Kitabı oxu: «Little Girl Gone: A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns»
Little Girl Gone
STEPHEN EDGER
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www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Copyright © Stephen Edger 2018
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com
Stephen Edger asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © November 2018 ISBN: 9780008320607
Version: 2018-11-29
For Hannah, Emily, and Ethan, my world
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Epilogue
A Message From Stephen
Keep Reading
Acknowledgements
Also by Stephen Edger
About the Author
About the Publisher
1
The wipers squawked as they battled to keep the windscreen clear.
‘I’m going to be late,’ Alex Granger muttered to herself, as she strained to see through the gap in the condensation rapidly rising in front of her. Glancing down momentarily she switched the blower to full, the sound of the rushing warm air drowning out the radio.
A giggle from the back seat caused Alex to look up at the rear-view mirror. ‘At least you’re happy enough,’ she said, adding a smile as her eyes met the blonde girl grinning back at her.
A car horn sounded from behind, the driver gesticulating that the traffic lights had finally turned green. Raising her hand in acknowledgement, Alex lowered the handbrake and moved forward, looking left and right for the name of the road where the car park was located. And as if her prayers had been answered, she spotted a large blue ‘P’ on the next street sign, and indicated to the right. The driver behind gave a second blast of his horn as he swerved around her.
‘What’s the hurry, arsehole?’ Alex shouted at the window, suddenly realizing that Carol-Anne could hear. Looking back at the reflection of her two-year-old daughter, Alex quickly apologized. ‘Just ignore Mummy’s crazy words.’
Carol-Anne giggled again.
The windscreen still wasn’t clearing, and as Alex spotted the entrance to the car park up ahead, she realized the car’s fans weren’t even aimed at the windscreen. Adjusting the dial, she silently cursed Ray for not putting them back. Her husband had borrowed her car the night before to go to the gym, and she was certain he must have interfered with the way she liked the car to be set up; she’d had to move the seat forward when she first got in that afternoon. She’d remind him when she saw him later, she thought. Right now there were more important things to worry about, like finding a parking space, dropping Carol-Anne at the crèche, and running to her interview. She should have phoned ahead and postponed the interview when traffic had been far heavier than she’d anticipated. It had been the only interview she’d been offered out of the dozen or so jobs she’d applied for in the previous three months, and she hadn’t wanted to make the wrong first impression. Arriving late wouldn’t be a good start though either, she knew.
‘Think positively,’ Alex reminded herself, as she pulled the car through the entrance and began to hunt for a free space.
Carol-Anne giggled and sang away to herself in the back.
‘Tell Mummy if you see an empty space,’ Alex hummed along, as she glanced left and right, completing a full tour of the single-level car park, reaching the exit without luck. She was about to give up when she spotted a yellow umbrella, moving towards one of the cars behind them. Reversing towards the bright glow, Alex lowered the passenger window and called out, ‘Are you going?’
The woman beneath the umbrella looked over and smiled. ‘Yes, in a minute. Do you want my space?’
‘Please, you’re a lifesaver.’ Reversing further to allow enough space for the SUV to pull out, Alex waited for the woman to lower the umbrella, duck into the car and finally drive away.
‘Someone up there must be smiling down on us today,’ Alex mused at Carol-Anne’s reflection; although whoever it was, they could have done something about the weather; arriving looking like a drowned rat wouldn’t help her nail that first impression.
With the SUV finally clear of the space, Alex manoeuvred into it, and killed the engine. ‘Right, that’s the first task complete, now to get a ticket …’ Her words trailed off, as she scanned the car park for the ticket machine, eventually spotting the bright orange machine back over by the entrance. It seemed so far to have to carry Carol-Anne in such horrible weather. There seemed no let-up in the rain sweeping wildly across the car park.
Deciding there was only really one option that would save time and keep Carol-Anne dry, she swivelled round in her seat. ‘Do you think you could be super good for Mummy? I need to go and buy a ticket from that machine over there,’ she said, pointing to where she meant. ‘If I lock the doors, do you think you could sit here really quietly while I go and get it? You’ll have to sit perfectly still so you don’t trigger the alarm. Can you do that for Mummy?’
Carol-Anne blinked back, oblivious to what Alex had asked.
‘No, I can’t do that,’ Alex answered for herself biting her nail. ‘I’ll just have to get you out and bring you with me. It was a stupid idea.’
Turning back, she checked the handbrake was on and ran through the checklist in her mind, before snatching up her handbag from the front seat and reaching for the door handle. But as she prised the door open, a strong gust forced it closed again.
‘Oh, this is just crazy! Does the weather not realize I have a really important interview in twenty – no, correction, eighteen – minutes?’
Her phone bleeped, and the display showed that Ray had sent her a good luck message. He knew how much this opportunity meant to her, and he was doing his best to be supportive, even if he didn’t agree that her returning to work was the best thing for them at this point.
Staring at Carol-Anne’s reflection in the mirror again, she reconsidered her options, before biting the bullet. Removing her purse, she dropped the handbag on the passenger seat, forced her door open and darted into the rain, remote locking the car as she sprinted through the puddles, cursing as the water splashed against her suit trousers.
Was it too late to phone and let them know she was running late? Would they judge her as a poor time-keeper? She’d always been so punctual when she’d worked before giving birth. Ever since Carol-Anne had arrived, she’d found getting anything done on time a struggle. It wasn’t that she’d suddenly become disorganized overnight, there just always seemed to be some kind of hurdle she’d failed to envisage. Like Carol-Anne soiling her nappy the moment they’d got in the car this afternoon, and the mad dash back into the house to change her.
