The Mother

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by Jaime Raven


  It was like a red rag to a bull. She leapt up out of the chair and thrust her face towards him, her eyes wild.

  ‘I mean every fucking word of it, you stupid twat. That tart destroyed my family and my life. I pray that she never has a day’s peace for as long as she lives.’

  She then turned to Brennan and pointed towards the door.

  ‘Now I want you to go,’ she said. ‘And don’t be in a hurry to come back. I’m sick of you lot. All you ever do is bring me bad news.’

  Brennan had intended to hang around, at least until her youngest son arrived, but her reaction made him change his mind.

  He got up, said again how sorry he was, and headed for the door.

  Back in the car the officer whose head she’d bitten off, said, ‘I’m sorry I piped up in there, guv. I didn’t think.’

  ‘Not your fault, lad. That’s one fucked-up woman if you ask me.’

  Brennan told the driver to take him to Wandsworth and the incident room. But just as they started out his phone went. It was DI Driscoll.

  ‘I thought you should know that we’re having problems finding Tony Kemp, guv,’ he said.

  ‘Have you been to his flat?’

  ‘We have. His daughter was there, but he wasn’t. She let us look around. And she said she has no idea where he is.’

  ‘Do you believe her?’

  ‘Well she sounded genuine and a bit concerned actually.’

  ‘Did you tell her why we want to speak to her father?’

  ‘I thought it best to since she’ll be hearing about it soon enough.’

  ‘What about his phone?’

  ‘It’s switched off. Both his daughter and his wife reckon that’s pretty unusual. We’re now in the process of checking out his haunts and employees.’

  ‘This is something I didn’t expect,’ Brennan said.

  ‘Me neither. Maybe the guy got wind of what we’ve been up to in the wood and decided to make himself scarce.’

  It seemed unlikely to Brennan, but the possibility dominated his thoughts on the drive to Wandsworth.

  It was another unwelcome turn of events. And exactly what he didn’t need at this time.

  58

  Sarah

  The satnav guided me south out of Hayes town centre. It was more rural than residential, and much of the area was heath and woodland.

  As I drove, my breathing became heavier and I trembled with anticipation. In my head a voice was warning me not to build up my hopes.

  You’re jumping to conclusions, Sarah. The man who bought the cot and slide and other stuff from Kiddies Corner might not be the same man who has Molly.

  But I refused to listen. Instinct told me I wasn’t wrong, that I had stumbled on a lead that was both strong and credible.

  Each time the satnav spoke to me, my stomach jumped. I was getting closer. One mile away. Half a mile. Turn left three hundred yards ahead.

  I followed the directions into a narrow country lane. On both sides were smart detached houses on spacious plots of land. Then came some fields. A bit of dense woodland. Another lane off to the right.

  Finally the satnav told me I’d reached my destination: the address to which Kiddies Corner had delivered £400 worth of baby things.

  The house was set back from the road. It was a two-storey, red-brick property surrounded by high hedges. There was a short driveway and an integral garage, but I couldn’t see any vehicles.

  I parked up on the grass verge and got out, leaving my shoulder bag inside the car.

  All my police training told me that to go in without back-up would be an extreme act of recklessness. But I wasn’t thinking like a police officer. I was thinking like a mother and nothing short of an earthquake was going to stop me finding out if my daughter was in this house.

  I had no plan as such, and it was too late to do anything other than walk up to the front door and ring the bell. What I’d do after that would depend on whether someone answered.

  Clouds had moved in overhead and the sun had all but disappeared. But it was still bright and warm and birdsong filled the air.

  I walked slowly up the gravel driveway, my heart thrashing against my chest.

  The house was pretty secluded. There were properties either side but with patches of woodland in between.

  I paused about ten yards from the front door. Took a moment to look around and listen. There was no sign of life, and the only sound came from the birds in the trees.

  The house was older than it had appeared to be from a distance, and the brickwork had been discoloured by age. If it did belong to a villain who had fled the country then my guess was he’d bought it as an investment or to launder money. He probably hadn’t actually lived here.

  There were four large windows facing the front, two up and two down. Curtains were pulled across them.

  I stepped up to the door, which was green and made of wood. I rang the bell. Waited. There was no response so I rang it again and this time left my finger on the button for thirty seconds. I could hear it ringing inside but no one answered.

  I wasn’t about to let that put me off, though. I banged my fist against the door a couple of times, then stood back and shouted: ‘Is someone at home? I’m a police officer. Open up.’

  There was a side gate on the right of the building, which presumably led to a back garden. I crossed over to it, thinking I might have to contend with a padlock. But the gate opened when I pushed my thumb down on the latch.

  A path led around the side of the house, between the wall and the hedge. There was a door with a frosted glass panel and a window to the left of it. The venetian blinds were in the open position so I stood on tiptoe and peered into a kitchen with wooden units and grey walls. The room was empty and when I tried to open the door I found it was locked.

  I then carried on to the end of the path, which brought me to a paved patio, and beyond it a garden that was in need of some TLC. The flower beds had been colonised by weeds and a section of the rear fence was missing. But what really drew my attention were the two objects in the middle of the lawn – a yellow slide and a big red ball.

