by Jaime Raven
Familiar images appeared on the screen as the laptop came to life and the adrenaline spike snatched my breath away.
Adam gently squeezed my shoulder. Palmer leaned in even closer. And the fear pressed down on me like a lead weight.
Finally the laptop was up and running and I went straight to my Hotmail account.
The message was there, along with the attached video, which I immediately dumped into the download file. I then went to the file but hesitated before opening up the clip.
‘Would you like me to take a look first?’ Palmer asked.
I shook my head and clicked on the mouse. The audio track engaged first and a child’s ear-splitting scream tore into my soul a millisecond before Molly appeared. I had to fight back a violent urge to be sick again when I saw what the heartless bastard was doing to her.
16
DCI Brennan
Brennan called all his detectives together and told them that the kidnapper had made contact again.
‘This time it’s by email as well as text,’ he said. ‘Sergeant Palmer will send the email to us in the next few minutes. I want you to get straight to work trying to trace it back to the sender.’
He explained that the email had a video attachment that Sarah was about to view.
‘I’m assuming it’s in response to the fuck-up over the photo,’ he said. ‘If it is, then it could mean he’s done something nasty to the child. Let’s hope not, but we need to be prepared.’
He could see the concern etched on the faces of his detectives. Every man and woman on the team knew Sarah and most of them had worked with her. A good few had also met Molly and had made a fuss over her when Sarah had brought her into the office to show her off.
Brennan retreated to his office and got on the phone to tell his superiors he was pushing back the conference call so that he could provide them with the very latest information. Then he sat behind his desk to wait for Sergeant Palmer to call. But when his phone rang after about a minute it wasn’t her on the line.
‘It’s me, guv.’ Brennan recognised the distinctive Scottish voice of DC Phil Stewart who had been out of the office all afternoon, trying to track down Edwin Sharp.
‘What have you got for me, Phil?’ Brennan said.
‘I just spoke to Edwin Sharp’s probation officer, guv. She’s confirmed that she did know that Sharp was evicted from the flat at the end of his first week out of prison. He made a point of telling her.’
‘Does she know where he is now?’
‘She’s given me an address in Tooting. It’s a flat that belongs to one of his old mates from his time in the city.’
‘Terrific. Text it to me and we’ll pay him a visit.’
Brennan hung up and then made a call to arrange for a tactical team to be put on standby and be ready to descend on Sharp’s place in Tooting.
If Sharp had Molly, then they needed to move as quickly as possible. If he didn’t, then at least they could eliminate him from their inquiries and focus on other suspects.
Brennan checked his watch. Several minutes had passed since Sergeant Palmer had called him. So why hadn’t she phoned back?
17
Sarah
Watching the video clip was like having my heart cut out with a knife. It was painful beyond words.
I wanted to turn away but I couldn’t. I felt compelled to bear witness to the cruelty that was being inflicted on my poor, defenceless daughter.
Molly was being held upside down by her right ankle and dangled naked in front of the camera.
The kidnapper stood to the left just out of shot. Only his hands were visible – one holding her up while he viciously smacked her bare bottom with the other.
She was crying like I’d never seen her cry before. Her eyes were squeezed shut but the tears were spilling from them.
The sound of his hand striking her flesh every two or three seconds hit me like a bolt of electricity. Molly’s pale little body stiffened with every blow and phlegm sprayed out of her mouth and nose.
‘Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening,’ Sergeant Palmer wailed suddenly.
And yet it was happening, and before our very eyes. My baby was being brutally abused, for no other reason than to teach me, her mother, a lesson. I could feel her pain, see the terror and confusion on her screwed-up face.
I instinctively reached out a hand towards the screen, towards Molly, thinking in a moment of madness that I could pull her away from her tormentor. But just as I did so the video came to an abrupt end.
However the images continued to play on a loop inside my mind, like a ghastly horror movie that I couldn’t switch off.
I battled the impulse to scream, but I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, or the rush of nausea from sweeping through my body.
Adam dropped onto the chair next to me and when our eyes met his face crumbled. I’d never seen him cry in all the years we’d known each other, but it didn’t surprise me. His love for Molly was as strong as mine and he was just as devastated by what we had just seen.
‘We need to forward the video to the DCI,’ Sergeant Palmer said, her composure regained. ‘Would you like me to do it?’
‘Let me look at it again,’ I said. ‘I want to see if there are any clues.’
I said it without thinking but realised that it was a subconscious reaction, a way for me to deal with the horror that was consuming me. Acting like a cop might stop me from falling to pieces and would help me to feel less useless.
‘You should leave that to us,’ Sergeant Palmer said. ‘There’s no point torturing yourself.’
‘She’s right,’ Adam said, before I could argue the point. ‘I doubt there’ll be any clues. The clip only lasts twelve seconds. There was just a bare wall in the background and all we saw of the guy were his arms and hands. There were no tattoos or rings on his fingers and he didn’t speak. We learned only that he’s pretty strong and fucking cruel.’
