by Jaime Raven
The rear window was lowered and Rosetti’s face appeared.
‘Cheer up, Boyd,’ he said. ‘You win some, you lose some.’
Adam felt the bile rise in his throat. ‘We may have lost the battle, scumbag,’ he said. ‘But not the war. It won’t be long before I collar you for something you won’t be able to wriggle out of.’
‘Don’t waste taxpayers’ money,’ Rosetti said. ‘It will never happen. Besides, I should be the least of your worries.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Rosetti grinned, showing a set of yellow teeth. ‘You’ll find out soon enough – word is, you’re in for a nasty surprise.’
Adam took a step forward, but Rosetti tapped the driver’s shoulder and the Mercedes drove off, tyres squealing.
Adam stared after it, cursing under his breath. It wasn’t the veiled threat that infuriated him – he’d received so many over the years that he no longer took them seriously. No, it was the fact that he knew that getting Rosetti into the dock again was going to be hellishly difficult, if not impossible.
He dropped what remained of his cigarette and ground it into the pavement with the heel of his shoe. Then just as he was about to cross back over the road he felt his phone vibrate again with another message.
This time he whipped it out of his pocket and saw that both messages had come from DCI Dave Brennan, who was asking him to call as a matter of urgency. Brennan was his ex-wife’s boss and it was a long time since he’d heard from the guy.
Adam arched his brow and called the number. He had no idea, of course, that the bad day he was having was about to turn into his worst nightmare.
5
Sarah
I was in Mrs Loyd’s back garden puffing on a cigarette while praying that my daughter hadn’t been lost to me forever. But it was impossible to keep the negative thoughts at bay. They taunted me, each one a loud, desperate scream inside my head.
Two hours had passed since Brennan and I had arrived at my parents’ house and a lot had happened in that time. My mother had been taken to hospital to be checked over, a police car had been dispatched to pick my father up from his allotment and take him there too, and I’d been sick twice – once on the kitchen floor and once in her downstairs toilet. Luckily I’d known my mother’s neighbour Mrs Loyd for years and she told me not to worry, that she would clean it up.
I was still in a state of raw shock, only half aware of what was going on around me.
A PC was with me in the garden. Her name was Penny and we knew each other fairly well. She kept telling me that everything would be all right and I would soon be reunited with Molly. But, of course, she couldn’t possibly know that and was just saying it to make me feel better.
But words alone were not going to relieve the emotional turmoil that was raging inside me. I needed to find my baby, to see her smile, hear her laugh, hold her in my arms.
I was clutching my mobile phone in my free hand, willing it to ring, for the kidnapper to make contact. If he called to demand a ransom then I’d willingly pay it, no matter how much it was. I’d move heaven and earth to get Molly back, sell my flat if need be, borrow the rest. That wouldn’t be a problem. And I was sure to get all the help I needed from Adam and my parents.
The sun was beating down as I paced up and down the garden, Penny watching from the patio with her arms folded across her chest.
For some reason that made me angry. Why didn’t she appear upset? Why was her face so expressionless? Didn’t she realise how bad this was and how hard it was for me to keep from screaming?
But then it hit me. She was just being professional, doing her job. In the same way I’d done mine for years. Only this time the tables had turned on me and I was the victim, along with Molly and my mother. It was a new and terrifying experience.
Next door in my parents’ garden several uniformed officers were carrying out a search. They were checking to see if there was any evidence to suggest that the kidnapper had taken Molly out the back way.
There was a small patch of woodland on the other side of the fence at the bottom of the garden. Beyond that was a road that wasn’t overlooked by houses or flats. Brennan had already raised the possibility that the kidnapper had parked a car or van out there. He’d also told me in the last half hour that none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything.
Mrs Lloyd had been in her bathroom when the kidnapping took place and hadn’t become aware of what had happened until the police called on her.
I wanted to do something, to join the search, put my police skills to good use, but right now I was in no fit state to be of any use. My body was numb, my mind in utter disarray, and I felt smothered by a dark blanket of despair.
When Brennan suddenly stepped out onto the patio, my stomach leapt. I assumed straight away that it was bad news.
‘Don’t panic,’ he said quickly. ‘There’s been no change. I’ve come to tell you that Molly’s father has arrived. If you pop back in I can update you both at the same time.’
My legs threatened to collapse under me as I walked towards the house, and I could feel a fresh batch of tears building behind my eyes.
When I entered the kitchen and saw Adam standing there next to Brennan, I totally lost control and broke down. Adam rushed over and put an arm around me, and I sobbed into his shoulder. We were used to seeing each other during his frequent visits to the flat to pick Molly up, but this was the first time we’d had physical contact since the divorce.
He spoke in a soothing voice, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I was just glad he was there and the scent of him filled every intake of breath.
When I eventually stopped crying, Brennan handed me a tissue and I used it to dry my eyes. Then I stepped back out of Adam’s embrace and looked up at him.
