Just Another Missing Person

by Gillian McAllister

Julia cups her face in her hands, two jobs down, one to go, at pushing eight o’clock at night, and thinks about working in a supermarket. But, the thing is, she wouldn’t love anything else. Not like she loves this. And nobody can have a balanced relationship with something they love.

The text to the housemates is what troubles Julia the most. Please come x. That text is a specifically female call to arms, sent with only one intention, Julia thinks: to be rescued. There are things you don’t just know because you’re police: you know them because you’re a woman.

Julia Day. It is now your job to convict Matthew James for the murder of Olivia Johnson. Enclosed are your forensics to plant. They contain his DNA. He resides at 1 Glasgow Place, Portishead.

The man pauses, looking at Julia square on in the mirror. She knows it’s coming. His trump card. The reason he is here. Her instinct spots it before she really can. And now he speaks a single sentence which changes everything. “I know what Genevieve did.” After this, he adds another, so softly she has to strain to hear: “And you.”

And then it happens. The PCSO bends down. The bodycam captures underneath the bed. No glass. Julia’s heart seems to zoom around her chest. She brings a shaking hand to her mouth. It’s over. It’s surely over. She’s a goner.

“My son has been questioned and is still being held here,” I say. Her facial expression doesn’t change, but her eyes seem to sharpen as I speak. “I have some evidence that might assist you. And I wanted you to know: he used to be known as Andrew. Last year, his girlfriend, Sadie, went missing.”