Read Online Searching for Celia by Elizabeth Ridley - Free Book Online Page A

she had decided to die. And knew I’d try to stop her.”
    Before I can respond, a blue-uniformed nurse bustles back into the room, breaking the somber mood. After checking that my cast is dry, she tells me I can leave. “The hand should be X-rayed again in four weeks—the cast can come off in six,” she explains. “You may need to take some paracetamol for the pain.”
    “Let’s get out of here.” Edwina forces a smile as the nurse leaves. “Hospitals are dreadful places.”
    “We can’t,” I reply. “DC Callaway is coming to take my statement.”
    She shrugs. “Well let’s wait outside then and catch her on the way in.”
    After settling my bill with the payment department, Edwina and I walk back toward the elevator and pass a young dark-haired girl, head down, walking in the other direction. Edwina stops suddenly, pivots, and calls out, “Tatiana?”
    The girl stops and looks over her shoulder, her whole body quivering. Edwina beckons me to follow as she approaches the girl. “Tatiana?” she asks again. “It’s Edwina. Celia’s friend.”
    The girl nods slowly, looking terrified.
    “Why are you here?”
    Tatiana stares blankly. Although the size of a ten- or eleven-year-old, her face looks much older with creased eyelids, sallow cheeks, and greasy hair separated into thin strands. She is dressed shabbily in a floor-length denim skirt and a beige hooded sweatshirt, half-zipped, revealing a stained white T-shirt beneath.
    “Where is Sophie?” Edwina asks.
    An expression of relief flits across the girl’s hollow features. “Come,” she says with a nod, clasping Edwina’s hand and guiding us down the corridor.
    At the end we turn to the left, and a short distance later Tatiana stops at the entrance to a small waiting room with muted lights, pastel carpet, and a burbling fish tank. The only person inside the room is a thin blond woman, midthirties, sitting on a dark sofa, shoulders hunched as she stares at a tissue stretched taut between her fists.
    “Excuse me—Sophie?” Edwina asks softly as we enter the room.
    Instantly the woman’s head shoots up and she squints, trying to focus. “Edwina?”
    “Yes. Sophie, this is Dayle Salvesen, Celia’s friend from the States. Dayle, Sophie Jameson. Sophie is the director at Hope House, a charity for homeless women and girls.”
    As we shake, Sophie’s hand is cold and clammy. “Nice to meet you,” I say.
    “Likewise,” she replies, clearing her throat.
    “We passed Tatiana in the corridor,” Edwina says gently. “Sophie, what’s wrong? Why are you here?”
    Sophie pauses, glances uncertainly at Tatiana, then speaks. “It’s Mileva. Celia may have mentioned her. A trafficked sex worker from Ukraine. Someone botched her backstreet abortion two weeks ago and now the surgeons are trying to save her uterus.” Sophie exhales heavily. “She’s fourteen years old.”
    “I’m so sorry.” Looking uncomfortable, Edwina takes a seat beside Sophie and glances up at me.
    I nod.
    “Sophie, I have news that might be upsetting,” Edwina begins. “Celia’s gone missing and may have killed herself.”
    “My God.” Sophie looks up with a start. “What happened?”
    “We’re not certain. Her car was discovered this morning near Waterloo Bridge with a suicide note, but there’s been no sign of Celia.”
    “Well she can’t have killed herself,” Sophie replies with surprising vigor.
    “How can you be sure?” I jump in.
    “She had arranged to meet us tonight at Hope House. Drop off a large package, she said.”
    “Package?” Edwina and I ask in unison.
    “Yes.” Sophie draws a breath.
    “What kind of package?”
    She shrugs. “I’m not certain. But from the way she spoke, I expect she meant money.”

Chapter Eight

    Wednesday
    4:35 p.m.

    “What made you think she was delivering money?” As I step closer, my shadow crosses Sophie’s face and Tatiana scurries to Sophie’s side, guarding her from beside the sofa.
    Sophie frowns.