  The last time I’d seen them had been in the photograph that was sent to my phone last night. Of that I had no doubt.

  Hope swelled inside me at the thought that a short time ago Molly had been sitting in this very garden.

  The blood started roaring in my ears as I turned my attention to the back of the house. There were four windows and a set of patio doors, which did not have curtains or blinds on the inside.

  When I stepped up to the glass I could see into the large room.

  And that was when I got another shock.

  In the middle of the room was a white leather sofa which I knew must be the one that Molly had been sitting on in that first photograph from the kidnapper.

  As I strained my eyes to look at the wall behind it I saw a framed print of a sailboat on water. The same one that appeared in the photo.

  My legs almost gave way at that moment, and the panic rose in my throat.

  This is definitely the place. This is where that bastard has been holding Molly.

  There were no outside handles on the patio doors, and a quick check confirmed that all the windows were shut and locked. But I had to find a way in. There was every chance that my baby was inside, all alone and waiting for me to come and get her.

  I walked back round to the front of the house, looking for a means of access. It was suddenly obvious what I had to do and that was to smash my way in through a window.

  It didn’t take me long to find a stone half the size of a brick in the garden. I reckoned it was big enough and heavy enough to do the trick.

  I opted to go in through the patio doors, so I stood about five yards back and hurled the stone with as much force as I could muster.

  It bounced off the first time, but left a jagged network of cracks across one of the doors.

  The second time the glass shattered with an almighty crash and left an opening plenty big
enough for me to step through.

  The living room was spartan and stretched through to the front of the house. The only furniture was the sofa, a mismatched armchair, a small cabinet and a television in one corner on a stand.

  I stood still for a few moments, half expecting an alarm to go off or the man in the balaclava to appear. But nothing happened and I realised then that he wasn’t here.

  Suddenly I feared that maybe he had done a runner and taken Molly with him.

  Oh please God, no.

  I stalked across the living room and into a wide hallway with a staircase. The front door was to my left, the kitchen to my right. So I checked that first. There was a part of it that I hadn’t been able to see when I’d peered through the window. It contained a breakfast bar and a high chair. A dirty bib was resting on the tray and in the sink was a child’s plastic food plate. The scene sucked the breath out of my lungs and my heart started to race. It was hard for me to imagine that these were items that Molly had been using, probably just a few hours ago.

  There was another room on the ground floor but it was unfurnished.

  So I moved slowly up the stairs, ready to defend myself if somebody leapt out at me.

  On the upstairs landing there were four doors and they were all closed. I checked them all. The first two were bedrooms with double beds and wardrobes. Only one of the beds was made up with pillows and a duvet. The other contained a bare mattress. The third door led to a bathroom with a fitted shower. But as I pushed open the fourth door my chest exploded with a spasm of joyful relief.

  There was a cot up against the far wall and I could see a child lying in it.

  I rushed across the room on legs that suddenly felt too weak to support me. I grabbed the edge of the cot and leaned over it. And there, tucked beneath a blanket, was my baby.

  She was lying on her side, her eyes closed, a thumb in her mouth. She looked different with short, dark hair. But she was still my beautiful little girl.

  I was so relieved that I screamed out loud and tears welled in my eyes. But the scream didn’t wake her so I lowered the side of the cot and started telling her that she was safe and Mummy was here.

  She was wearing a two-piece pyjama set, and I could see a stain where her nappy had leaked while she slept.

  ‘Wake up, sweetheart,’ I said, stumbling over my words. ‘I’ve come to take you home.’

  But she didn’t stir, not even when I lifted her out of the cot and pulled her tightly against me. The sweet smell of her body brought a huge lump to my throat and I could barely breathe.

  ‘It’s me, Molly. Mummy. Wake up, darling. I’m here now. We can go home.’

  I held her away from me, shook her gently, willed her to open her eyes and smile at me.

  And that was when I realised that something was wrong. My daughter was limp and unresponsive in my arms. And try as I might I just couldn’t get her to wake up.

  59

  Adam

  The long wait ended for Adam when DI Hughes came to tell him that Eddie Lomax – alias The Keyholder – was awake at last.

  ‘He’s still drowsy but he is able to speak,’ Hughes said. ‘I told him another officer wants to ask him some questions about an unrelated matter, but I didn’t give him any details.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Adam said. ‘I’ll go and see him now if that’s OK.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to in view of what’s happened.’

  Adam had shared with Hughes the news that Knight’s body had been found.

  ‘However the evidence suggests that he was involved at the outset and must have had at least one accomplice who abducted Molly after he died,’ Adam said. ‘So if Lomax did rent out a property to him, then the other guy could still be there with Molly.’

  ‘Good point. But a word of warning. The guy’s pretty shrewd and tight-lipped. It’s how he’s managed to stay under the radar for this long. So don’t be surprised if you don’t get much out of him.’

  Lomax was sitting up against the pillows when Adam stepped into the cubicle, his face deathly pale. He was still attached to the monitor and his chest was bandaged, but the drip had been removed.

