The Mother

by Jaime Raven

  The television had been on the whole time and he’d been switching between news channels. Molly’s abduction was the main story on all of them, including CNN and Fox. There was footage of the press conference, interviews with Sarah’s neighbours in Dulwich who said what a delightful child Molly was. One described Sarah as a caring mother who doted on her daughter.

  The BBC was running a new angle about a Find-Molly Facebook page that had been set up and had already attracted 90,000 likes and 8,000 comments. Most of the comments were from people saying they were praying for Molly’s safe return. But some trolls had been critical of Sarah for going to work instead of staying at home to look after her child.

  The anger smouldered in Adam like hot coals. He had avoided drinking because he’d been fearful of getting drunk. But now he realised it might be the only way to get through the night without trashing the TV in a fit of pique.

  He got up and poured himself a large brandy. But just as he put the glass to his lips the Beeb announcer said there had been a development in the Molly Mason abduction story.

  Adam’s heart stopped beating and for a split second he feared the worst.

  But dread turned to anger when the announcer said, ‘The police have just confirmed that one of the men being questioned about the abduction has been released. Victor Rosetti, the Romanian national who was cleared by a jury yesterday of drug offences, had been in custody for almost twenty-four hours.’

  Adam reacted by throwing the glass across the room. It smashed against a wall, splattering brandy everywhere.

  ‘This should not be happening,’ he screamed at the television. ‘The bastard knows something.’

  Adam collapsed back on the sofa as he fought to bring his breathing under control. His thoughts spun in all directions, and after several minutes he decided that if Brennan and his team couldn’t get Rosetti to tell the truth then he would have to do it himself.

  Adam knew that he was taking a huge risk, but he felt he’d been given little choice.

  Word is, you’re in for a nasty surprise.

  Rosetti had said that and now he was denying it, which meant that Brennan’s hands were tied. There was only so far he could take it unless he had evidence linking Rosetti with Molly. Without it they’d have struggled to keep him locked up.

  But Adam wasn’t going to allow himself to be constrained by rules and regulations. He wouldn’t rest until he knew why Rosetti had made the comment. There had to be a reason.

  Rosetti lived alone in a rented three-bed detached house in an affluent part of Fulham. The money used to pay for it was funnelled through two legitimate businesses – a West End nightclub and a minicab firm in South London. Both were fronts for his far more lucrative drug distribution racket.

  Adam had visited the house a few times during the NCA’s ill-fated investigation, so he knew where to go.

  It was just gone 11.30 p.m. when he arrived and parked across the street. There were no lights on in the house and no cars on the short driveway. But it didn’t mean that Rosetti wasn’t at home.

  Adam realised that there was no easy way to go about this. He had no idea what to expect and how Rosetti would react to him suddenly turning up on his doorstep. Or how he himself would react if Rosetti had company. But he wasn’t going to let that deter him from confronting the bastard. There was no time to waste and too much at stake to worry about getting into trouble. Molly was his main concern now, and he was prepared to cross any line in order to get her back.

  So before allowing any doubts to settle in his mind, he got out of the car and walked across the road towards the house.

  There was no gate, and as he stepped onto the driveway, he patted the side pocket of his leather jacket. The bulky hardness of the gun he was carrying sent a bolt of adrenaline tearing through his body.

  As Adam approached Rosetti’s front door, a sensor light came on, catching him by surprise. He snapped his head round but saw no one watching him.

  High hedges either side blocked the view of the neighbouring properties, but he did spot a security camera above one of the ground-floor windows. There was no light showing so he couldn’t be sure if it was switched on.

  His pulse accelerated as he rang the doorbell and he kept telling himself that he had to do whatever it took to find out what Rosetti knew.

  Blood hummed in his ears as he waited for the door to open. He could only hope that Rosetti wouldn’t see him through a window and be panicked into calling the three nines. If so, then it would only be a matter of minutes before a patrol car turned up and he was escorted from the premises, or cautioned even.