Blinking against the rain, she shielded her eyes as she stared back at her small grey hatchback, tempted to run back and check that none of the hideous outcomes her paranoid mind was picturing had befallen her daughter. And as if to heighten her paranoia, the car’s alarm sounded in a flurry of orange light. Carol-Anne would be terrified by the sudden cacophony. Splashing back a few steps, she killed the alarm with the remote.
Scanning the full car park, she saw there wasn’t a soul in sight, and with time against her, she hurried back to the machine, opening her purse and fishing for change. The rain continued to blind her as she struggled to read the sign and calculate how much she needed, finally dropping three £1 coins into the slot and pressing the green button, forcing herself to look back at the car every few seconds. The orange machine finally whirred and spat out her parking ticket. Snatching it up, she charged back towards the car, relieved to get back in, and take a moment to catch her breath.
‘It is such a minging day,’ she said, finally opening her eyes and wiping rain from her face.
Looking up at the rear-view mirror, the breath caught in her throat.
Spinning around, she stared at the empty child seat, unwilling to believe her own eyes. It had to be some kind of joke. Where the hell was Carol-Anne?
Alex rubbed her eyes, and then dug her freshly polished nails into her skin to wake herself from the sudden nightmare.
The seat remained empty. Turning back to face the front, the ticket machine was barely visible through the rain-soaked windscreen.
This couldn’t be happening. Not again.
Her heart raced, as her mind desperately tried to connect the dots and determine why her daughter was no longer strapped into the chair.
Pushing her door open, Alex stepped back out, no longer noticing the rain as it splashed against her suit and pressed blouse. Still there was no sign of a single person in the car park. She scanned the area for any sudden flash of colour. Was it possible the alarm had frightened Carol-Anne so much that she’d managed to unfasten her belt, get out of her seat and leave the car in search of her Mummy?
It seemed so ridiculous, but what other explanation was there?
Darting to the back of the car, Alex stooped to look beneath it, scouring the floor, only finding puddles where the rainwater had settled. Then stalking along the row, looking in the gaps between the cars, the feeling of dread continued to grow in the pit of her stomach.
‘Carol-Anne? Carol-Anne?’ she called out, hoping that the sound of her terrified voice would find its way to her daughter’s ears.
There was still no sign of Carol-Anne, as she reached the end of the row, and so she turned and sprinted back towards her car, thick raindrops scraping against her cheeks, mixing with the tears that were already flowing uncontrollably.
‘Carol-Anne!’ she screamed at the top of her voice, until her lungs burned.
And as she spun around, desperately hunting for some tiny glimmer – some explanation – her thoughts returned to the car. What if she hadn’t got out? What if she’d been playing a game of hide-and-seek?
Yanking open the rear passenger door, she dived into the back of the car, pushing at the bags on the mats in the footwell, already knowing that she was wasting time, and that her little girl wasn’t there. What was the alternative? Nobody had been near the car.
Had they?
Alex choked down the urge to vomit, her pulse now dangerously high, and the world began to spin around her head.
‘Carol-Anne!’ she screeched at the top of her voice, calling out for the wind to carry her voice to the far edges of the earth.
There wasn’t a soul inside the car park, the only sound that of the rain falling.
Carol-Anne was gone.
2
‘You playing squash tomorrow night, Ray?’
Detective Sergeant Ray Granger looked up at the desk to his right. ‘Not this week, Owen. Shoulder’s still not recovered from the last time.’
‘You pull something?’
Ray ground his teeth to stop himself revealing the real reason he wasn’t going to make squash this week, the same reason his appearances at the fortnightly meet-ups had been so inconsistent for the last few months: the guilt was eating him alive, but he was like a puppy whenever she called him.
Pressing a hand against his right shoulder, Ray made a windmill gesture with his right arm. ‘No idea, mate, it hasn’t been right for a few weeks.’
A glimmer of concern flickered in Owen’s eyes. ‘You seen a doctor about it?’
Ray pulled a face. ‘You kidding? Hard as nails, me.’
Owen smiled and nodded. ‘Of course, I forgot you old-timers think you’re invincible.’
Ray cocked a sceptical eyebrow, knowing his younger colleague was teasing. ‘For one thing, less of the old; I’m only forty. And secondly, just because I don’t panic over every sniffle and self-diagnose a tumour like you wet-nosed graduates, doesn’t mean I think I’m invincible. I guess I just have a better pain threshold than you.’
Owen offered a slight bow out of courtesy, standing and lifting his mug. ‘You want a brew?’
Ray handed over his mug with a nod. ‘Cheers.’
‘No worries. Wouldn’t want you to develop a hernia by moving too quickly.’ Owen grinned, leaping out of the way as Ray pretended to take a swing in his direction.
DC Owen Hargrove was proving to be a decent copper, and his ability to deliver banter and stir shit was second to none in the unit. Leaning back in his chair, Ray observed his own reflection in the tall window next to his desk. Although he still felt like a man in his twenties, his appearance put him at double that age. Hair thinning from the age of nineteen, he’d shaved his head clean at twenty-five, choosing not to waste countless hours of his life worrying about the developing bald patch and ways to cover it. His father had also lost his hair at an early age, so what was the point in fighting against genetics?
