Anything for Her by Jack Jordan Page A

raises the blind, allowing sunlight to burst into the room. When her eyes adjust to the light, she can see the truck towing away her car. DI Dean had told her this would happen: the car would be photographed extensively, before being whisked away.
    DI Jessica Dean stayed until gone three a.m., asking her continuous probing questions about Brooke, Michael, herself; every aspect of Louise’s life was torn from her mind and scribbled down on the detective’s small pad. She left no stone unturned.
    What time did Brooke go missing? Which way wasshe travelling? Where was the exact spot that you last saw her at the station?
    Can you tell me as much as you can regarding Brooke’s medical history, including any conditions she currently has and any medication she is taking?
    What was Brooke wearing when she went missing? What colour? What style? What size? How about her hair? What condition? Was she wearing it up or down? Ponytail or plait? What sort of blonde? Dark blonde? Bleach blonde? Golden? Length? Thickness?
    How was she acting before she went missing? How did she seem to be feeling? Would she ever wish to harm herself?
    Does Brooke have any distinguishing marks on her body? Tattoos? Birthmarks? Moles? Scars?
    What is her personality like? Introvert? Extrovert? What are her personal philosophies and beliefs?
    Where does she frequently visit? A favourite coffee shop? Night club? Department store? Newsagents?
    Who would she contact if she were to call or visit anyone? I need a list of names, numbers and addresses. Anyone and everyone you can possibly think of
.
    Louise felt completely overwhelmed, even forgetting answers to some of the questions she should definitely know. When asked what Brooke had been wearing when she went missing, Louise visualised Brooke walking into the station and turning back for one lastlook, holding her hand up to wave. Every time she tried to focus on an item of clothing her daughter wore, her mind went blank.
    Louise realised that she hardly knows her daughter at all. She has no idea what she believes in or what her philosophies are. She doesn’t know her blood type. She doesn’t know any of her friends’ names or numbers. She can’t remember if Brooke has a birthmark, or if she has a tattoo.
    Upon leaving, Jessica had told her she would be back again this morning to develop a plan to find Brooke: ‘Begin the investigation,’ she had said.
    Louise opens the window, allowing the cold December air to rush into the room. She sits on the bed and sighs. She lights a cigarette. The smoke curls into the air, creeps towards the window and darts to the left with the wind.
    Ever since Louise found out Brooke was missing, she hasn’t stopped smoking. Ashtrays litter the house, filled to the brim with odorous ash, as she no longer feels brave enough to smoke outside. She takes a drag on the cigarette, and coughs it out before she can inhale, startled by her phone vibrating on the bedside table.
    Michael’s name flashes on the screen.
    She cannot ignore him any longer – not now Brooke is missing.
    Her heart begins to pound furiously. She can’t bearto hear his voice. She loathes him, yet she loves him. She can’t stand him, yet she hates being apart from him. She promises herself never to set eyes on him again, but constantly sees him in her dreams.
    She answers the phone, but is too nervous to speak.
    ‘Hello? Louise?’ He sounds surprised that she answered.
    ‘Hi.’
    Michael sighs with relief.
    ‘Thank you for picking up. I’ve been going out of my mind.’
    ‘About Brooke?’
    ‘Yes. About you, too. I’ve missed you so much.’
    ‘This isn’t about us, Michael. It’s about Brooke now.’
    ‘Of course,’ he replies, clearing his throat. ‘Is she with you? Did you get my messages? My calls?’
    ‘She isn’t with me. Her phone is off.’
    ‘I know,’ he says, his voice riddled with concern. ‘I’ve been calling it all night.’
    ‘I’ve spoken to the police,’ she says.
    ‘You