The Disappearance of Katie Wren by Amy Cross

again step in my way. A moment later, the ambulance's doors are slammed shut. “I've seen them before.”
    “What have you seen before, M'am?”
    “In my daughter's apartment,” I continue, turning to him. I know I'm gabbling, but I can't quite get my thoughts together. I'm so relieved that the body wasn't Katie, but now I feel as if I've finally managed to make the police listen to me. “I've seen them on the wall! Painted on the wall in thick black paint! All the symbols and the signs, and the letters that don't make any sense! They're on the wall where the crow was flying around!”
    “Right.” He pauses, as if he's not quite sure what to say. “M'am, I'm going to have to speak to someone and get back to you.”
    “Was it in the water?” I ask.
    “Was what in the water?”
    “The man's head! The poor soul you just fished out! Where was his real head?”
    “M'am, I'd like you to come with me,” he replies, placing a hand on my arm, “and I'll find someone who can talk to you. If you have any information about what's happened here, it's very important that you tell us.”
    “Are there any more?”
    “Any more what?”
    Turning, I hurry to the edge of the river and look down. The helicopter's spotlight is just about able to pick out a trio of police divers who are conferring down at the bottom of the rusty old ladder, and a moment later they go back down beneath the water's murky surface. I stare for a moment, imagining what it must be like for them in the darkness below, but after a few seconds I feel another hand on my arm and I turn to find several police officers standing behind me. Evidently I've finally begun to attract attention.
    “M'am,” one of them says firmly, “I need you to come with me right now.”
    “Did you find her?” I ask, unable to stifle a flutter of hope.
    “Did we find who , M'am?”
    “My daughter. Did you find Katie?”
    “I'm afraid I don't know the specifics of that particular case,” the officer continues, “but this is a crime scene and I really need to secure the area. It's very important that you come with me.”
    I let them lead me away from the water's edge. Ahead, the crowd has grown slightly, but the ambulance is already driving away with its hideous, monstrous cargo. I keep replaying that awful sight over and over in my mind, and I honestly don't think I've ever seen anything so ghastly in all my life. At the same time, my sense of horror is beginning to give way to anger that none of these fools can tell me anything about the hunt for Katie. It's almost as if they don't give a damn about my girl.
    “Technically,” the female officer explains as she lifts the police tape for me to step under, “by forcing your way onto the crime scene, you were interfering with police work. I could arrest you for that and cart you off to the station.”
    “Oh, don't be absurd,” I stammer. “I had to be sure it wasn't Katie, that's all. And the oaf I talked to when I got here wasn't telling me anything at all. Nobody is telling me anything!”
    “I believe that oaf was me, M'am.”
    I turn to her and realize she might be right.
    “I'm sorry,” I continue, “I didn't...”
    I hesitate for a moment, wondering how to explain. I feel as if every police officer in the whole of London should be on Katie's case, tearing through the city until they find her. It's almost offensive to see that they have other things to investigate, other jobs to do. I know I should try to be calmer, and more polite, but suddenly I spot a pair of familiar faces at the far end of the crowd. I freeze, convinced that I must be wrong, but the faces are grinning at me and it's quite clear that they know who I am.
    “What are they doing here?” I stammer.
    “I'm sorry, M'am? Who are you talking about?”
    “Those two!” I yell, pointing at Fernando and Agnes. Suddenly I feel so angry again, I'm worried I might shake apart. “What are they doing out on the streets again?”
    The officer turns and