Of course the bulging midriff wasn’t something he could blame on his father. Too many processed meals, grabbed on the hop when time allowed, and too many nights spent sinking beer after beer to reduce stress, had taken their toll. It was lucky he wasn’t applying to join the force today, as he’d struggle to meet the fitness requirements.
‘You thinking about making your comeback as a model, Ray?’
Looking up, he spotted the detective inspector hovering over the soundboard. ‘They couldn’t afford me, ma’am.’
‘Underwear, wasn’t it?’ DI Serena Trent laughed slyly.
Ray grinned back at her. ‘That’s right.’ He paused, as he considered her statement. ‘You know I could have you done for sexual harassment for a comment like that, ma’am. I mean, picturing me in my underwear isn’t exactly professional, is it?’ He laughed to show he was kidding.
Trent pulled a disgusted face. ‘I wasn’t picturing you in underwear, but I am now. Eurgh, the image is ingrained on my eyelids. Thanks for that, Ray.’
He chuckled. ‘Always aim to please, ma’am. Did you want me for something?’
Trent regained her composure. ‘Team brief in a few minutes to check where everyone is with their caseloads. Got something big on the horizon and I’ll need all hands on deck. How was your training course last week?’
A week away from home, staying in a hotel with meals on expenses: it had been just what he had needed. The training itself had been less exciting. When he would ever need to use the hostage negotiation techniques was beyond him, but the DI had recommended he go to aid his development. Not that he could see himself climbing the career ladder anytime soon.
‘It was interesting, ma’am. I appreciate you sending me.’
‘I’ll get you to give the rest of the team an overview in the next few weeks. And if any nutcase decides to rob a bank around here and take hostages, you’ll be the first one I call.’
He mock saluted as she moved away from the desk, calling together the rest of the team. Glancing at the framed photograph on the corner of his desk, he suddenly remembered that Alex’s interview was approaching. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he typed a quick message of support and pressed send.
He grabbed the frame and held it tight. He loved this picture: Alex with her shoulderlength brown hair was positively glowing, while Carol-Anne nestled in her arms, as they both relaxed on holiday. He could still remember taking the picture, and how proud he’d been of his little family. It was the day Alex had told him she was expecting their second child. He lowered the frame back to the desk face down; so much had happened in the six months that had passed since then, yet the pain felt just as raw as the day the sonographer had told them she couldn’t trace a heartbeat. Alex had later admitted to fearing something wasn’t right.
Pocketing the phone, Ray locked his workstation and made his way to the group of ten forming a semicircle around the main board. Perching on one of the desks, Owen handed him his mug of tea, as Trent quietened them down.
‘First of all,’ Trent began, standing in front of the board allowing her to make eye contact with each of them, ‘can we welcome back DS Ray Granger from his trip to Hendon? Ray has been learning the Met’s latest negotiation techniques from an instructor who has been working in Asia and the Middle East for the past decade.’
Ray nodded as his colleagues acknowledged his return. It seemed a bit staged, particularly as he’d only been away for a week, but it was Trent’s way of micromanaging her team.
‘So, when it comes round to the annual pay review, I’ll be delegating to Ray to negotiate on my behalf, and I’ll be expecting a bumper pay rise, Ray.’
‘They won’t know what’s hit them, ma’am,’ Ray smiled.
The group laughed.
‘Onto other matters,’ Trent continued, ‘we’ve had a tip-off that a new crew are smuggling counterfeit goods through the docks. The chief super has signed off a two-week surveillance op with overtime available for those who want to be involved. It’ll mean working all hours, with a view to crashing the ring by the end of the month.
‘I’ll be leading the surveillance, and we’ll be working closely with our colleagues in Organised Crime to identify the main players and set up further surveillance on their activities. The potential return on this one could be in the millions, which is why it’s been sanctioned. I want names on the board by the time I finish today so I can coordinate who’s doing what over the next fortnight.’
Ray pressed a hand to his pocket as his phone vibrated.
‘Everything okay, Ray?’ Trent asked.
All eyes fell on Ray as the phone continued to vibrate in his pocket. Trent was a stickler for keeping work and personal lives separate. She acknowledged that her team all had lives outside of the office, though she didn’t like it encroaching on her time.
‘Sorry, ma’am,’ Ray replied, lowering his eyes.
‘Right, where are we with the armed robbery at the post office in Portswood last Friday?’
An arm shot up. ‘CCTV has four masked men making their escape in a Transit from Portswood,’ DS Jodie Crichton explained. ‘Plates are false. We tracked the vehicle as far as the M3 before we lost sight of it. Having spoken to colleagues in Dorset and Berkshire, this could just be the latest in a string of robberies. It has the hallmarks of raids in Swindon, Bournemouth and Reading. The group are heavily armed – four men and a getaway driver – and only hit post offices, focusing primarily on their foreign exchange booths. One stands watch at the main door, keeping a check on the time via a stopwatch around his neck. He seems to be the one in charge. Each time, when it gets to exactly three minutes, he signals and the rest of the group haul tail out of there. They are very efficient from what I can see, using a different van each time, always with false plates, and always abandoned and torched with no DNA or fingerprints discovered at any of the wrecks or crime scenes.’
‘Do the other teams have any idea who the group are?’ Trent asked.
Crichton shook her head. ‘None, ma’am. The group are masked in all of the footage from the post offices.’
