‘Hi Chloe, I know it’s late. Listen, I’m really sorry about earlier. You caught me off guard and I acted like an arsehole. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘Oh you didn’t upset me, don’t worry. You can make plans with anyone you want; it’s nothing to do with me.’ The words didn’t come out quite as she had intended and she wondered if it was the effects of the wine.
‘I didn’t realise we were at that stage. I really enjoyed it, but we only went to the theatre.’ He actually sounded quite reasonable and she felt awkward about her clumsy choice of words.
‘Yes. I mean no, we aren’t at that stage. I’m sorry Ben, I’m not stalking you or anything, I just don’t like to be humiliated like that, especially in front of other people. It’s not about you and me, it’s about common decency. I thought we were friends, you know, not just work colleagues. That’s all it was.’ She stood up and walked over to the window. Parting the bright, flowery curtains, she looked out into the darkness.
‘Let me make it up to you. Come out with me tomorrow night. We’ll go anywhere you want; just name it and I promise you’ll have a good time. Come on, let’s forget this and move on.’
Chloe thought about it for a moment. She’d liked him from the minute she bumped into him in the revolving doors on that first morning. He’d also been very supportive at work, and surely everyone deserved a second chance. She closed the curtain and sat on the edge of her bed.
‘Okay, why not? I tell you what, let me show you the sights of Bradmill. Come over at eight and we’ll go and get something to eat in the village. There’s a great pub down there.’
‘I’d love too,’ said Ben, sounding surprisingly excited. ‘See you at eight. And I really am sorry, it won’t happen again.’
‘It had better not. There’ll be no third chance you know,’ she said in a stern voice, only half-jokingly.
They chatted a while longer and then said goodnight. Chloe settled back down into bed and turned out the light. Had she done the right thing? She hoped it wasn’t just the wine talking and that she wasn’t going to wake up in the morning regretting what she’d just agreed to. She really did like Ben, and if the incident at work was the worst he had to offer then he wasn’t so bad. And besides, her dad had liked him too and he was generally a very good judge of character. She smiled to herself as she shuffled down under the sheets. It was some time before her racing mind slowed down and allowed her to fall asleep.
44
The Timer took a step back.
What the fuck is this? It should be drugs, it’s always drugs.
He directed the torch down onto the package and located the eyes again. They blinked in the torchlight. Big, blue eyes, undoubtedly those of a child, stared back, the terror within them all too obvious to see.
What have they set me up with here? Jez never said a word about this.
It was then that he remembered what Jez had said. The package is bigger than normal, so make sure you’ve got a decent set of wheels. The package was not what you would call large. The Timer reckoned the child to be around the same age as his own girls, based on size alone, making her around five or six years old.
He bent over and pulled the sheet further down. The girl lying on the floor of the trailer stared back up at him, unable to make a sound through the thick tape which had been secured tightly over her mouth. He pulled the sheet away completely and saw that she was dressed in a thick red duffle coat. Her hands and feet were also bound by the same tape, and it was clear to him why she was lying so still and why she looked so scared.
It’s just a job, the same as any other. Deliver the goods and collect the cash. Six grand for this remember.
But he already knew he couldn’t go through with it. The child reminded him too much of his own girls at home. Daisy and Molly would be safely tucked up in bed, their mother close by, warm and happy. The contrast to this girl was stark, and she should be in a similar place, in her own bed, with her own family. He was a bad guy, he knew that. He’d done bad things, and yes, he had enjoyed the thrill of it. But this was something else. This was a child, a young girl who didn’t belong in this world, not this ugly world of greed and violence. He couldn’t do it, and he already knew that this was a turning point, not only for this young vulnerable child laying in the back of this truck on her way to God knows where, but also for himself.
Putting his face close to the girl’s, he smiled widely. Not a grin, but a warm, genuine smile, and he was sure he saw a twinkle in the child’s eyes.
‘I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, sweetheart,’ he said, and those eyes blinked back at him. ‘I promise I’ll take this tape off you in a minute, but we need to get to my car first. I’m going to carry you out of here.’
‘What the hell are you doing in here you thieving bastard?’ The driver had apparently noticed the light in the truck and had come out to investigate. ‘I’m warning you, the police are on their way. You’d better run whilst you can.’ The driver looked even smaller close up. Balding, with a stomach which hung low over the top of his belt, and possibly the least threatening man the Timer had ever seen. He shone the torch directly at the man’s face to make sure he couldn’t see the child lying at his feet.
‘Listen to me carefully. I have a knife on me and I don’t want to use it. Go back into the house and wait for the police to arrive. I’m not stealing anything, and I’ll be on my way in just a minute.’ The Timer really did not want to hurt the man. After all, he was just an innocent pawn in all of this. He had no idea that he had been carrying an extra package, never mind that it was a child.