At six feet he was a good four inches taller than me and was wearing a dark suit and white open-neck shirt. His familiar face was sharp and angular, with high cheekbones and a thin nose. But his expression was totally unfamiliar, a mixture of fear and incredulity. Sweat had gathered in the creases of his brow and his lips were drawn into a tight line.
‘I’ve been told what’s happened, Sarah,’ he said, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘I can’t believe it. Why would anyone take Molly, for God’s sake?’
I had a sudden, violent urge to vomit again. Brennan must have sensed it because he quickly pulled over a chair and told me to sit down.
Adam came and stood in front of me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I could feel the tension in his fingers.
He held out his other hand and said, ‘Can I see the photo?’
Before I gave the phone to him I opened up the message.
‘You should check that first,’ I said.
He clamped his top lip between his teeth as he read the text.
‘This is fucking insane,’ he said. ‘What kind of lunatic would pull a stunt like this?’
He took a shivering breath and exhaled, then tapped on the photo.
I watched the muscles in his neck tighten as he stared at it, his eyes narrowing to slits.
‘Do you by any chance recognise that room?’ Brennan asked him.
Adam’s eyebrows knitted together, and for just a moment hope surged within me.
Please say yes, I wanted to cry out. Please tell us you know who lives there and where it is.
But after an agonising wait he shook his head and my insides shrivelled up.
‘I’ve never seen it before,’ he said. ‘I’m absolutely sure of it.’
He continued to stare at the photo and I saw his eyes start to glisten with tears.
‘The bloke who did this obviously knew that Molly would be with her grandmother,’ Brennan said. ‘It’s likely he was watching the house and waiting for your father to leave before striking. That suggests he knew that you were all locked into a routine. And it also suggests that you might know him – or them – since it’s quite possible he wasn’t acting alone.’
It was somethin
g that hadn’t occurred to me because my head was all over the place. But now the thought that Molly had fallen prey to more than one man sent my pulse racing.
‘Can you think of anyone you know who’d be capable of this, Sarah?’ Brennan said. ‘Or someone you’ve seen around who was perhaps acting suspiciously?’
I narrowed my eyes, tried to focus, but it was hopeless.
‘I can’t,’ I said.
‘Well keep thinking,’ Brennan said. ‘Something might come to you.’
No one spoke for at least twenty seconds, and the silence threatened to become deafening. Finally Brennan said, ‘You both need to know that we’ve had no success tracing the message. It must have come from an unregistered phone that’s now switched off.’
Adam turned to face him. ‘What time was Molly taken?’
‘Well according to Mrs Mason the guy arrived here at just before nine.’
‘And this message was received about an hour later?’
‘Just over. We’re checking all CCTV and road cameras within a half-mile radius. Unfortunately there aren’t any in this street or in any of those around it.’
‘What about the neighbours? Someone must have seen something.’
Brennan shrugged. ‘We’re still going door-to-door, but none of those we’ve spoken to so far saw a man with a child around the time it happened.’
Adam twisted his lower jaw, considering. Unlike me he was still able to think like a police officer, despite the shock to his system. That was impressive. My brain was far too splintered, and I was struggling to focus on anything other than Molly’s startled expression in the photograph.
‘What about Sarah’s mum?’ Adam said. ‘Has she been able to give you anything useful?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Brennan said. ‘I’ve sent officers to the hospital to get a formal statement from her, but the kidnapper was wearing a balaclava of some sort when she answered the door. The one thing she is certain of is that it was a man and not a woman. He grabbed her and put a scarf doused in chloroform against her face. She was unconscious in seconds then woke up tied to the chair and saw that Molly was gone.’
Brennan went on to say that a full-blown search of the immediate area was under way and that the photo of Molly on the sofa would shortly be sent to media outlets.
‘Reporters and television crews will soon start to descend,’ he said. ‘It’ll turn into a media circus outside for sure. So I suggest that you go home.’
‘I don’t want to go home,’ I said. ‘I have to be involved in this. I have to help find my daughter.’
‘You know that’s not going to be possible,’ Brennan said. ‘You’ve both got to step back and let us get on with it.’
This was something I was going to find hard to accept, but I knew we’d have no choice. We were the parents of the child who had been abducted. It meant we could not be involved in the investigation. We’d just have to sit it out and pray that our colleagues got a quick result. But it wasn’t going to be easy.
‘Come on, Sarah,’ Adam said. ‘I’ll take you home. There’s nothing we can do here anyway.’
Every nerve in my body was vibrating as I stood up. Despite my best efforts, my eyes began to fill with tears, but something in me resolved not to break down again.
‘If there’s a development, I’ll be sure to let you know straight away,’ Brennan told me.
He walked with us to the door and said that a number of officers, including someone from family liaison, would be sent to my place to be with us.
I knew the drill, of course. And I knew that the Met would commit a huge amount of resources to finding Molly, and to providing us with support. They would look after their own.
But what I didn’t know was that the person who had taken my daughter would soon be making contact again.
And sending me another photograph.
6
Sarah
The drive to my duplex flat in Dulwich was akin to an out-of-body experience. It felt like I was looking down on someone who wasn’t me.