The phone was vibrating again, and this time Ray pulled it out and dropped it into the drawer of the desk he was sitting on.
Trent fired a look at him, before turning back to Jodie. ‘What about MOs of other crews?’
‘Still checking for similarities. I’ll keep you posted.’
‘Ray, you’ve got some free time on your hands. I want you to work with Jodie on this. Okay?’
Ray nodded as the sound of the vibrating phone echoed quietly in the drawer.
‘Good. Owen, what have you got for us in terms of news on the streets?’
Owen Hargrove stepped forward. ‘Uniform have reported a string of muggings in the precinct area of Shirley. Victims have described a tall girl, aged maybe fifteen or sixteen, with long brown hair. There’s also been three burglaries at properties in Hedge End. Can’t say for sure if they’re connected at this stage.’
‘Anything else?’
‘The only other thing they mentioned was the release of Jack Whitchurch, ma’am: convicted sex offender. He’s been released on bail and has been relocated outside of the county; they’re wary of reprisals, and have been asked to keep a watch on his property. We also need to make contact with his previous victims and advise them of his release. I’ll see if uniform can do house visits.’
‘Okay, thank you for the update. Don’t forget, names on the board by tonight. Back to work.’
Ray waited for the team to disperse, and in particular DI Trent, before opening the drawer and pulling out his phone. Five missed calls from Alex, and voicemail. It was unlike her to be so persistent when she knew he was working. Pocketing the phone, he headed for the exit.
3
Six calls and messages to Ray had yielded no results.
Where the hell was he, and why wasn’t he answering?
He should know that she wouldn’t keep calling unless it was an emergency.
The rain was still heavy. She no longer cared that her hair looked like she’d just stepped out of the shower and that her eyeliner had left streaks down her cheeks. None of that mattered anymore.
Returning to the back of the car, she opened and checked the boot for a second time. She knew it was impossible that Carol-Anne could have figured out how to lower the rear seats and crawl through to the boot, but she was fast running out of ideas about where her daughter could have gone.
She’d never felt so scared in all her life. What if Carol-Anne had somehow managed to get out of the car, and rather than walking towards Alex had taken a wrong turn? What if a car had hit her? Or what if she was out there now, lost and alone and wondering why her Mummy had abandoned her?
Why hadn’t she just taken Carol-Anne to the ticket machine with her? That would be the first question Ray would fire at her, and he’d be right to blame her for the moment of madness. She’d thought she was doing the right thing. She’d locked the car so Carol-Anne would be safe. And then the alarm had sounded. She hadn’t looked away for any real length of time, she was sure of that.
She replayed the two-minute period over and over in her mind, hunting for any detail or clue that would help her see through the fog of uncertainty clouding her every thought. She was certain she had strapped the harness around Carol-Anne before they’d set off from home. She would have noticed otherwise, wouldn’t she? Even so, there was no way Carol-Anne could have figured out how to unclip the harness herself. God knew, it was struggle enough to put the damned thing on each time, how could a two-year-old manage to undo it? Why else wouldn’t she be there now? As ridiculous as it sounded, if Carol-Anne hadn’t unfastened the harness that could only mean someone else had, and Alex was doing everything in her power to keep those thoughts from her mind.
Realistically it was the most likely explanation, but to cave in to that conclusion was to invite a whole new world of pain. The urge to vomit was returning, and this time she stooped over and dry-retched.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked at her phone. Ray still hadn’t replied. He’d know what to do. He was always so much more pragmatic than she was. And given his experience in the force, he’d know what steps to follow. She desperately hoped – even though deep down she knew she was kidding herself – that Ray had stopped by, seen Carol-Anne alone, and he’d been the one to take her, and that was why she couldn’t now get hold of him. He was playing some kind of twisted game; that had to be it! He hadn’t been that keen on her coming for the interview, and so rather than supporting her decision, he was retaliating in the cruellest way.
Slamming the boot, she moved back to Carol-Anne’s window and stared in. When she had last turned to look at her daughter, there had been no sign to suggest the harness had been loose or not clipped together. She never would have considered leaving her alone in the car if she had thought there was some way Carol-Anne could have fallen from the seat.
How could anyone else have taken her?
She retraced her steps back to the ticket machine, playing the memory in real time. She had locked the car with the remote as she had darted through the rain. It had beeped as the alarm had cut in. And then when she’d got to the machine the alarm had sounded, meaning Carol-Anne had to have been in the car then.
She froze halfway to the machine, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end; what if Carol-Anne hadn’t been the cause of the alarm being triggered?
Alex had looked over at the car as the alarm had sounded. She would have noticed somebody lurking at the side of the car, wouldn’t she? And there had been no sign of anyone anywhere in the car park. She would have seen a stranger snatching her daughter, wouldn’t she?
Having switched the alarm off, she couldn’t have been by the ticket machine for more than twenty seconds – thirty at most – and then she’d hurried back. If somebody had opened Carol-Anne’s door, unfastened the harness, closed the door and snuck away, Alex would have spotted them. There had been no colour among the drab view of cars as the rain had thundered down; she was sure of that. There had to be something else she was missing.
Alex jumped as her phone burst into sound. ‘Oh, Ray, thank God, where have you been?’
‘Sorry, babe, I was in a team meeting. How’d your interview go? Do you think you got it?’