  ‘I’m Detective Inspector Boyd,’ Adam said. ‘I’m the one who chased the guy who tried to kill you.’

  Lomax ran his tongue over dry, cracked lips and said, ‘The other detective told me that Buzek stabbed you as well.’

  ‘That’s right. But he didn’t do as good a job on me as he did on you, Eddie. Or would you rather I address you as Mr Keyholder?’

  Lomax’s face darkened. ‘What is this? I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about.’

  Adam moved closer to the bed and stood over him.

  ‘I haven’t got time for lies, Eddie. My fifteen-month-old daughter has been abducted and I want your help.’

  Confusion twisted Lomax’s features.

  ‘What’s it got to do with me?’

  ‘Well I’m hoping you’re going to tell me where she is.’

  ‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’

  ‘I wish it was,’ Adam said. ‘But I’m deadly serious.’

  Lomax shook his head. ‘I don’t know what you’re trying to pin on me but I’m not prepared to listen to whatever it is.’

  Adam rested his hands on the edge of the bed and leaned over, invading Lomax’s space. Then he delivered his words in an angry whisper.

  ‘You haven’t got a fucking choice, mate. And if you dick me around, your life won’t be worth living when you finally get out of here.’

  Lomax pushed himself back against the pillows and he grimaced as it caused him some pain.

  ‘So don’t try lying to me or denying that they call you The Keyholder,’ Adam continued. ‘I know all about the services you provide to villains with assets.’

  Lomax started to speak, but then stopped himself and began panting heavily instead.

  ‘One of the villains who came to you recently was Bobby Knight. I gather he wanted you to fix him up with a property somewhere. A safe house in other words.’

  ‘I don’t know anyone—’

  Adam grabbed his arm and squeezed it. ‘I warned you not to lie, Eddie, and now I don’t want you to say anything until you know the story in full. A lot’s been happening while you’ve been struggling to survive in here, including the demise of dear old Bobby. So just relax and let me put you in the picture. Afterwards I’m hoping that for your own sake you’ll tell me what I want to know.’

  60

  Sarah

  It was some moments before I realised that Molly was breathing. In the panic that had engulfed me I’d failed to notice that her chest was moving up and down.

  Thank God, thank God, thank God.

  I checked her quickly to see if she had any serious injuries. But there weren’t any visible cuts or bruises, although she did stink of urine.

  So what was wrong with her? Why wouldn’t she wake up?

  ‘Molly, sweetheart,’ I said, tapping my fingers against her cheek. ‘Please open your eyes for me. It’s Mummy. I’m here.’

  But she didn’t respond, didn’t move.

  Had she suffered some kind of head injury? Or had the bastard pumped her full of drugs?

  I needed to call an ambulance. Or failing that get her to a hospital as quickly as possible.

  A phone. I needed a phone and it suddenly struck me that there might be a landline downstairs.

  I wrapped the blanket around Molly and lifted her up again. My heart was beating so fiercely that I thought it might tear my body apart.

  I clung to my baby as I rushed out of the room, blubbering and crying as I did so. I had never seen Molly like this before and I was scared witless. She felt lighter than usual in my arms and I wondered if she had lost weight. There were so many more questions swirling around inside my head. Where was the kidnapper? Had he left Molly here to starve? What would have happened if I hadn’t found the house?

  I carried her down the stairs and straight towards the living room, i
ntending to go out the way I’d come in. Then I would rush to one of the neighbouring properties in the hope that someone was at home. I needed to phone for an ambulance or get directions to the nearest hospital. But as I entered the living room my eyes were drawn to the front window – what I saw came as a gut-wrenching shock.

  The window afforded a view of the driveway and there was a car parked on it. It was a red Ford Fiesta and it must have arrived while I was upstairs and I’d been in too much of a state to hear it. But I did hear the creak of the floorboards behind me while I was staring through the window.

  I spun round and came face to face with a man I had never met but who I vaguely recognised from the TV news. He was standing barely five feet from me.

  ‘How the hell did you find this place?’ he bellowed.

  I was so stunned I couldn’t speak. And he didn’t wait for me to recover before he lunged forward. He grabbed Molly’s arm with one hand and yanked her from me with brute force. Then he used his other hand to throw a fist at my face. The punch struck me on the left cheekbone and sent my head into a buzzing frenzy. The blow was so hard I fell to the floor, as if every muscle in my body had stopped working.

  61

  Adam

  It didn’t take Adam long to tell Eddie Lomax what he’d missed while he’d been unconscious in hospital. He started with Molly’s abduction and described how the kidnapper had been sending her mother photographs and videos to punish her for a perceived wrongdoing.

  ‘We think that Bobby Knight had planned it while in prison,’ Adam said. ‘He accused my wife of planting the evidence that got him convicted, but of course that was total rubbish.’

  Adam then explained that Knight needed a place to hold Molly and it was believed he had moved to a property in Hayes because he’d been spotted there several times.

  ‘But you just told me he was killed two weeks ago,’ Lomax said. ‘If that’s so, then how can he be holding your daughter?’

  ‘We’re assuming there was an accomplice who put the plan into action after Knight disappeared.’

 

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