The Mother: A shocking thriller about every mother’s worst fear…

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.

Adam was suddenly at my side, holding my hand and turning the phone towards him so that he too could read the text.

‘Check the photo first,’ he said.

I opened it up and stared with a heavy heart at my baby lying fast asleep in a cot. She was on her back and wearing plain pink pyjamas that I hadn’t seen before. Her eyes were closed and she was sucking on her thumb, just as she always did in her sleep.

I felt a wash of cold sweat and a sharp pain speared through my chest.

‘At least she looks OK,’ Adam said over my shoulder. ‘She hasn’t been harmed.’

That wasn’t the point. She still wasn’t safe. She was with a stranger and we had no idea what he planned to do with her. She would certainly be scared, and maybe he’d already hurt her in some way since the photo was taken.

‘Check the document,’ Adam said. ‘Let’s see what it says.’

But by now my hands were shaking so much I couldn’t operate the phone, so Adam took it from me and opened up the document.

‘Read it out,’ Palmer told him. ‘I need to hear this too.’

But Adam ignored her and read it to himself, and from the look on his face I knew it was bad.

I wasn’t sure how long it took him to get through the message, or if he read it twice, but it felt like a lifetime. When he’d finished, the blood had retreated from his face and there was a look of feral rage in his eyes.

‘What is it?’ I said. ‘What does it say?’

But he couldn’t speak. He was shell-shocked. I went to grab the phone from him but Palmer beat me to it.

‘Give it to me,’ I demanded, my voice shrill, high-pitched. ‘I want to see it.’

I moved towards her but Adam got between us.

‘You need to prepare yourself, Sarah,’ he said, holding my arms. ‘This isn’t good.’

I froze and felt a cold panic tighten in my chest.

We stared at each other and the haunted expression on his face was truly terrifying.

‘However bad it is, I need to see it,’ I said.

A moment later Palmer handed me the phone, and her face was stiff with shock. As soon as I started to read what the kidnapper had written I felt the darkness rise up inside me.

Sarah Mason … FYI I’ve taken your daughter as punishment for what you did to me. You’ll never touch or speak to her again. But you will see her grow up. That will be my way of making sure that your suffering does not diminish over time. I’ll send you photos and video clips on a regular basis. If I find out at any point that you’ve stopped looking at them, I’ll take it out on Molly. She will also suffer if you or the police make any of the images public through newspapers or on the television. Remember – I don’t love your child and I won’t hesitate to hurt her – or even kill her – if you give me cause.

Yours … Molly’s adoptive parent.

7

DCI Brennan

Detective Brennan arrived at Sarah’s flat thirty minutes after she received the second text from the kidnapper. The message with the attached document was forwarded to him by her ex-husband, and having read it through twice he’d concluded that it was one of the most disturbing things he’d seen during three decades on the force, and that was going some.

Whoever was behind it had to be some kind of monster; a monster with a serious grudge against Sarah Mason.

Brennan wondered what she could possibly have done to make the perp want to inflict such a painful and bizarre form of ‘punishment’. Did the perceived wrongdoing relate to an issue in her private life, or did it have something to do with her work as a police officer?

These were questions that would be central to the investigation, and it was crucial that they be answered quickly, so as not to waste time storming off in the wrong direction.

The life of an innocent child was at stake, and so too was the sanity of the child’s mother.

As soon as Brennan saw Sarah sitting on her sofa he realised that the shock had numbed her senses. She was staring at the wall opposite, her eyes wide and unblinking, her body rigid as a fence post. Her cheeks were streaked with mascara and her hands were clasped together in an anxious knot in her lap. She didn’t even turn towards him as he entered the living room, and he didn’t want to imagine what terrible thoughts were rushing through her mind.

His heart went out to her, and for a few moments he was lost for words. Sarah Mason wasn’t just another victim of crime. She was a valued member of his close-knit team and as such he felt protective towards her.

She was one of his brightest detectives, and she had never let him down, not even during those dark days after she split from her husband and discovered she was pregnant. She’d coped then with a quiet dignity, revealing an inner strength that had so impressed him he’d decided to promote her to detective inspector.

But getting divorced and giving birth were nothing compared with the terrifying ordeal that now confronted her.

Brennan had a flashback to the first time he saw her with Molly. She’d brought her into the office two months after she was born. Sarah had been so happy and proud and had clearly been ecstatic about being a mother.

The last time he saw Molly was at the staff children’s party at Christmas. He’d gone along with his own grandson who was just a few months older than Molly. Seeing the children now in his mind’s eye gave rise to a deep sense of foreboding that he tried desperately to keep out of his voice when he finally spoke.

‘I want you to know that the whole of the Met is on high alert, Sarah,’ he said. ‘I spoke to the Commissioner himself on the way here. He wants us to throw everything we’ve got into finding your daughter.’