‘I need you, Ray. Right now! It’s Carol-Anne … she’s-she’s-she’s …’ but Alex couldn’t bring herself to say the words as her eyes filled with tears, threatening to burst at any second.
‘Carol-Anne. What’s wrong? Is she okay? Has something happened?’
Alex tilted her head back, desperate not to burst the damn holding the tears in place.
‘Alex? What’s going on? Where are you?’
‘She’s gone,’ she managed, her voice barely a whisper, as the tears ran down her cheeks.
‘She’s what? I didn’t hear what you said. It sounded like—’
‘She’s gone, Ray. I think someone’s taken her. Oh God,’ she sobbed.
‘What do you mean someone’s taken her? Where are you, Alex?’
‘I came to town for my interview, and I was in the car park w-w-when …’
‘What car park, Alex? Tell me exactly where you are and I’ll come across straight away.’
‘The Woodside Road car park. Please hurry, Ray.’
The line disconnected, and Alex buried her head in her hands, willing Ray to arrive and save her fragile mind.
The sudden sound of a child’s laughter caused the sobbing to stop almost immediately, as she strained to hear where it was coming from. Scanning the car park once more, Alex saw a woman in a long, hooded jacket, loading something into her back seat. Setting off without a second’s thought, Alex splashed through the puddles in the uneven surface.
The hooded woman was now fewer than twenty yards away. She was closing the rear door of her estate car, and already had a hand on the driver’s side door handle. Alex had never been much of a runner, but from somewhere deep she found the drive to move her legs quicker, almost colliding with the car’s bumper, as she tried to steady herself. The woman jumped as Alex rested both hands on the bonnet; this woman wasn’t going anywhere with her daughter.
The woman pulled her hood down to reveal a mop of tight strawberry-blonde curls. Winding her window down, she leaned out and called to Alex. ‘Can I help you with something? Do you want my space?’
Alex sucked in lungfuls of air, as she tried to steady her breathing. Rather than replying, she stalked around to the rear passenger door, and tried to stare through the rain-covered and misted glass. A bob of fair hair could be seen in a child seat.
Alex pulled on the door handle, but it was locked.
‘Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ the woman demanded, now standing with one leg in the car and one outside. ‘Get away from my car.’
‘Give me my daughter back,’ Alex demanded, standing firm. ‘Open this door.’
The woman stared back at her, puzzled. ‘I’m warning you: get away from my daughter’s door. I’ll call the police,’ she threatened holding her mobile aloft.
‘Good,’ Alex fired back wide-eyed with anger. ‘Call them. Then you can explain to them why you took my daughter from my car and tried to drive off with her.’
The woman looked around the car park, as if she was expecting a film crew to appear at any moment and reveal Alex’s behaviour was all part of an elaborate practical joke. ‘I won’t tell you again: back away from my car so I can leave.’
‘Give me back my daughter!’
‘I don’t have your daughter!’ the woman screamed back. ‘That is my daughter in the car.’
Alex stepped back uncertainly. ‘Of course you’d say that.’
The woman’s anger boiled over. Straightening, she slammed the door behind her and stomped past Alex, opening the rear passenger door. ‘Take a look yourself!’
Alex hurried forward, stopping only when her eyes fell on the blue eyes of the toddler staring back at her, clearly worried by the raised voices.
Alex stared from the toddler to the angry mother.
‘Well? Satisfied now?’
Alex wobbled, before falling to her knees despite the wet ground, and allowing her terror to escape in a sorrowful scream.
The other woman closed and locked her daughter’s door, before crouching down beside Alex. ‘Are you okay, love?’
‘My-my-my daughter,’ Alex wailed. ‘She’s missing.’
The woman gasped, understanding the sheer terror that had driven Alex to behave so irrationally. Suddenly all the anger was gone from her voice. ‘Missing? You poor thing. When did you last see her?’
Alex couldn’t respond, as the sobs returned with a vengeance. The woman opened the front passenger door and manoeuvred Alex into it, before racing around and diving into her own seat.
Offering a packet of tissues, she said, ‘Is there anything I can do? Can I call someone for you?’
‘My husband is on his way,’ Alex replied, through stilted breaths, accepting one of the tissues and blowing her nose, embarrassed by her outburst and accusation.
‘When did this happen?’
Alex did her best to steady her breathing, but she might as well have not bothered. ‘Just now … I left her in the car while I went to get a ticket … one minute she was there, and the next …’ Her eyes stung as further tears threatened to fall.
‘Oh my, you poor thing. Have you called the police?’
Alex nodded. ‘My husband’s in … I mean, my husband is a detective.’
‘You’re welcome to wait here until he arrives,’ the woman offered. ‘What does your daughter look like? Was she wearing a coat?’
‘She has blonde hair and the cutest face … she was wearing a bright red anorak.’
The woman’s eyes darted left and right as she too began to search helplessly for any sign of Carol-Anne. ‘She can’t have gone far. Have you tried heading out to the main road in case she wandered off?’
Alex shook her head.
‘That’s probably what’s happened,’ the woman concluded, trying to sound positive for both of their sakes. ‘I know what kids can be like. My little one wandered off in a supermarket once. Scared me to death, she did. I was searching everywhere for her, and when I returned to the trolley there she was, totally oblivious to the years she’d shaved off my life expectancy. I’m sure your daughter will turn up too. The important thing is to remain focused.’