His voice came out shaking and I could tell that he was fighting to calm it. Tears were spilling from his eyes and sweat sparkled like fine dew on his forehead.
I wanted to respond but I was too choked up to speak. All I had seen on the video was my daughter hanging upside down and screaming. I hadn’t registered any other details.
Adam dipped his gaze, breaking eye contact, and I watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
‘The man who has Molly is no fool, Sarah,’ he said, his voice a hollow rasp. ‘We have to accept that he’s not likely to make any silly mistakes with the photos and video clips he sends to you.’
I was still trying to process this, and to accept the truth of his words, when Sergeant Palmer spoke up.
‘That might not actually be the case,’ she said, and we both looked at her as though she had suddenly entered the room.
‘What are you on about?’ I said.
She flicked her head towards the laptop.
‘It’s the way the video was shot,’ she said. ‘When it started I assumed the camera was in a static position, like it was on a shelf or something. But halfway through, it moved – only slightly, but enough to make me think that someone else was holding it.’
18
DCI Brennan
Brennan felt his eyes bulge as he viewed the video clip. He had seen some terrible things during his years on the job, but this was something to add to the list of dreadful sights that had affected him.
As he watched Molly Mason being held upside down and smacked, he couldn’t help thinking about his own grandson, Michael. The boy wasn’t much older than Molly and Brennan loved him with all his heart. He could imagine how he would feel if it was Michael who was being beaten like that.
His own reaction to the video was all the more intense because he felt partly responsible. If the photo of Molly on the sofa hadn’t been released to the media by mistake then perhaps the kidnapper wouldn’t have felt it necessary to hurt her.
He played the clip for the fourth time, hunched over his desk like a quest
ion mark. It certainly looked as though Sergeant Palmer was right. The camera did move slightly about halfway through. That could have been because the surface it was resting on – a tripod maybe – had shifted fractionally for any number of reasons. Or it could mean that it was being held by another person – an accomplice. If so, then it was hugely significant, if not entirely unexpected.
Brennan sucked his lips in thought, his anxiety as taut as a membrane. The idea that the kidnapper might not be working alone gave rise to many more questions.
Was it some other lunatic who felt he had a score to settle with Sarah Mason?
Was it a friend or relative of the kidnapper who had been drawn into it willingly or against their will? A girlfriend even? It happened.
Or was this a gang-related abduction that involved a whole bunch of reprobates?
It was yet another aspect of the case that they would need to factor into the media strategy. Deciding how much to make public was a real dilemma, though, especially after the cock-up with the photograph. It was essential to control the release of information and yet at the same time keep the press onside in order to get as much help from them as possible.
The papers were already working up a head of steam because they sensed that this was not a straightforward child abduction. And after the Yard insisted that the photo of Molly be pulled, they’d become even more suspicious. Reporters had been hounding the press office for several hours and a number of detectives had been receiving calls from their contacts in the media. The story was getting bigger by the minute, but then, given the various elements, that was bound to be the case.
A fifteen-month-old child snatched from her grandparents’ home in broad daylight by a man wearing a balaclava. And not just any child – Molly Mason was the daughter of two senior detectives in the Met. There was enough there already to make it big news across the country.
But once the hacks found out about the apparent motive behind the abduction, and about the photos and video clip, the story would become a worldwide blockbuster.
For that reason, Brennan wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow’s press conference. They’d be put on the spot for sure and it was going to be hard to justify holding stuff back – even though there was no telling how the kidnapper – or kidnappers – would react.
Brennan spent twenty minutes on the conference call updating his superiors. When he returned to the incident room, the operation was in overdrive, even though it was almost 11 p.m.
The team had seen the video clip of Molly being smacked and the impact on them had been profound. Two of the detectives – a man and a woman – had actually been moved to tears. Even Brennan found it difficult to control his emotions as he addressed them.
‘If we didn’t know before that the man who has abducted Molly Mason is a vicious psychopath then we do now,’ he told them. ‘And we also know that there is a strong possibility that he has at least one accomplice, and it could be a man or a woman.’
Brennan then announced that he was about to head up a raid on Edwin Sharp’s new flat in Tooting. He nominated three officers to go with him and told the rest to chase down every conceivable angle.
‘Prioritise all persons of interest,’ he said. ‘That includes everyone with an MO that fits the bill. And put pressure on the computer wizards. I want to know who sent that bloody email to Sarah.’
Brennan made one quick call before leaving the station. He wanted to say goodnight to his wife before she went to bed. Grace was a night owl who loved to sit up late watching box sets and movies. It was a simple pleasure that might soon be denied her.
According to her prognosis she had about a year before the dementia started to seriously impact on her life. No one could be sure to what degree it would impair her judgement and ravage her memory. But it was certainly going to change her from the fun-loving, intelligent woman that he’d married.