The man stood there trying to make out what was going on, his hand forming a peek over his eyes as if he was looking into strong sunlight. He obviously didn’t fancy his chances and seemed reluctant to fight, but his pride clearly wouldn’t let him give in easily. He shuffled on his feet and ruffled what little hair he had.
‘I don’t want any trouble, mate, but you’re in my truck. I can’t let you just take stuff out of it.’
The Timer pulled his knife and held it out in front of him, making sure the blade flashed in the torchlight. His victim took a step back and reached for the opening in the tarpaulin, ready to make his escape if necessary.
‘Go back into the house, or I will use this. It’ll hurt like nothing you’ve ever felt and you’ll die a slow and painful death.’ The Timer spoke calmly and didn’t once break his stare, confident that the man would back down.
‘Oh Jesus, okay, okay. Just don’t take anything. I’ll lose my job if you do. Please, don’t take anything. The police are coming.’ He turned and disappeared through the hole in the tarpaulin.
45
The Timer bent down and scooped the small, weightless child up into his arms, clasping her close to his chest.
‘Come on, babe, we’ll have you out of here and back to safety as soon as we can.’ The blue eyes continued to stare up at him.
He returned to the hole in the truck’s tarpaulin and clambered down with the child still clutching to him. Snow was now falling from the dark sky and it felt sharp on his face as he looked up at the house. The curtains twitched as the truck driver and his girlfriend looked out, their silhouettes clear against the light behind them. There was no sign of the police arriving, and he was confident that the threat had been a lie. The last thing the driver needed was to have to explain why he was here, and more particularly, who he was with.
The Timer placed the child in the front passenger seat and jumped in the driver’s side, already pulling his knife. The child saw the blade and flinched.
‘Don’t worry little angel, I’m just gonna take these horrible tapes off you, okay?’
She nodded, still looking at him intently. And as the tape came away she cried again, and hugged the Timer as she sobbed. It broke his heart, and he let her cry until he felt the sobs subside and thought she would be able to speak.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Francesca.’ She sounded English, home counties p
erhaps.
‘Where are you from, Francesca? Where’s home?’
‘London.’ Her voice was quiet and uncertain. The Timer wasn’t even sure she knew where home was. Why was she in a truck from Hull? Had she been kept there? Or had she been taken abroad and then smuggled back into the country?
‘And is that where mummy is?’
‘I don’t know.’ The tears came again.
‘Why don’t you know?’ He spoke as gently as he could so as not to upset her any more than he had to.
‘We were on holiday.’
‘Can you remember where that was?’
‘Amster… Amsterdam. With mummy and daddy.’
‘Okay, now listen to me. I need you to be a brave girl. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe so you can go home to mummy and daddy? Would that be good?’
She hugged him tighter and sobbed uncontrollably.
What the hell is Jez doing messing about with kids?
The Timer eased the child gently back into her seat and fastened the seatbelt across her. She needed a booster seat really but it would have to do. He set off down the lane in search of help, driving carefully in the light covering of snow that had already developed. It wasn’t long before he approached a small village where several stone houses lined both sides of the road. He pulled the car over and clambered out.
‘Come on Francesca, I need to get you safe,’ he said gently as he helped her out of the car. He picked her up and hurried to the sturdy-looking door of a house where lights were shining from the front windows. He banged on the wood several times and waited.
‘Hello?’ It was a pleasant looking woman in her thirties. She’d opened the door seemingly without any great concern for own safety. The Timer guessed that she’d lived in this rural community for many years; a place where serious crime just didn’t happen.
‘Hello love. Do you live here alone?’ The Timer knew the question would unease her, and he could see that he was right by her change of expression, but he had to be sure this was a safe place.
‘Can I help you with something?’ asked the woman, stepping back and subconsciously closing the door a little.
‘Yes, I think you can. I…’
‘Who is it mummy?’ A small boy appeared from behind the woman’s legs and peered up at the Timer.
‘Go back inside dear, it’s just a man looking for some help with his daughter.’ Her words were full of warmth and love despite her concern about the stranger at the door. The Timer knew instantly that this was a good place.
‘Please, I need you to take this child and get her to safety. Call the police and tell them that she is missing. Her name is Francesca.’
‘I don’t understand. Is she your daughter?’
‘No, but she needs help. She needs to get back to her family. I think they live in London. I don’t have time to explain it all now.’
‘But who are you? Where have you come from?’
‘I can’t tell you any more than I have. I’m sorry, I know this is a big ask, but I have no alternative.’
The woman looked back into the house and he thought she was about to call to someone else, but she didn’t.
‘Okay,’ she said simply. ‘I’ll do it.’
The Timer shaped to pass Francesca to the woman but the girl held on to his coat as tightly as she could. He knelt down and placed her on the ground so that she was standing in front of him, her eyes gleaming in the light coming from the hallway. He knew he would never see this little girl again, but he also knew he would never forget those eyes.