  Undeterred by that possibility, Adam rang the bell again. When there was no response, he felt sure that the house must be empty. He briefly toyed with the idea of trying to break in, but decided against it because the last thing he wanted to do was set off a burglar alarm.

  He checked his watch. It was fifteen minutes to midnight. So he decided to wait in the car in the hope that Rosetti would arrive home soon and wasn’t spending the night elsewhere following his release from custody.

  He repositioned the Audi so that the moon’s glow did not hit the windscreen and make him more visible. Then he settled back in the driver’s seat and prepared himself for a long wait.

  But he got lucky. After only thirty-five minutes a pair of headlights approached along the quiet road, prompting him to duck down out of sight until the car passed by.

  He then watched in the rear-view mirror as it stopped in front of Rosetti’s driveway.

  The car was a black Mercedes, and Adam would have put money on it being the same one that had picked Rosetti up from outside the Old Bailey.

  A rear door was opened and a man stepped out onto the pavement. The door was then slammed shut, and as the car drove off, the man turned to walk up the driveway.

  That was when Adam saw that it was Victor Rosetti. There was just enough light to make out the short, stumpy frame and shaved head. He was wearing a white open-neck shirt and jeans.

  This is it, Adam told himself. Just hold your nerve and do it for Molly.

  He exited the car as quietly as possible and eased the door shut behind him. A quick look to make sure that nobody else was around, then he moved swiftly across the road to the driveway, arriving just as Rosetti was inserting a key into his front door.

  Adam broke into a run and managed to cover the distance between them before Rosetti heard him and turned round, whiplash fast.

  Rosetti had no time to react before Adam rammed into him with all the force of an express train.

  They both went crashing through the open front door into the house.

  Rosetti stumbled backwards and lost his balance, falling to the floor just inside the hall.

  But Adam managed to stay on his feet and immediately unleashed a power kick that connected with the back of Rosetti’s head. The Romanian cried out and rolled up against the wall. It gave Adam the precious seconds he needed to get his bearings in the gloom, switch on the hall light, and close the front door behind him. He then whipped the revolver from his pocket before Rosetti even realised what was happening.

  When Rosetti saw the gun being pointed at him, his eyes widened alarmingly and a muscle tightened in his jaw.

  ‘Are you fucking crazy?’ he screamed.

  A tight smile twisted on Adam’s lips. ‘Absolutely. Which is why I’ve come here to kill you.’

  Rosetti struggled to a sitting position, his back against the wall, his breath coming hard and fast.

  ‘Th-this is a joke, right?’ he managed. ‘You’re a copper, for Christ’s sake.’

  Adam aimed the gun at Rosetti’s chest, a look of feral rage on his face. ‘I’m also the father of the child you’ve abducted,’ he said. ‘And since you won’t say what you’ve done with her I’m not prepared to let you live.’

  Rosetti started shaking his head. ‘But I’ve got nothing to do with what has happened to your kid. I’ve told your lot already. They know I’m telling the truth whic
h is why they let me go.’

  ‘But you lied to them. You claimed that you didn’t tell me I was in for a nasty surprise.’

  Rosetti stared at the gun, his mind ticking over, and Adam felt a wave of fury rattle through him.

  ‘The only way to save yourself is to cough up,’ he said. ‘If you didn’t do it but you know who did then you should tell me to save yourself.’

  Rosetti swallowed hard. ‘But you wouldn’t dare. You’d be done for, finished.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve got a friend outside in the car waiting to drive me away from here and he’s also ready to give me an alibi for tonight. You’ve got lots of enemies, so there’s no way that I’ll be among the suspects.’

  ‘But this is fucking crazy. You need to calm down. Please. I’m not your man. I really don’t know anything.’

  ‘Then why did you say that outside the court?’

  ‘I was winding you up. That was all there was to it. Honest to God. And I’m not just saying that because you’ve got a pistol pointed at me.’

  Adam narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t believe you. It was too much of a coincidence that my daughter was kidnapped that very morning.’