Alex looked up at the woman through clouded eyes. ‘I’m sorry about what I said—’
‘Don’t be silly. I imagine I’d have been far ruder in your situation. I’m sorry I was so abrupt with you initially.’
‘How old is your little one?’ Alex asked.
‘Eighteen months,’ the woman replied, turning and smiling at her daughter to reassure her. ‘And yours?’
‘Two years.’ Alex paused. ‘What kind of mother would allow her daughter to be snatched like this?’
Neither answered the question. Alex stared back out into the rain-washed car park, her paranoia going into overdrive.
4
Ray was still squeezing the phone as Owen returned to his desk.
‘Everything okay, Ray?’
Ray took a deep breath, trying to suppress the blizzard of questions racing through his mind. ‘Um, no … I don’t know …’
Owen frowned at his colleague. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?’
Ray blinked several times, his mind in limbo somewhere between reality and disbelief. ‘That was Alex … she said that someone has taken our daughter … I need to go.’
Owen’s eyes widened at the admission. ‘Someone’s taken her? Like, as in, taken her?’
The computer on the desk blurred as Ray tried to focus on where he was and what he needed to do next. Nausea swept through him as the room began to spin. Reaching out for his chair, he steadied himself.
Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Owen lowered his mug to the desk and grabbed a set of keys from the tray on one of the cabinets. ‘Come on, I’ll drive you.’
Ray allowed Owen to lead him from the office, down the double set of stairs and into the yard where the team’s unmarked squad cars rested.
Holding the key aloft, Owen pressed the remote and looked to see which unlocked, nodding towards the Focus. ‘That one,’ he said, as he grabbed Ray’s arm and put him in the passenger seat.
It was like he was watching a film of his life, with some not-so-attractive actor playing him. He knew what was happening, but had no control over where the script would take them.
Among the questions to be considered was whether he should report the phone call to DI Trent immediately, but he needed to assess the situation first. It wouldn’t be the first time Alex had overreacted to a simple situation.
Things hadn’t been right with her since the miscarriage, and he’d urged her to see a counsellor after the loss. She’d assured him she didn’t need it, and had focused her attention on Carol-Anne and then hunting for a new job. But she’d been on edge, flying off the handle at the littlest of irritations, constantly lethargic. And then two weeks after it happened, he’d found her in what would have been the nursery holding a knife. She insisted she’d been washing up and had become distracted by the sound of crying, which is why she’d climbed the stairs. Thankfully, Carol-Anne had been with him at the shop, and was oblivious to her mother’s delicate state of mind.
Then there was what had happened in Manchester with the girl at the park. He’d insisted on counselling after that, and she’d had no choice but to go, though he couldn’t remember the last time she’d talked about her progress, or even the last time he’d seen her take the medication the GP had prescribed.
Calling to tell him someone had taken Carol-Anne: could her mind have finally snapped? Alex was many things, but could she really have done something to put their daughter’s life in danger? Ray desperately hoped he was misjudging his wife, although only time would tell.
‘Where are we headed?’ Owen asked as he started the engine.
‘The car park off Woodside Road, down from the Civic Centre.’
‘I know the place. Belt up.’ Owen nodded, engaging the lights built in to the grill. ‘What else did Alex tell you?’
Ray tried to recall the conversation. Usually his memory was good; however a flurry of questions interrupted every time he tried to hear Alex’s words again. ‘She was going to town for an interview. She was supposed to be dropping our daughter at a crèche, heading to the Civic Centre for the interview, picking up Carol-Anne and then coming home.’
‘What time was the interview?’
‘At three, I think.’
Owen noted the time on the dashboard display. ‘Well she either didn’t make it, or it was the shortest interview in history. Do you think someone took your daughter from the crèche? I mean, do you think it could be a simple mix-up? Like the supervisors gave the wrong child to the wrong mother?’
Ray could only hope it was that simple, but the anxiety in Alex’s voice had suggested something far worse had happened.
‘Either way,’ Owen concluded, ‘we should probably call it in. You know how vital the first hours are in abduction cases. At the very least, we should see if there are any units in the area. If someone has snatched your daughter, we should get a description out there as soon as possible.’
Owen put the radio to his mouth and called it in, requesting backup at the car park.
‘I really appreciate your support,’ Ray said when the radio quietened.
‘Listen, mate, you don’t need to say thank you. You know we take care of our own. And if some nutcase has snatched your daughter, we’ll do everything to get her back.’
Ray appreciated the sentiment, even if it was scant consolation. He couldn’t stop picturing a future where a tiny coffin was lowered into the ground, and it was all he could do not to break down.
The patrol car was first on the scene, swiftly followed by Owen and Ray, with a third joining moments later.
‘Do you see Alex?’ Owen asked, scanning the immediate vicinity.
Ray couldn’t, at first, surprised at how busy the car park was. ‘There’s her car,’ he said, recognizing the registration number and pointing at the hatchback.
Owen brought the car to a halt immediately in front of Alex’s, and the two of them jumped out. Noticing that Alex wasn’t behind the wheel, he pulled out his phone and called her, and she was soon running over to them, throwing her arms around his neck.
‘Oh, Ray, thank God, I only looked away for a moment, and …’
Ray wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her still for a moment, knowing that he needed to be pragmatic. Now wasn’t the time for emotion. ‘Tell me what happened.’
Alex steadied herself before recounting the story, retracing her steps, explaining her actions throughout. ‘I couldn’t have been looking away for anything more than twenty to thirty seconds, I swear to you.’