‘Francesca, this nice lady is going to get you back to mummy and daddy. I promise you that she will do that. I have to leave now. You’re safe now, I promise. You’re safe.’
She nodded and hugged him again, then took hold of the hand being held out to her by the woman at the door.
‘Thank you,’ said the Timer, and the woman nodded. He turned to leave as the door closed behind him. It was only then that the anger, which he’d necessarily restrained, came to the surface. He’d been tricked into this, tricked into doing something he never would have agreed to, and they knew it. He felt used. Used and betrayed by the people for whom he had worked for many years. There was only one thing that came to mind, one thing that he knew would put things right, especially if he wanted to save face in this business of his.
Revenge.
46
‘Nathan please don’t. I just want to be left alone.’
He stepped away and sat on the edge of the bed, unable to divert his eyes from the woman he loved as she stood staring out of the bedroom window. They’d travelled back to London a couple of days after they had received the news that Francesca was almost certainly in England. There seemed little point in staying in Amsterdam after that. The centre of the investigation had been transferred to Humberside police and they waited for news, but as every hour passed they knew that the chance of finding their daughter faded, and their hearts were slowly breaking.
They found themselves stuck in a routine of doing nothing. No work, no socialising, no shopping, nothing. Most of their time was spent in this room, with its neutral painted walls and modern furniture contrasting with the original Victorian features. The high ceilings and huge sash windows couldn’t take away the feelings of claustrophobia that crushed them both until they struggled for breath. Hardly sleeping, every time the phone rang they both jumped expectantly, but it was invariably a concerned friend or family member. When the police did call, they had nothing new to report. The hours dragged and the pain intensified.
Nathan returned to his wife’s side but respected her wish to be left alone. He gazed out across the small park opposite their house, and it reminded him again of the park in Amsterdam. A few children played happily as their parents looked on. If only he could go back. Why did he let her play so far away from where he was?
He cleared the thoughts from his mind as best he could. He wasn’t to blame. The police were sure he’d been targeted, the victim of a well-executed plan. What more could he have done? Children had to be given some kind of freedom after all.
But it didn’t help to remove the guilt. He blamed himself and he was frightened that his wife blamed him too. She’d said nothing to make him believe that was the case, but she’d become more distant in recent days.
‘Shall I get us something to eat?’ he offered.
Silence. She stood staring out of the window, and he wondered if he should try to find more support for her. They’d been allocated a police liaison officer who’d been very helpful, and his wife had spoken to a counsellor, but after one session she’d refused to go back. Her behaviour worried him. He’d lost his daughter and now he was terrified that he was losing his wife too. She was the strong one in their partnership, and now she was falling, and he knew he would go down with her.
‘I trusted you.’
There it was. Barely audible, but those three words confirmed all his worst fears. She did blame him and there was little he could say or do to repair things.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly. ‘I’d do anything to get her back here safely.’
She turned and looked him in the eye, her face expressionless.
‘I trusted you,’ she repeated.
‘I had her. She was safe. I had her.’
‘I trusted you!’ she yelled, her voice full of hurt and anger. He didn’t respond, what could he say? The look in her eyes scared him. Could they ever recover from this? Did they even have a future together?
He held his arms out wide and continued to hold her stare, not really sure what to expect. The redness around her eyes gave away the fact that she’d been crying too often lately. But there were no tears now, just emptiness.
His mobile phone rang and he placed it to his ear. As he listened to the words of the police officer, tears cupped in the bottom of his eyes and then broke free, escaping down his face.
‘Thank you so much.’ His voice was weak with relief. Still looking into the eyes of the woman he had loved
since he was sixteen, he spoke the words that he hoped would start to fix them. ‘They’ve found her. They’ve found her. She’s safe.’
His wife collapsed onto the carpet in front of him.
47
Chloe was already flustered when she arrived at work. Overnight snow had caused chaos on the railway lines and her usual train never arrived. With only fifteen minutes until her meeting at the local authority, she had no time to grab a coffee or deal with e-mails. Not that she was expecting anything important, but she did like to clear the decks first thing in the morning before she started her day’s work.
She picked up Chelsie’s file and stuffed it into her shoulder bag, grabbed a notepad and pen and headed off to the stairs. As she hurried out into the corridor she ran straight into Ben.
‘Oh, sorry Ben, I can’t talk, I’m late for a meeting.’
‘That’s quite all right. I’m glad we managed to sort a few things out last night.’
She smiled. ‘Me too, but I really do have to dash. I’ll see you tonight.’
‘Yes, looking forward to it,’ he called as she disappeared through the door to the stairwell.
After taking the stairs two at a time, she thundered across the marble tiles in reception and outside into the chilly morning air. There wasn’t a great deal of snow on the ground in the city centre, and it had largely turned to slush, the cold moisture splashing up her legs as she half ran, half walked towards the local authority building.
For the Sake of the Children: The first Chloe Webster thriller (Chloe Webster Thrillers Book 1) Page 10