The Edge of Sanity by Sheryl Browne

suspected, supplied by the cretin, whose number he’d got.
    He scoured the main dance floor from a balcony. Nothing. His eyes trailed over the paid dancers. Kayla could dance, but she’d hardly be on stage at age fifteen. Daniel raked his hand through his hair, exasperated, and searched the other two floors. He hesitated, the bouncer’s sidekick behind him, then banged into the nearest girls room.
    ‘Whoa!’ The sidekick crashed in after him, causing girls to clamber for cubicles, or huddle back out of the line of fire. ‘You!’ He motioned to Daniel. ‘Out!’
    Daniel didn’t argue. Kayla wasn’t in there, not unless she was standing on the toilet seat. ‘Where are the others?’ he shouted, emerging with the sidekick hot on his heels.
    ‘What?’ The sidekick looked at him askew.
    ‘Toilets. Where are they?’
    The sidekick seemed to debate for a second, then threw his hands in the air, and pointed to the balcony.
    Daniel took the stairs two at a time, then ventured once again into female territory, his eyes picking out every dark-haired girl and searching every face. He got a proposition for his efforts, but no daughter.
    Frustrated, he left—the girls chattering excitedly behind him, ducked under the spiral staircase and checked the two bars on the balcony, followed by the downstairs bar and, finally, the chill out room. He could see at a glance why it was called that, kids slumped on sofas, chilling out, i.e. coming down, after their exertions on the dance floor.
    No Kayla, though, not a sign. Daniel might have been playing cat and mouse. She wasn’t likely to be standing in one place. But then, she might not be here at all, even if his every instinct told him otherwise. Maybe she wasn’t.
    Beaten, he heaved through the crowd towards the exit, back past the main bar—and locked eyes with Mr Big Shot himself, the shit-dealing lowlife from outside.
    ****
    ‘What’s that freakin’ weirdo lookin’ at?’ Charlie dragged his contempt away from the bloke who was looking him over, and turned his attention back to pulling the bird with the blonde hair down to her bum. Great. Now she was eyeing up the geezer who was eyeing him up, despite Charlie having doled out a generous amount of quality crack to the silly cow.
    That irritated Charlie. He wasn’t too enamoured of people muscling in on his territory. Pulling birds and pushing drugs was what Charlie did, and that big bastard was cramping his style. What was even more irritating, freaky even, was that he wasn’t looking in any particular way. Just sort of looking. No expression whatsoever.
    Nah, he was getting paranoid. Coming down probably. And the bloke was obviously wasted. Charlie shrugged and looked away. He’d come over if he needed some gear. Meanwhile, he flashed the bird he had his eye on a tab and reeled her back in.

Chapter Six
    ‘Jo, I can’t hear you.’ Daniel clamped a hand over his ear, in a useless attempt to shut out the deafening throb of music.
    ‘I said …’ Jo’s response was lost on the noise.
    This was impossible. ‘Jo, hold on,’ he shouted, heading for the exit.
    ‘What’s happened?’ he asked once outside, panic rising in his chest. ‘Is she all right?’
    ‘Yes, she … Daniel, where were you?’
    ‘A nightclub. I went in to—’
    ‘Oh.’ Jo said over him.
    ‘Jo …’ Daniel shook his head, frustrated. Was he hearing her right? That short word carried a whole lot of insinuation. Did Jo really think he’d gone in there for kicks? ‘I was looking for Kayla, Jo, not for a good time.’
    ‘Yes. Yes, of course you were. I’m sorry, Daniel, I … Look, you can stop looking. She’s fine.’
    Daniel closed his eyes. ‘Is she home?’
    ‘No.’ Jo hesitated. ‘She’s not coming home, Daniel.’
    What? Daniel turned full circle on the pavement. ‘What do you mean, not coming home?’
    ‘Tonight, she meant. I’m sorry. I’m not thinking straight. She said she’d be back tomorrow.’
    Daniel massaged his