I’m perching on one of them, wondering how much longer I’ll be here. The place feels cramped, claustrophobic, and smells faintly of some kind of floor cleaner. The desk sergeant nods when I glance in his direction. “She won’t be long now.” You said that half an hour ago, I think, examining the posters on the wall. One is for a missing teenager, a boy with scruffy blond hair and startling blue eyes, who disappeared a couple of years back from a seaside town I’ve never heard of. The other has photos and identikits of various people suspected of committing crimes. All of them are men, and all look shifty, like actors playing villains in a film. But none of them the man I’ve captured in my picture. I power up the phone I’m clutching in my hand, check the battery icon on the screen again. There should be enough charge. I’m almost at the point of giving up on the whole idea when PC Wilson bursts through the door.
What do You think about Better Left Buried (2014)?
