The Mother

by Jaime Raven

  By the time we got to New Scotland Yard I had a dull headache and my mouth felt uncomfortably dry.

  It said something about the importance of the case that the press conference was being held there and not in Wandsworth. I soon discovered that it was partly due to the fact that the Commissioner himself was keen to be on hand to give interviews. According to Brennan, he wanted it to be known that the case was a top priority – not just because it involved a child, but also because the parents were two serving police officers in the Met. I’d never met the man but it sounded like he was genuinely concerned and I appreciated his input.

  As soon as we arrived, Brennan ushered us into an office he’d been allocated. I could tell that like the rest of us he hadn’t had any sleep. His face was lined with emotion and fatigue, and there were bags under his eyes.

  ‘The press conference begins in fifteen minutes,’ he said. ‘In a moment I’ll go through how we intend to approach it. But first I need to give you an update.’

  He started with Victor Rosetti. The Romanian was still in custody and still insisting that he didn’t tell Adam that he was in for a nasty surprise.

  Adam started to speak but Brennan raised a hand to stop him.

  ‘Right now it’s just your word against his, I’m afraid. And his two minders are backing him up. Plus, the search of his house hasn’t turned up anything at all to link him to your daughter.’

  Adam’s face contorted in anger. ‘So that’s it? You’re just going to let him go?’

  ‘We’ll hold him as long as we can while we make further inquiries. We’re talking to his associates to find out who does and doesn’t have an alibi for yesterday morning when Molly was taken.’

  Adam shook his head and blew out his cheeks. He was poised to pursue the subject but Brennan didn’t give him the chance.

  ‘We’ve made more progress with Edwin Sharp, though,’ he said. ‘A short time ago Sharp finally decided to tell us what he’s been up to. However, from what he said and what we know I’m 99 per cent sure he didn’t snatch your daughter.’

  ‘Why have you come to that conclusion?’ I said. ‘Given that the man’s a paedophile and he threatened to see to me when he got out of prison.’

  Brennan covered his mouth with his fist as he cleared his throat. ‘There are CCTV cameras at either end of the street where he lives in Tooting,’ he said. ‘An hour ago we were able to view the footage from yesterday and he doesn’t appear until midday, which tallies with what he told us about staying in bed until eleven.’

  ‘But you said he’d been monitoring the story and had even printed the picture of Molly,’ I pointed out.

  ‘That’s right. He says he was keen to know what was happening because he was pleased that it was happening to you. He admits he still harbours a grudge against you but never had any intention of doing anything about it upon his release. He printed the picture so that he could upset you more by defacing it with crude drawings of penises and smiley faces. He also wrote on it that he hoped Molly would be raped and murdered and that it was her mother’s fault for leaving her.’

  I gasped and my skin suddenly felt hot and prickly.

  ‘He put the picture in an envelope last evening and posted it to you from outside his local superstore,’ Brennan said. ‘It would have arrived at the station later today or tomorrow. He says he saw a way to get back at you and seized the opportunity. In other words, he decided to ride on the kidnapper’s back and add to your agony by sending the picture.’

  ‘The sick bastard,’ Adam said.

  Brennan nodded. ‘Needless to say you won’t have to see what he did. The post was picked up this morning from the postbox in question, but I’ve got an officer down at the sorting office to intercept it.’

  I scrunched up my eyes, trying to focus on what he was saying, but the image in my head of Molly’s photo being defaced in that way was a powerful distraction.

  ‘We’ll continue to question the scumbag,’ Brennan said. ‘I’ve already charged him with downloading child porn from the internet, but I’m inclined to believe him when he says he’s not involved in Molly’s abduction. He was in custody when you received the latest text. I know it’s theoretically possible that he triggered it on a time delay, but I don’t think he did. And we haven’t uncovered any evidence to suggest he has an accomplice.’

  None of this was what I wanted to hear. It seemed our hopes had been raised for no good reason. As a police officer, I’d grown used to such disappointments during an investigation. But as the mother of a stolen child they were like daggers being plunged into my heart.

  Brennan looked at his watch. ‘It’s almost time, so let me thank you for agreeing to do this press conference. I appreciate that it’s not going to be easy, especially now that the media know much more about what’s going on. They’ll have questions about the text messages and about the video. But I’ll provide most of the answers during the introduction. It’ll then be up to you, as Molly’s parents, to appeal for information and for your daughter’s safe return. Explain what Molly means to you and ask the public to be vigilant. What you said outside your flat last night had a significant impact, Sarah. This press conference will enable us to keep up the momentum and reach an even wider audience.’

  Brennan looked from me to Adam and then stood up, buttoning his jacket as he did so.

  ‘So are you ready, guys?’ he said.

  I took a moment to swallow down the growing lump in my throat, then gave a slow nod.

  A moment later my stomach was cramping with nerves as I followed my boss and my ex-husband out of the office.

  As we walked into the room, we faced a blizzard of flashing lights. There must have been fifty reporters and photographers and at least two TV camera crews.

  I felt my knees wobble as we took our seats behind a table covered with microphones.

