Something In The Air

Chapter 11 - The Man With The Blank Face

When Maddox arrived back home he immediately headed into his office and, out of force of habit, locked the door behind him. He couldn't fully explain why he did it, because it certainly wasn't as though there was anybody else in the house who could disturb him (unless, of course, one of his clients had managed to get incredibly lost on their way out). Knowing that he was secure and alone in his own personal space, free of distractions from the outside world, did help him to relax and concentrate though and he spent the next hour jotting down barely legible notes in his terrible handwriting onto little scraps of coloured paper and pinning them up on his corkboard.

The wall-mounted 'mind map' was a well-known detective's cliché and even Maddox could admit that he was sceptical about its benefits at first, but after investing in a cheap whiteboard to jot down some of his more eccentric thoughts during his first few cases, he'd quickly grown to appreciate it. At times it felt like an extension of his brain, an additional limbic system where he could process and store memories, leaving his actual brain to think up new ones. Unfortunately, the cheap whiteboard had been A4 size and barely fit for the primary school child it was designed for, so soon after he'd invested in the corkboard which had a surface area larger than his kitchen table and had taken a whole pack of nails to hold in place. He stared at it now, pulling at his straggly beard and mumbling incoherently under his breath as his eyes darted between the different notes, linked together haphazardly by lengths of coloured string.

After several more minutes he turned away and the trance was broken. He picked up his phone, dialled a number and waited for a reply. It came almost instantly.

"Hugo, it's been days since you last called and you've been avoiding all my messages. Please tell me you've found her!"

Megan sounded on the edge of hysteria and Maddox couldn't blame her. The number of texts he'd dismissed over the past few days were almost certainly into double figures. He imagined her sitting by the phone in a darkened room from dawn till dusk, waiting for him to reply and checking the screen for any form of contact every few seconds, tearing her hair out at the mere thought of what might be happening to her twin sister, and he felt sincerely guilty as he tried to correctly phrase his pre-prepared excuse.

"I'm so incredibly sorry, Megan. I've been very busy recently and just couldn't find the right time to speak to you. I won't lie and it's not what you'll want to hear, but as well as working on Sophie's disappearance I've been helping out an old friend with one of his cases and that's been taking up half my time."

"I don't care if you've been helping Donald Trump tie his shoelaces, Hugo!" Megan snapped. "Tell me about Sophie."

Maddox gulped nervously and fell into the chair behind his desk, taken aback by the ferocity of her anger. "Very well, I shall. The first thing you'll want to know is that, regrettably, I haven't found her yet. But I'm trying, Megan, and I'm getting closer, I can promise you that."

"How can you say that, Hugo? How can you be so sure? Please, all I want are some assurances."

"Megan, I'm sorry, all I can give you is my word. But as I told you with the upmost sincerity when I first took on your case, my word is my bond and I stand by that. I know it must be unthinkably frustrating for you to keep on hearing, but I'm getting closer and I'm certain of it. Please, trust me on this." He paused and when Megan didn't reply he quickly whittled through his options. "I think maybe it would help if I fill you in on some of what I've discovered so far."

Straightaway Megan seemed to approve of this better. "Please go ahead, I've got all afternoon... all evening and night if I have to. It's not as if I'd be able to sleep anyway."