Surely the real Sarah Mason was at work, investigating crimes, while her daughter was playing safely with her grandmother. It was inconceivable that she was actually in her ex-husband’s car fearing that she would never see their daughter again.
The reality of the situation was almost too painful to face up to. But I knew I had to, and it was making me feel light-headed and dizzy.
I drew some comfort at least from Adam’s presence. It meant the burden of despair could be shared between us.
My ex had many faults, but among his strong points was an ability to hold his nerve, even in the most perilous of situations. It was something I’d discovered when we’d worked together in Lewisham CID. He was always so sure of himself, always in control. It was what made him a better than average detective.
I turned to look at him and saw a face that was pinched and solemn, and his hands were gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles were white.
‘I never thought I could be this scared,’ I said, my voice breaking. ‘I can’t stop wondering what’s happened to our baby.’
‘We have to stay positive,’ Adam said. ‘We’ve both dealt with other parents in this position and that’s what we told them they should do.’
‘But that was our job. This is our life. It’s so different.’
‘I know. But all the more reason to be strong and to keep telling ourselves that we’ll get Molly back.’
‘But I can’t help thinking …’
My breath got caught in my throat, cutting off the words. I closed my eyes and tears pressed against the lids, burning as they fought to escape.
It was at this point that guilt reared its ugly head for the first time. I suddenly felt that I was to blame for what had happened because I hadn’t been there for my daughter. Instead, I’d been content to palm her off on my mother so that I could continue pursuing a career as a police officer.
Now she was gone I had no choice but to accept some of the responsibility. I’d been selfish by opting to be a cop rather than a full-time mum.
And whatever happened in the coming hours and days, it was something for which I’d never be able to forgive myself.
My split-level flat was on the top floor of a four-storey, modern block off Lordship Lane, just a few hundred yards from Dulwich Park. It had two bedrooms, a balcony, and plenty of living space. The estate agent had described it as a ‘luxury duplex penthouse’, which made it sound posher and grander than it actually was.
Adam and I had lived there during our three years of marriage, and it came to me as part of the divorce settlement. He kept the buy-to-let flat we owned in Mitcham, so in our case the division of assets had been fairly straightforward and uncontroversial.
Adam had been here numerous times during the last six months, after Molly had reached an age when he could take her on days out and for overnight stays at his place.
Despite the fact that he had fucked up our marriage I’d never made it difficult for him to have access to his daughter. He may have been a shit husband but he was a pretty good father. And that was why I knew that the pain he was feeling was just as acute as mine.
There were two police patrol cars already parked in front of my block when we arrived. That wasn’t unexpected, but it did cause my stomach to fold in on itself. It was another unwelcome image, another gut-wrenching reminder that I wasn’t about to wake up from a terrible nightmare.
Adam parked in one of the bays and we both climbed out. A woman in a grey trouser suit approached and I recognised her as Sergeant Rachel Palmer, from the family liaison team. She was tall, with dark, shoulder-length hair and a face that was conventionally pretty. She asked if it would be all right to come up to the flat and that other officers would stay downstairs to fend off the reporters and photographers when they started to turn up, as was inevitable.
I said it was fine and she introduced herself to Adam, who led the way into the block and up the stairs to the apartment.
; Once inside, Palmer offered to make some tea while Adam and I went into the living room.
The first thing to seize my attention was the box of Molly’s toys next to the sofa. The sight of it hit me for six and violent shudders racked my body.
‘This should never have happened,’ I said. ‘It’s my fault, all my fault.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Adam said. ‘Of course it’s not.’
‘But if she had been with me she wouldn’t have been taken.’
Adam guided me to the sofa. I was shaking convulsively and my heart felt like it was on fire.
‘You need something to help you cope with the shock,’ Adam said. ‘Maybe I should call a doctor.’
I shook my head. ‘It won’t do any good. I just have to get a grip.’ But I knew that was going to be a lot easier said than done.
He sat opposite me in the armchair, threw himself back against the cushion and stared up at the ceiling. His face was a portrait of anguish and disbelief, his mouth drawn in tight. The light had gone from his eyes and I could tell that he was also struggling to control his emotions.
‘Thanks for bringing me home,’ I said. ‘Are you going to stay?’
He wiped his hands across his face and then looked at me.
‘Of course I am,’ he said. ‘We might not be together anymore but that doesn’t mean I’d let you go through this by yourself. Molly’s our baby. We have to face this together.’
For a few minutes we sat in silence, tormented by our own dark thoughts. Then Palmer appeared and put a tray of teas on the coffee table.
She was about to speak when my phone pinged to indicate an incoming text message. It came as such a shock that I leapt to my feet and the phone fell from my lap onto the floor.
I felt a shiver of apprehension as I reached down for it. My hand shook as I opened up the message. I could feel Adam’s and Palmer’s eyes on me and the tension in the room was almost palpable.
The message appeared and I read it out loud.
It’s me again. There are two attachments. The first is a photograph of your daughter having an afternoon nap in her new cot. The second is a document that you need to read.