Page 30 of Runner 13
Some of the tightness in my chest releases – an accident. Bad luck, not malice.
A coincidence.
I don’t believe in those.
Mariam brings me back to the present by tightening her grip on my arm. ‘You said he had a notebook? We have afew minutes before we need to start getting ready – we can search.’
I stare at her for a moment, finding it hard to compute what she’s saying. Then I realize she’s right. ‘Yes, yes. It was a red spiral-bound book.’
I pick up a packet of food, still in its plastic bag, neatly labelled with a calorie count. The letters ‘JL’ are written neatly in Sharpie ink in the top right-hand corner. So he was a fastidious labeller too. That will help. I gesture to Mariam and show her the mark. She nods.
We’re not the only people sorting through the detritus. There are other runners out here, combing for their missing items. There doesn’t seem to be much logic to the way the wind has scattered things, and the search field is massive – as large as the desert itself. I find myself following items out past the toilet tents, towards the tufts of bushes that have caught things in their spiked branches.
I feel like a vulture, picking through the bits and pieces of people’s racing lives, discarding anything that doesn’t have that neat ‘JL’ written somewhere. I shed my jacket, wrapping it round my waist – the air is so hot and still that it’s impossible to think this is the same place where the storm happened. More and more racers appear, emerging from their tents bleary-eyed and pale from lack of sleep, preparing for the start of the race. I’m going to have to go back and do that too if I want to make the starting line on time.
But I feel desperate now. I need to find out if Jason knew anything. And that’s when I spot it. Tucked undera bush, half buried in sand. A bright splash of red cover, spiral-bound. ‘JL’ inscribed on the corner.
I reach through to get it, wincing as a thorn scratches my skin and blood beads on the surface. I flick it open, but some of the pages are torn and missing. Still, it’s enough for me to see what he was working on – the Ibiza case, not a surprise.
‘You found something?’ Mariam shouts to me.
I nod, lifting the notebook.
She jogs over. ‘Any clues?’
‘I … I’m not sure.’ It’s hard to read Jason’s tight scrawl, but I recognize the dates that he has circled – the start of the training camp and when various people left. I chew my bottom lip. As far as I can see, he has some pieces of the puzzle but there are still glaring omissions. Stella’s name, for example, is conspicuously absent from the list of people at the Ibiza camp. She’s managed to keep that a secret. No wonder he was finding it so hard to put the picture together.
I turn the pages, taking in the information as quickly as I can.
Finally, I see something that stops me in my tracks.
A note, circled.BLAMES AWFOR GK’SDEATH??
Then the Range Rover licence plate. The same one that had been written on my invitation.
STILL WANTSREVENGE.
But there’s no name. I slam the notebook shut, my heart pounding.
Mariam jerks back. ‘What did it say? I can’t read upside down.’
‘I –’ But I quickly shut my mouth as I see a volunteer wearing a Hot & Sandy vest striding in our direction. It’s Henry, the man who checked me in.
‘I’ll stall him,’ says Mariam, going over to intercept him.
I grab my digital camera from my bag, snapping a few pictures. But I’m running out of time. I turn my body to shield my actions from view and tear out a handful of pages, stuffing them in my pocket.
‘Thank you for searching for his things,’ Henry says as he approaches.
‘No problem,’ I reply, awkwardly dropping the notebook into a plastic garbage bag that he is using to collect anything that belongs to Jason. ‘Any word on how he is?’
‘Not yet. You had better go get ready. The race is going to start in half an hour.’
‘So the race is still happening?’ Mariam asks.
‘Boones is making an announcement in about ten minutes,’ he replies.
‘Boones. Can I speak with him?’ I ask Henry.
