“When news of this gets out, it’s going to play hell with reputation,” Green said. “Stanley lied. Sophie lied.”
“To protect Dmytro!” Ava said, snapping back around.
“Yeah?” Green asked. “Why him? Why not think about all the others? He’s put everyone in jeopardy, and not just at Fresh Start. What about Maryam? What about your kids?”
Ava made a noise of disgust, almost a bark.
“I asked him that, myself,” she said, finally drinking the tea—possibly to hide a look of white-hot anger. It reflected in her eyes, anyway.
“Did he give you an answer? He didn’t, did he? He didn’t give us much of one, either.” Green unfolded the sketch again. “You know what I think? I think this woman is key to a whole lot about a whole lot. I want to know who she is, and I want you to tell me.”
MacAdams braced himself, but Ava didn’t erupt. She looked honestly confused.
“I told you, I don’t recognize her,” she said.
Green nodded. “I know. And I believe you meant it. I just don’t think it’strue.” She held up the page to the light. A roundedface, strong jaw but pointed chin, broad nose and almond eyes beneath dark brows. “Do you remember what you said? You asked if she was a refugee. Why?”
“It was a guess—she had dark hair, dark eyes—”
Green bucked her chin. “You said it because youdorecognize her, unconsciously, at least. She remindsyou of Maryam.”
Ava bristled. “Because she’s Syrian? So what, you’re saying I think all Syrians look the same?”
“Ava, listen to yourself. I didn’t say this woman was Syrian. But you just did.”
“It’s where the artifacts came from, the papers said. I just—It’s coincidence,” Ava remonstrated.
“Is it?” MacAdams asked. “Or are these matters all connected? You saw that face and you thought of Maryam. We told you this girl is in trouble; you said all refugees are in trouble. So maybe you should tell us why Maryam remains frightened of the police?”
“It was just a filing error—it’s been sorted—she has a passport and everything!” Ava said, which told MacAdams at least half of what he wanted to know.
“Her entry into this country was complicated, is that it?”
“But not illegal!” Ava said, though without the firm conviction she’d used a few days before.
Green nodded in her direction. “Well,somethingillegal is happening here. And meanwhile, we have a missing person on our hands. If I were you, Ms. Burnhope, I’d get a solicitor. For yourself, the kids and Maryam, too.”
Ava’s glassy eyes held unfallen tears, but the line of her mouth was surprisingly resolute.
“Call me Ms.Thompson, please.”
Chapter 29
Thursday, 18:37
Jo stared down an empty street. They had been following the yellow raincoat for ten minutes. Yellow like Caution, or Slippery When Wet; it should have been easy to track. It wasn’t. The woman never stopped, rarely slowed and moved with erratic cadence... almost as if she knew someone followed behind and had every intent of losing them.
Now she had.
Jo leaned against a light post and overlooked Grey’s Monument.
“Gone,” she muttered, lifting her left foot. There had been entirely too much walking all day, and a newborn blister was forming. Gwilym rolled his shirtsleeves. The evening promised to be cool, but they’d both worked up a sweat in the chase.
“Maybe she went into one of the shops?” he asked. Jo looked at her flagging phone battery and frowned.
“According to GPS, we’ve been heading south and east pretty directly,” she said, showing the blue line of their recent movements. Gwilym had tucked Aiden’s notebook under his arm and followed along on his own mobile.
“So not as random as it felt,” he said. “She must have a destination in mind. I mean, she might even live around here.”