  Adam and I sat side by side and Brennan sat on my left. A man I recognised as the head of media relations filled the chair next to Adam. He was the one who got the ball rolling by introducing the DCI.

  Brennan remained seated as he thanked everyone for coming and then said, ‘Molly Mason’s parents are here so that they can appeal for help in finding their daughter. They’re desperately worried about Molly who was abducted yesterday from her grandparents’ house in Streatham. In a moment I will invite them to speak, but can I ask that any questions be directed at me as the senior investigating officer on this case?’

  Brennan then gave a pretty detailed account of everything that had happened. He told them about the text messages and the reason the kidnapper had given for taking Molly. He also mentioned the photographs and video and explained why the images were not to be made public.

  ‘The texts and emails were sent anonymously,’ he said. ‘But experts within our High Tech Crime Unit are trying to identify the sender. If they’re successful, then it could help us to establish Molly’s whereabouts.’

  There followed a raucous Q and A session in which Brennan was asked about the two suspects who were being held. He was forced to admit that one of them would probably be released shortly while the other faced a charge in connection with an unrelated crime.

  ‘So does it mean that Molly’s kidnapper is still out there?’ a reporter asked.

  ‘I’m afraid it does,’ Brennan said. ‘That’s why we urgently need help from the public on this case, which is one of the most bizarre the Met has ever had to deal with.’

  The time came for us to say a few words and Adam followed up on his offer to go first.

  ‘Sarah and I were divorced some time ago, but we’ve remained close because of our daughter Molly,’ he said. ‘She means the world to us. She’s a beautiful, sweet little girl and we can’t bear to think that bad things are happening to her. If the man who took her is watching, then I’m begging him to return her to us. Please. He’s breaking our hearts.’

  He stopped there and pressed his fingers into his eyes, but not before a couple of tears sluiced down his cheeks.


  The hairs on my neck bristled when I realised that all eyes in the room were then on me. For a split second I didn’t think I had it in me to speak. But after I exhaled a long, shaky breath the words tumbled out.

  ‘I miss my baby so much,’ I said. ‘Every second she’s not with me is sheer agony. I don’t know why this is happening. The man who took her claims he did it in order to punish me. But he won’t tell me what I’m supposed to have done. I can’t help thinking he’s made a mistake, that it’s someone else and not me he wants to hurt.’

  That was as far as I got before an emotional wave slammed into me. I didn’t cry or break down. Instead I shuddered violently and lost my train of thought. My head dropped and I stared down at the table as around me the noise level rose dramatically.

  I felt myself being pulled up. My chair scraped across the floor. Someone called out my name. Then I became aware that Adam was pushing me towards the door and Brennan was telling everyone that the press conference was over.

  Adam put his arm around me and led me out of the room. A woman in a dark trouser suit was waiting for us in the corridor. She quickly introduced herself as Frances from the press office and said, ‘Are you all right, Miss Mason?’

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  ‘Just take a breath then,’ she said. ‘We’ve set aside a room so that you can relax and have another chat with DCI Brennan before you go. There’s tea, coffee and soft drinks.’

  The room was small but contained two leather sofas and a coffee table. The drinks were on a hospitality trolley.

  Frances invited us to sit down and asked us what we wanted. We both opted for tea.

  ‘My brain just seized up in there,’ I said to Adam. ‘There was so much more I wanted to say. But I froze.’

  ‘Me too. But at least we got our message across.’

  Just then Brennan walked in and asked if we were all right and we both nodded.

  ‘Well, calls are already coming in apparently and we’ve got dozens of officers on standby to answer them,’ he said.

  I started to ask a question, but at that moment I heard the familiar and now dreaded sound of my phone pinging with another incoming text message. I had already taken it from my bag and it was gripped in my right hand.

  ‘It could be anyone,’ Adam said.

  But I had a feeling it was the kidnapper, and I was right. There was a message with an MP4 video attachment.

  I pressed my thumb against the attachment before reading the message, so anxious was I to see what was on it. I half expected it not to work like before but this time it did play and my heart jumped when I saw Molly sitting in a bath surrounded by thick white foam.

  But there was something different about her, and when I realised what it was I let out a strangled cry.

  26

  DCI Brennan

  Sarah’s reaction to the video made everyone jump. She turned her stricken gaze on Brennan and held up her phone for him to take.

  He grabbed it from her as Adam rushed across the room and the two of them viewed it together.

  The relief the detective felt was electrifying. This time the kidnapper wasn’t smacking Molly. Instead she was splashing around in a bath while clutching a small rubber duck. And she appeared to be content rather than distressed. But he knew what had sparked Sarah’s reaction and Adam confirmed it.

  ‘My God, look what he’s done to her hair,’ Adam shrieked. ‘He’s cut it short and dyed it brown.’

  Brennan then read aloud the text message that accompanied the video.

  Hi Sarah – Seems my little darling has already forgotten what happened to her yesterday. I’m sure it won’t be long before she forgets you as well! Hope you like her new look – I much prefer it. But don’t forget if any part of this video is made public Molly will suffer. Next time I might be tempted to take her virginity.

  Adam reacted angrily by kicking out, his shoe striking the drinks trolley, sending two glasses and a plate of biscuits flying across the room.