Owen was examining the door handle, shining his phone’s torch on it, looking for any obvious fingerprints or smudges. ‘And you said the car was locked?’
‘Yes. The alarm sounded while I was at the machine, but I couldn’t see anyone, and assumed it was Carol-Anne moving about that had caused it.’
Ray remained standing in front of the car, scouring the horizon for potential security cameras that might have captured what had happened, only spotting one some distance behind the car park.
For the first time his blood ran cold. His little girl – his bundle and joy – was out there alone and needed him more than ever.
Ray called Owen over as his training kicked in. ‘Do me a favour: get Alex out of this rain; put her in the back of our car and take her to get a cup of tea or something, will you? There will be a mountain of questions to scale, and she needs to be calm and rational.’
Owen nodded and moved over to Alex. She looked at Ray as Owen spoke to her, and he gave her a nod to confirm she should go with Owen. Waiting until the car had pulled away, he instructed the uniforms to set up a perimeter, preventing access to the car park, and to take the names and identification of anyone returning to collect their vehicle. And then with trembling fingers, he searched for Trent’s number, placing the phone to his ear.
5
In the back of the police car, Alex was helpless as she watched the scene around her unfolding.
‘You’d be better off waiting at home,’ Ray had said after Owen had brought her back from the drive-thru. ‘I promise I’ll phone as soon as we know more.’
How could she return home and pretend that everything was normal? What did he expect her to do: make the dinner like usual? She had no idea of the time, but as the darkness was drawing closer, it had to be gone six. Where had the time gone?
As she watched technicians in protective paper suits carefully examining the ground in and around her car, none of it felt real. Her nails were chewed to the quick and her wrists red raw from scratching; no matter what she tried, she couldn’t wake from the nightmare.
Who would have taken Carol-Anne, and why? She could understand an opportunistic thief stealing a handbag left on a seat, or a mobile device left unattended; it wasn’t right, but she could understand the mentality. Maybe they could sell their loot to fund drugs or drink. What could someone possibly gain from taking Carol-Anne?
And how had they known where to get her from? There was no way anyone could have foreseen that Alex would be running late for the interview, that she would choose that particular parking space, or that she would be stupid enough to leave Carol-Anne unattended, while she dashed through the rain to purchase a ticket.
So, what did that leave? Some predator who just happened to be in the vicinity? It didn’t ring true. Someone sick enough to abduct a child had happened to be in the car park, near her car at the right moment? That didn’t tally in her mind.
What else did that leave?
She could see from Ray’s reaction what he was thinking. He’d hardly said more than two words to her since he’d arrived. Why wasn’t this affecting him in the same way? Why wasn’t he pulling out his hair with worry? Instead, he was busying himself talking to the technicians, doing anything that kept him away from the car she’d been shepherded to. Couldn’t he see how much she needed him right now? Couldn’t they just temporarily forget all the arguments and focus on supporting each other? Isn’t that what relationships were all about? Wasn’t that what they’d promised on their wedding day?
Maybe it was just more evidence of his infidelity. She had no doubt he’d loved her once, but in reality they’d been going through the motions for months. The miscarriage had stolen more than just their unborn child.
If she was right about the real reason he was avoiding her, what did that mean for their future together? She’d seen it when she’d explained what had happened. That look, so subtle, yet so apparent to someone who had shared so many tender moments with him.
He thought she was lying.
As the minutes continued to disappear into the mire of history, even she was beginning to question her version of events. Had Carol-Anne definitely been in the car? Or had Alex’s fragile psyche snapped and her mind created the memory to cover up the truth? After what had happened at that park in Manchester, she knew it was a possibility, yet the memory was so real. She couldn’t have fabricated Carol-Anne giggling, could she? And if she had, where the hell was Carol-Anne now? Already Ray had been home and confirmed she wasn’t there.
‘You’re not crazy,’ Alex muttered under her breath, failing to convince even herself. ‘You’re not crazy,’ she said, firmer this time.
She felt numb to the anxiety now. Troubled thoughts continued to flood her mind, each one like a paper cut, inflicting pain; eventually they would kill her. Her pulse and heartbeat had slowed drastically, as her body subconsciously came to terms with the prospect that there was nothing she could do to fix this terrible occurrence. The pill she’d found in the bottom of her handbag had probably helped, the last of her prescription from Dr Kirkman. Maybe that was why the scene outside the car was occurring in slow motion despite the minutes on the clock passing so quickly.
At least Ray hadn’t blamed her yet. He had to be thinking it behind those dark brooding eyes of his; however he hadn’t uttered the words, and she appreciated that. Carrying the guilt was hard enough, and having him to share the burden was a blessing. She wished he was sitting in the car with her now, but Ray wasn’t someone who could just sit on the sidelines and watch the game unfold. Especially not where Carol-Anne was concerned. He needed to be involved, even though he would probably be assigned to other duties as the full investigation launched. For now, at least, his DI was allowing him to observe.
The driver’s door opening snapped her back to reality. The woman who took the seat was older than Alex, and with a slender frame and taut shoulders, she carried a confidence suited to her role.
‘Alex? I’m Detective Inspector Serena Trent,’ the woman said, extending her hand. ‘I’ve read the statement you gave earlier, and I’m hoping you can clarify a few points for me.’
Alex nodded, her pulse already quickening.