  ‘But that’s all it was. A coincidence.’

  Adam bent over and pressed the muzzle of the revolver into the flesh beneath Rosetti’s chin. ‘I’m going to count to ten. If you don’t come clean, I’ll blow your fucking head off.’

  In desperation, Rosetti made a grab for the gun and Adam was too slow to react. He lost his grip and the gun fell into Rosetti’s lap.

  A violent struggle ensued as both men rolled around the narrow hallway, punching, kicking and scrambling for the weapon.

  Rosetti was clearly the stronger of the two, but Adam’s strength came from a fierce rage that had spiralled out of control. He was like a man possessed, and it made him oblivious to the blows that struck his head, stomach and chest.

  But Rosetti made the first serious mistake by dropping his guard in order to reach for the gun after it slipped onto the floor.

  Adam seized the opportunity by cracking his fist into Rosetti’s temple, causing his head to slam against the wall with a heavy thud. He followed through with a savage punch to the Romanian’s throat that snatched his breath away and made his body go limp.

  Adam quickly retrieved the gun and hauled himself to his feet, while Rosetti was too dazed to stop him.

  Adam then stepped back and bared his teeth.

  ‘You’re a no-good scumbag,’ he yelled. ‘And you deserve everything that’s about to happen to you.’

  Rosetti’s eyes were still trying to focus as Adam aimed a brutal kick at his face. The heel of his shoe struck Rosetti on the mouth, pushing a couple of teeth through his bottom lip. Blood sprayed the front of his shirt.

  Instinct screamed for Adam to carry on beating the man until he opened up about Molly. He was in such a demonic rage by now that he didn’t give a shit about the consequences. Later he would reflect that Rosetti must have seen the madness in his eyes, which was why he elected to save himself before it was too late.

  ‘OK, OK, enough!’ the Romanian yelped, raising his arms defensively. ‘Don’t hit me again. Please. I’ll tell you what you want to know.’

  Adam froze and stared down at him, his heart pounding, legs shaking.

  ‘Does that mean you did abduct my daughter, you evil shit?’

  Rosetti swallowed as he wiped his bloody mouth with the back of his hand.

  Then he took a long, slow breath and said, ‘No it doesn’t. I swear I didn’t take her. But I think I know who did.’

  29

  Sarah

  It was approaching midnight when I arrived back at my flat. My parents had tried to persuade me to stay at my aunt’s, but I’d felt compelled to return home after sleeping for a couple of hours.

  As the taxi dropped me off, a uniformed police officer appeared as if by magic. It didn’t surprise me that he was still here because so was the media. Two photographers and a reporter rushed over as soon as they spotted me.

  The officer put himself between me and them and said, ‘We weren’t sure if you’d be back tonight, ma’am. Would you like me to get the family liaison officer to come over?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘But thank you.’

  ‘Well I have instructions to alert Sergeant Palmer if you turn up.’

  ‘Then tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.’

  ‘Will do, ma’am. And rest assured I won’t be letting those hacks bother you.’

  As if to prove his point, he turned, held up his hands and told them to leave me alone. But that didn’t stop the reporter from asking me where I’d been or the photographers from taking a bunch of pictures as I entered the building.

  I wondered how long it would take for the story to burn itself out and their interest to wane. Would they be hassling me in six months if the situation hadn’t changed?

  This thought stayed with me as I closed the front door to my flat and turned on the lights. And it pulled me down even further into the depths of despair.

  Could this nightmare really go on for that long, or perhaps even longer?

  The only person who knew the answer was the man in the balaclava. The kidnapper. The psycho whose stated aim was to punish me.

  I’d been intending to make myself a coffee, but I suddenly felt the need for something stronger to help numb the pain. So I went straight to the fridge, grabbed the half-full bottle of Chardonnay and poured myself a large glass.