  Brennan placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder and his fellow detective turned to look at him, his eyes brimming with tears, his nostrils flared like a bull’s.

  ‘I swear I’m going to find that cunt and kill him,’ he snarled. ‘I’ll make him wish he’d never been born.’

  Brennan shared this sentiment and at that moment he would have gladly throttled the kidnapper with his bare hands regardless of the consequences.

  ‘He’s messed with her hair so that it’ll be more difficult for people to recognise her,’ Sarah said, her voice a hoarse whisper. ‘I bet it’s another reason he doesn’t want the photos and clips to be made public. The man’s sick and evil.’

  Brennan was already thinking ahead and wondering whether they should doctor one of the photos they had of Molly so they could show the public what she looked like now. Or would that antagonise the kidnapper and give him another excuse to hurt her?

  His threat to rape the child was a chilling reminder that they were being forced to play by his rules. Trouble was, he hadn’t spelled out exactly what those rules were.

  ‘I need to get out of here,’ Sarah said as she rose suddenly to her feet.

  Adam offered to take her home but she shook her head.

  ‘I don’t want to go home. I want to go and see my mum.’

  ‘Then I’ll take you,’ Adam said.

  27

  Sarah

  Adam dropped me off at my aunt’s house and said he would call me later. When I walked inside, any semblance of control broke down. I cried into my mother’s shoulder until there were no more tears left to shed. My mother cried with me and my father stood to one side as though in a state of shock. They both looked utterly exhausted, and it was clear that they were finding it just as hard to cope as I was.

  There was no way I could have gone back to the flat. The latest instalment from the kidnapper had left me badly shaken. I kept going over in my head what he’d written and the words drilled into my blood.

  Next time I might be tempted to take her virginity.

  How could he even contemplate such a vile act on a fifteen-month-old child? It was sick and loathsome and it terrified me.

  But there were other parts of the text message that also made my flesh crawl.

  There was his reference to Molly as my little darling, followed by, it won’t be long before she forgets you as well!

  At least in the video she wasn’t being smacked. But the clip was shocking just the same. Her beautiful hair, for heaven’s sake. What a horrible mess he had made of it. That in itself was a form of physical abuse. And try as I might I couldn’t imagine Molly just sitting there quietly while he did such a thing to her. She was one of those children who hated her hair being brushed or put into bunches. Sometimes it even led to a full-blown tantrum.

  My parents and aunt insisted on seeing the video of Molly in the bath, but I made a point of not telling them what was in the text message. Their reaction was predictable; relief on seeing that Molly was still alive and seemingly unharmed. But shock and outrage that the bastard had made such a crude attempt to change her appearance.

  Throughout the afternoon I tried not to dwell on what it would be like if I continued to receive photos and video clips showing her growing up without me. How would I feel seeing her laughing, being potty-trained, putting proper sentences together, spending her birthdays in someone else’s house?

  A part of me couldn’t imagine that it would be worth carrying on. But there was also a voice telling me that that would be like abandoning my daughter, because as long as she was alive there would always be hope.

  That very point was touched on in at least one of the many TV reports we watched on the news channels. The reporter rounded off his commentary by saying, ‘For Molly’s mother, viewing these videos and photographs will be sheer torture. But it’s impossible to believe that she won’t feel compelled to endure it no matter how long it goes on.’

  My brain did not allow a moment of respite from the panic and fe
ar that gripped me. But as the evening approached, exhaustion finally overcame me and I wasn’t able to resist it any longer. I fell asleep lying on the sofa, my head resting on my father’s lap.

  28

  Adam

  Sleep eluded Adam. His brain had slowed down and his body felt as though it had been on a long-haul flight. But he couldn’t relax enough to drop off.

  Since leaving Sarah with her parents he had wandered from room to room in his flat, willing the phone to ring and praying it would be DCI Brennan on the other end of the line with some good news about Molly. But as the evening wore on, the more despondent he became. He felt more alone than at any time in his life.

  He spoke briefly to Helen and she told him that she was going to return to the UK at the earliest opportunity. It should have cheered him up, but it didn’t, and to him that was further evidence that their relationship was either moving too fast or going nowhere. In fact, he came close to telling her that he wanted to end it, that he now realised he still had feelings for his ex-wife. After all, it was the truth, and surely it was only fair that Helen was made aware of it. But instead of biting the bullet he told her he had to go but would stay in touch.

  He’d spent the last half an hour scrolling through pictures and video clips of Molly that were stored on his phone. The images of his little girl made him smile through the pain. She was such a funny little thing and how he wished he had spent more time with her. His heart was filled with shame and regret, and a loud, persistent voice in his head kept repeating the words, if only, if only, if only.

  If only he had taken his marriage vows more seriously. If only he had been satisfied with what he’d had instead of looking for something more exciting. If only he hadn’t been drawn into an affair with a younger woman who gave his pathetic ego a boost.

  He had made too many mistakes, and that was partly why it had come to this. If he hadn’t fucked up his marriage it wouldn’t have happened. Sarah wouldn’t have felt the need to work and Molly wouldn’t have had to spend so much time with her grandparents.