“Shit,” I said. Dina had been missing for an hour, minimum. There was nothing I could do about it for at least another couple of hours, until Richie and I were done with Fiona. The thought of what could happen to Dina in that amount of time made me feel like my heart was trying to beat against thick mud. “Shitfucking fuck.”

I didn’t realize I had stopped moving till I saw Richie, a couple of steps ahead, turned around to watch me. He said, “Everything OK, yeah?”

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “It’s not work-related. I just need a minute to clear things up.” Richie opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could get it out I had turned my back on him and was heading back down the footpath, at a pace that told him not to follow.

Geri picked up on the first ring. “Mick? Is she with you?”

“No. What time did she leave?”

“Oh, God. I was hoping—”

“Don’t panic. She could be at my place, or at my work—I’ve been out in the field all afternoon. What time did she leave?”

“Half past four, about. Sheila’s mobile rang and it was Barry, that’s her boyfriend, so she went up to her room just for privacy, and when she came down Dina was gone. She wrote, ‘Thanks, bye!’ on the fridge with her eyeliner, and this outline of her hand underneath, waving, like. She took Sheila’s wallet, it had sixty euros in it, so she’s got money, anyway … As soon as I got home and Sheila told me, I drove all round the neighborhood, looking for her—I swear I looked everywhere, I was going into shops and looking into people’s gardens and all—but she was gone. I didn’t know where else to look. I’ve rung her a dozen times, but her phone’s off.”

“How did she seem, this afternoon? Was she getting pissed off with you, or with Sheila?” If Dina had got bored … I tried to remember whether she had mentioned Jezzer’s surname.

“No, she was better! Much better. Not angry, not scared, not getting wound up—she was even making sense, most of the time. She seemed a bit distracted, like, not really paying attention when you talked to her; like she had something on her mind. That was all.” Geri’s voice was spiraling higher. “She was practically grand, Mick, honest to God she was, I was positive she was on her way up or I’d never have left her with Sheila, never …”

“I know you wouldn’t. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“She’s not fine, Mick. She’s not. Fine is the last thing she is.”

I glanced over my shoulder: Richie was leaning against the car door with his hands in his pockets, facing up into the building sites to give me privacy. “You know what I mean. I’m sure she just got bored and headed to a friend’s house. She’ll turn up tomorrow morning, with croissants to show you she’s sorry—”