  I started drinking it while standing with my back against the sink. My thoughts returned to the man who had stolen my child, not because he wanted to love and nurture her, but because he wanted to use her as a weapon against me. I knew that in that scenario it was hardly likely he would treat her well. He’d be impatient with her and short-tempered. He’d neglect and abuse her until he finally got fed up with her or decided that he had punished me enough.

  And what then? Would he let me have her back or would he …?

  I didn’t want to contemplate the awful possibilities, but that was going to be difficult, because as long as Molly was at his mercy I’d be cursed by the cruelty of my own imagination.

  A shuddering sob erupted from me and with it came a sudden urge to be sick again. I put the glass down on the worktop and rushed into the downstairs toilet.

  I retched into the basin a few times but all that came up was acid and wine. I wiped my lips on toilet paper and rinsed my mouth with water before looking in the mirror.

  My face was as pale as skimmed milk and the whites of my eyes were tinged red. I looked like a zombie from The Walking Dead.

  I retrieved my wine from the kitchen and went and sat on the sofa in the living room.

  The silence pressed heavily against me, while exhaustion gnawed at my bones.

  I sat there for a while, deep in melancholy thought, my mind rolling back to the day before yesterday. I wanted to rewind time to the moment I walked into Molly’s room to wake her up. If only I had decided to let her sleep on and to take the day off work. Then she wouldn’t have been with my mother and the man wouldn’t have been able to take her. But it was clear from his messages that he would have struck at another time anyway. After all, he had probably been watching and stalking for days or weeks so that he could acquaint himself with my routine.

  I started to ransack my shaken memory, trying to remember if there was anything unusual that I should have picked up on, something that ought to have alerted me to the danger ahead.

  But it was hopeless. Events before that fateful morning were too vague to make any sense of.

  I downed some more wine and then stared across the room as I rolled the stem of the glass between my fingers.

  My precious little girl stared back at me from a wall-mounted frame. It was a blown-up picture taken on her first birthday. She was pointing at the camera with one hand while holding Peppa Pig by the ear in the other.

  My eyes filled with fresh tears and my
insides balled into a tight knot. It seemed cruelly ironic suddenly that Adam and I were both police officers and yet we hadn’t been able to protect our daughter.

  But that didn’t mean we couldn’t use our experience and expertise to help find her. We just needed to work out the best way to go about it.

  30

  Adam

  ‘So come on,’ Adam urged. ‘Who do you think has taken my daughter?’

  Victor Rosetti tried to stand up but Adam shook his head.

  ‘Stay where you are and start talking or so help me …’

  Rosetti sat back down and his lips curled as though he’d tasted something sour.

  ‘What I’m going to tell you is the frigging truth,’ he said, his voice a hard-edged whisper. ‘So for Christ’s sake give me your word that you won’t kill me.’

  Adam nodded. ‘You’ll live, but only if I believe you. So you’ll need to convince me that you’re not feeding me a load of bullshit just to save your sorry arse.’

  Rosetti lapsed into a nervous silence for a few moments, his jaw agape, a mist of sweat on his forehead.

  Adam’s breath thundered in his ears as he waited, his mouth full of saliva that he couldn’t swallow.

  Eventually Rosetti began.

  ‘A few months ago I met a guy in prison. I was on remand and he was only weeks away from being released. We got talking about how we had both wound up inside, and it turned out we had something in common. And that something, or rather someone, was you, Detective.’

  Adam felt his eyebrows knit together, and his head started reeling with questions. But he said nothing. Just waited for the Romanian to explain himself.

  Rosetti wiped a dribble of blood from his chin before continuing.

  ‘You were one of the arresting officers in both our cases, so we spent a lot of time slagging you off. But this guy was even more pissed off than me because he claimed he was fitted up and evidence was planted against him.

  ‘He’d served four years of an eight-year stretch and they were letting him out. But he wasn’t just blaming you. He reckoned you had a partner in crime. A fellow officer who was the one who charged him and then went on to lie in court about what he’d done. He said he’d been trying to think of ways he could punish her when he got out.’