‘I have to go out,’ he told her. ‘And I know for sure now that I won’t be coming home tonight.’
‘Is the little girl still missing?’ she asked him.
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Then I’ll say a prayer for her and her mother.’
‘You do that, sweetheart. And don’t forget to take your pills.’
‘And don’t you forget to stay safe and not to take any risks.’
She said it whenever he phoned her from work and every time he left home in the morning. It was one of the many little things he loved about her. And it scared him to think that at some point in the not too distant future she would probably stop saying it.
19
Sarah
‘Molly has never been smacked. She’s only ever known people to be kind to her.’
I was rambling on as the haunted space in my heart grew with every single beat. I had never felt so scared, so helpless. My chest was tight and burning and my head was filled with my daughter’s screams.
We were back in the living room and Sergeant Palmer had made me a cup of tea which sat untouched on the coffee table in front of me.
I was still grappling with what she’d said about the movement of the camera. Did it mean that the man had at least one accomplice? And if so, was that person just as vicious and heartless?
‘It’s making me sick imagining what he – or they – could be doing to her,’ I sobbed. ‘She’s just a baby. She’ll be thinking that I’ve deserted her.’
I choked on my own tears and started coughing. Adam lowered himself onto the sofa next to me and I felt his hand on my shoulder. When I stopped coughing he said something, but the noise in my head prevented me from hearing what it was. I didn’t care because no words were going to erase the pain I was experiencing. I felt as if I had been torn inside out while a cold fist was squeezing my heart.
I saw then that lines of strain had appeared around Adam’s mouth and his eyes were dull with shock. Sandpaper stubble coated his chin and the veins were bulging out of his neck.
The situation was taking its toll on both of us, physically and mentally. I felt sure that if I looked in a mirror I wouldn’t recognise myself.
Molly’s screams continued to echo in my head and when I closed my eyes I saw her face, the features distorted with distress.
I went to the drinks cabinet and poured another whisky. I downed it in one go and it made me shiver and gag. I then walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains.
‘I closed them because of all the press outside,’ Sergeant Palmer said behind me.
I could see a crowd of men and woman down below. They’d been pushed back by a couple of uniformed police officers into the parking area where they would no doubt spend the night.
I was spotted within seconds and there was a flurry of activity. Cameras flashed and I heard several people shout my name.
It suddenly occurred to me that there was no good reason not to talk to the media, given that Brennan was planning a press conference anyway in the morning if Molly hadn’t been found.
So I asked myself why I shouldn’t confront them now and make a direct appeal to the kidnapper. He was bound to be watching the news and it was just possible that what I had to say might weaken his resolve.
I thought about it for a few seconds and then found myself rushing towards the front door, intent on exiting the flat before Adam and Sergeant Palmer realised what I was going to do and tried to talk me out of it.
Sergeant Palmer called out to me, but by then I was hurtling down the stairs, while desperately trying to assemble my thoughts.
I knew I looked a mess, but I was hoping that would work to my advantage. I wanted the kidnapper to see that he had already succeeded in punishing me. Perhaps then he would show some compassion and let Molly go.
As I walked outside, my gait was unsteady and the breath thundered in my ears. I told myself that I had to stay calm and put my message across as strongly and as clearly as possible. And when the questions came I would answer them truthfully and without hesitation.
I had grown used to confrontin
g the media in my capacity as a detective. But this was different and it was not going to be so easy because now I was the distraught mother of a stolen baby and not an experienced copper doing her job.
My appearance outside sparked an immediate reaction and the crowd of reporters and photographers surged forward, leaving the two police officers on duty powerless to stop them.
Lenses were trained on me, questions were fired, and flashbulbs popped.
I stopped on the edge of the parking area and blinked against the harsh beam of light from a TV camera.
‘Have you come to make a statement, Sarah?’ one reporter shouted.
‘Do you know why your daughter was taken?’ yelled another.
I folded my arms tightly across my chest and felt a ball in my throat. I told myself to stay calm, that I couldn’t allow myself to fall apart.
The man who has Molly needs to hear what you have to say. You have to try to convince him to end his brutal and sadistic mission.
My lips felt dry so I ran my tongue along them, then inhaled several times to help compose myself. The whisky still coated the inside of my mouth and I hoped that nobody would smell it on my breath.
I started to speak just as Adam and Sergeant Palmer appeared either side of me. Adam gripped my elbow and said, ‘You shouldn’t be doing this, Sarah. You’re in no fit state.’
I pulled my arm free. ‘I have to,’ I replied through pinched lips. ‘I can’t just sit around doing nothing.’
He said something I didn’t catch and stepped back, probably because he knew there was no point arguing with me.
I then raised a hand to stop the questions which were now coming thick and fast.
‘I want to make an appeal,’ I said, my voice thick and scratchy. ‘I want to appeal to the man who has taken my daughter to please let her go. She’s just a baby and I miss her so much.’