‘In the statement you said you had to wait for that particular space?’
Alex nodded again, terrified that the detective could read her mind.
‘Did you speak to the woman whose space you took?’
Alex coughed, and when she spoke sounded croaky. ‘Briefly, just to check she was leaving.’
‘And can you describe what this woman looked like?’
Alex frowned. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘Hair colour? Eye colour?’
The only thing she could remember was that bright yellow umbrella. She wasn’t even sure they’d spoken anymore.
‘Did she have any other distinguishing features? Glasses, distinctive nose, anything like that?’
Alex stared blankly back at her, too exhausted to cry again.
‘Can you remember the make and model of her car? Or any part of the registration plate?’
Alex watched DI Trent. Was she being serious? Did she really think the woman with the yellow umbrella had taken Carol-Anne? Was that even possible? Alex had seen the SUV pull away, but had it actually exited the car park? What did Trent know that she didn’t?
‘Alex? I said, can you remember the make or model of the car?’ Trent repeated.
Alex shook her head, staring down at her hands as they scratched at the scars on her wrists.
‘Given the proximity of her departure and your dash to the ticket machine, she could be a potential witness. It would be good if we can identify her in case she saw anyone strange hanging about the place.’
Alex raised her head, considering the woman before her, in whom she was expected to put all her trust. Ray had mentioned Trent’s name in passing, although he’d never said how attractive she was. The skin around her eyes wasn’t as smooth as her neck, and she didn’t look as old as Alex was certain she was. Her face bore little by way of make-up, and her bleached hair seemed to hang effortlessly, without need of grips or spray.
‘I’m sorry,’ Alex eventually said.
Trent narrowed her eyes. ‘And there was a second woman you interacted with too?’
Alex blushed at the memory.
‘In your statement you said you thought she might have taken your daughter,’ Trent encouraged.
‘I thought I heard Carol-Anne’s voice.’
Trent watched her in silence for a moment. ‘I’m going to apologize in advance for my next question, but I need to know, Alex, have you taken any pills or consumed any alcohol today?’
Alex ground her teeth, her nails scratching feverishly. ‘No.’
‘Are you taking any medication, prescribed or otherwise?’
How could she know about that? Surely Ray hadn’t told his boss what they had been through this past year? If he had, it would explain why Trent was looking at her so strangely.
Trent ran a hand over her face, as if wiping away the guilt of having to ask the question. ‘It’s a strange case for me to be involved with – knowing Ray so well – and vicariously knowing you through his eyes.’
The hairs on the back of Alex’s neck tingled. ‘What’s he said?’
Trent raised her hands in a calming gesture. ‘Nothing bad. As his superior I’m obviously aware of what you both went through a few months ago, and—’
‘My miscarriage has nothing to do with this.’
‘I’m not saying it has, Alex, I just meant I know the pressure the two of you have been under, and stress can do strange things; the mind can play tricks.’
‘I didn’t imagine this! Someone took my daughter.’ For the first time Alex wanted to believe the words, even if Trent would take more convincing.
‘Our Scene of Crime specialists have been searching for forensics in and around your car, and so far they’ve not found anything to suggest anybody else had access to the car. The only prints on the rear door handle are a match to your own, presumably created fresh today when you put Carol-Anne in the back of the car. What’s also odd is they’ve found no loose hairs anywhere in the back of the car; has it been cleaned recently?’
It had been at the garage for a service yesterday, but what did that have to do with this?
‘Do you keep a spare key for the vehicle at home?’ Trent continued.
Alex nodded.
‘Does anyone else have access to your home who might have used the key to get to Carol-Anne in the back?’
‘I unlocked the car when the alarm went off.’
Trent smiled thinly. ‘We have to consider the possibility that whoever took your daughter came here with that intention. We have to investigate every possibility. Where do you keep the spare key?’
‘It’s in a drawer in our bedroom.’
‘Have you had any friends or family around socially recently? Or do you have a cleaner or regular babysitter who’s been in your home?’
Alex couldn’t think of a single friend or relative who would deliberately take Carol-Anne. ‘No.’
‘And when did you last check the key was there?’
Alex opened her mouth to speak. She had no idea when she’d last seen the spare key. It wasn’t something that had ever crossed her mind. It was just there. In the unlikely event she ever lost her keys or somehow locked them in the car, she would know where to find the spare.
‘I’m sure it was there when I last checked.’
‘Which was when?’
Alex shrugged. ‘I don’t remember. Only Ray and I have access to our home.’
‘I’m just doing my job, Alex. I need to establish the facts if I’m to investigate what really happened here. I don’t mean to be blunt, but the sooner we cut through the bullshit, the better it’ll be for Carol-Anne.’
Alex looked away as she felt the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes.
‘I want you to give me a list of guests – friends, colleagues, and strangers – who may have visited your home in the last month.’
Alex felt embarrassed that the list of names could be counted on one hand with fingers to spare.
Trent sighed. ‘I’m going to assign one of my best Family Liaison Officers to stay with you and Ray for the next few days. She’s experienced in dealing with family traumas and will be able to keep you informed of progress on the investigation. Do you have space at home where she can stay?’
The thought of a stranger in her house filled Alex with dread, but she nodded regardless. As the darkness continued to envelope the horizon, she was certain Carol-Anne was still alive, and very much in danger. If having someone in her home would keep her up to date with what was going on, that’s what she would do.
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.
