exact job title always evades me.

I stood up smiling, feeling happier than I had in a long time, and hugged him strongly. We let go and he sat on the creaky swing next to me.

‘Right Tom talk to me,’ he said, taking control of the situation. ‘Are you implicated in anything illegal?’

‘What? Do I seem like the sort?’ I asked, in mock-anger.

‘I’m serious. If you’ve done anything wrong tell me now.’ It was clear he wasn’t here to mess around. I must have worried him on the phone.

‘No, no Jack. I haven’t done anything wrong, I swear.’

‘So it’s about Emma then?’ I guess it wasn’t a hard situation to deduce but it impressed me that he knew anyway.

‘Yes. Jack I think I’m in danger. I’ve been digging into Emma’s disappearance and something’s wrong.’

‘Tom, I know you want to find Emma and make things right but are you sure this is good for you?’

‘It’s a bit late for that. I’ll tell you everything I know but you have to promise not to say anything. Just listen until I’ve got everything out. Can you promise me that?’

Jack could sense this was a big deal and nodded silently. I told him everything I could think of and tried to order the information as best I could. I went over her false job, the lack of family, the footage of our wedding, the imaginary Reverend and the phone-call, all with impeccable detail. By the end of my story Jack looked white as a sheet but he kept to his word and stayed quiet.

‘I was just starting to think I was going mad or they were coincidences and I was going to just move on I swear, but how can I after that call?’ I finished. ‘What does the call even mean? Has she been kidnapped? Is she OK? I can’t stop until I know she’s alive.’

Jack stood up swiftly as if making a decision. ‘Don’t read too much into the call. I don’t know why they phoned or who they are but it could be anything. What if she heard you were looking for her and got one of her mates to warn you off, for example?’

I hadn’t thought of that. Since the phone call, I had kept a burning desire that Emma had been taken against her will and she didn’t want to go. At least then she could still love me.

‘It just makes no sense, mate. She faked her whole life including your wedding and leaves you a note. Doesn’t sound like a kidnapping. Sounds more like she’s been planning it from the start,’ he said, before adding, ‘Sorry mate.’

‘I know you’re right deep down, Jack. I’m just too afraid to admit it.’

‘Not a chance,’ I interrupted. Jack looked taken aback but I wasn’t listening. ‘I’m sorry Jack, I know you only want to help but I can’t. I need to keep looking, not just hide. What if she is in trouble for a reason I can’t explain and I go straight to the police. They will know. I have to go home as normal, live life as normal and work out my plan from there.’

Jack tried to convince me otherwise but I wasn’t having any of it.

‘I came to you because I thought you’d listen. I want your advice not to be taken in by the police. Please try and understand.’

‘Fine Tom, I don’t like it but I know what you’re like when Emma is involved. You won’t stop at anything. But I warn you now; I can’t protect you if you don’t come in with me. You understand that, don’t you?’ He looked worried but tried to hide it from me.

‘I do Jack, and thanks.’

‘So...what can I do to help?’

I thought for a second and racked my brains for any police resources that might help me.

‘Right, I know. Can you run her name in the computer? See if any hits come up with any information that could help. Then why don’t you and Rachel come down for the weekend to London? Come have some food or something. It would be nice to have the company and you can check the flat and see if