“Be careful, the streets aren't what they were.” someone had sung out as Iain Doyle turned away from the large group of vagrants gathered within the fringes of a disused industrial site.
“Thanks, I will” he called back giving a wave of appreciation and farewell as he once again navigated his way through the Parisian inner-city. It was the fourth night he had spent out on the streets attempting to source information from those who knew it best. A large portion of the homeless with whom he spoke were aware of the disappearances, and could even give the names of others whom had suddenly vanished, but they couldn't offer anything to help attribute the cause.
He arrived back at the flat just as the first rays of the dawn began streaking their way across the city. Peeling off his tattered disguise, he indulged in a brief shower. Moving into the guest room, Iain placed the discarded garments into a garbage bag hoping to cover up the smell of smoke from hours of standing around shanty fires. He gave his hair one last run over with the towel before hanging it over the banister and dropping his body onto the bed with an exhausted sigh. He pulled up the covers and allowed his mind one last moment to ponder the task ahead.
It was barely a week prior that he was back in Dublin. A freelance journalist by trade, he had been putting together a final draft of his latest story when an email flashed up on the screen and caught his eye.
Iain,
Not sure where you may be at the moment but have some news.
Sabrina has been found. She is not in a good way. No one can put
together what happened. If you could find the time to come and
visit, I would greatly appreciate your opinion on the matter.
Jai
Iain exhaled deeply as he re-read the message. Jai was an old friend from college. Tall and athletic with broad shoulders and a chin to match. Academic study was never his forte, and when an injury put him out of contention for a professional rugby stint he opted to get out of the country and joined the French Foreign Legion. After five years of service in its furthest reaches, Jai was given a station in Paris. It was here that he met Sabrina Vogel. She was in charge of The Marion Benneteau Foundation, a charity that worked with the homeless, that was until a fortnight ago when she went missing without a trace.
He booked a flight for the following morning and was met by a dishevelled looking Jai at the airport.
“Thanks for coming,” Jai hugged Iain tightly. The current sight of him was a bit of a shock to Iain. From the unkept stubble to the unevenly buttoned shirt, this was not the Jai that he remembered.
“Anytime. What's the latest?” Jai reached down and picked up Iain's carry on bag.
“It's easier if I just show you.”
The Dupré Psychiatric Institute was where Sabrina was being housed at present. Iain took in the stale smelling room as he entered from the hall. A small table in the corner contained flowers in a vase and some cards on display. A chair was placed on either side of the room with a steel hospital bed taking up the middle. Strapped down into the bed, vacantly staring at the ceiling was Sabrina. Jai walked over and placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead.
“Told you I'd be back,” he gestured for Iain to approach the bedside.
“And look who I've brought to see you. You remember Iain.” Standing by the bed opposite Jai, Iain grabbed Sabrina's hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I'm glad you're okay Sabrina,” he glanced across at Jai hoping for an explanation.
“She was brought into the hospital late last week suffering hypothermia and falling in and out of consciousness. When they were able to stabilise her she came to and attacked a nurse. No harm was done but she was later transferred here. They've had her heavily sedated since. I just wish I knew what happened to her.”