She turned her head then and looked up at him. Her face was drawn and pallid and her eyes brimmed with bright, shiny tears. The fear and despair was coming off her in waves.

Brennan was about to reach forward and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but her ex-husband beat him to it. Adam Boyd moved swiftly from where he’d been perched on the arm of the sofa and sat beside her. He put an arm around her and pulled her close to him.

Brennan knew from what Sarah had told him that Adam was close to his daughter and saw her regularly. So he’d be in just as much pain as she was, even though he was doing a better job of not showing it. He’d met his fellow police officer a couple of times and he seemed nice enough, but his concern right now was for Sarah.

‘We’re working closely with the phone company,’ Brennan said. ‘With any luck we’ll soon have a fix on who’s behind this.’

But even as he said it he knew it was wishful thinking. The person who had taken Molly would make sure to cover his tracks. He’d know how to send a text message and an email that couldn’t be traced. It wasn’t rocket science, after all. The information on how to do it was freely available on the internet.

‘Is my mum OK?’ Sarah asked.

Brennan lowered himself onto the chair opposite her and nodded.

‘Your father’s with her at the hospital,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing physically wrong with her but she’s understandably shaken up and feeling guilty. She’ll soon be discharged. I gather her sister lives in Balham and that’s apparently where they’ll be spending the night because their house is now an active crime scene.’

‘Does she know about this latest message?’

‘Not yet.’

Sarah closed her eyes and pulled a face as though reacting to a sharp pain. Then she started rocking herself back and forth, her breathing hard and rapid.

At this point the family liaison officer, Sergeant Rachel Palmer, explained to Brennan that she had spoken to a police doctor who had agreed to come to the flat and prescribe medication for Sarah.

‘No one is putting me to sleep,’ Sarah snapped. ‘I have to stay awake in case there’s another message or even a phone call.’

‘But you need something to help with the shock,’ Adam said. ‘And it doesn’t mean you can’t stay awake.’

Brennan watched Adam rub his fingers across his scalp. The man’s lean, sharp-edged features were tight with tension, the cheeks marked with a hint of stubble.

Brennan had already spoken to Adam’s boss at the National Crime Agency to apprise him of the situation. DCI Mike Dunlop had described him as a solid detective and had offered to help with the investigation. Brennan was hoping he wouldn’t have to take him up on the offer, but if the last message was anything to go by they might need all the help they could get.

‘Sounds to me like their poor little mite has been snatched by some sick, twisted perv,’ Dunlop had said. ‘The fact that she’s the daughter of two coppers will make it big bloody news.’

Brennan knew that only too well. A media firestorm was brewing for sure. And dealing with it was going to be far from straightforward, given what the kidnapper had threatened.

She will also suffer if you or the police make any of the images public through newspapers or on the television.

That was going to complicate matters no end. But from the kidnapper’s standpoint it was a clever move as it would limit the impact of any public appeal.

‘The note makes it clear that we can’t air those photographs of Molly that he’s sent you,’ Brennan said now. ‘You’ll therefore need to provide me with a couple of recent pictures of her that we can give to the media.’

‘But how do we know he won’t mind those being aired?’ Sarah asked.

‘Because I’m certain he would have told us if he did. He knows we’ll have to put out pictures of Molly, but if we air the ones he’s taken himself then there’s a risk that something in them will be recognised – such as the room she’s in or the sofa she’s on. He’s being cautious.’

‘It makes sense, I suppose,’ Adam said. ‘Well I’ve got plenty of pictures on my phone.’

Brennan pulled at the knot of his tie and swallowed the saliva that had gathered in his throat. Then he said, ‘Have you given any thought to who could be responsible for this?’

The question was directed at Adam, but it was Sarah who answered it.

‘To do that I’d have to think beyond what’s happened,’ she said. ‘And right now, I can’t. All I can think about is Molly and what might be happening to her.’

‘I appreciate that,’ Brennan said. ‘I really do. But you’ve got to try to focus, Sarah. Can you think of anyone who has a grudge against you? Anyone who believes you should be punished?’

She passed a hand over her face and shook her head.

‘I really c-can’t,’ she sobbed. ‘I wish I could.’

‘So you haven’t fallen out with anyone recently?’

‘No I haven’t.’

‘Then that leads me to believe that this is to do with the job. Perhaps someone you put away is out to get revenge.’

Sarah grimaced. ‘But it means there’ll be scores of suspects going back years.’

Brennan nodded. ‘We’re going to have to trawl through all the cases you’ve been involved with.’

‘Jesus, guv. That’ll take forever and most of those guys are probably still banged up.’

‘Well we shouldn’t assume that the kidnapper is working alone,’ Brennan said. ‘He could have an accomplice.’

Adam leant forward, a frown cutting into his forehead. ‘I just can’t believe that this is the work of a pissed-off perp,’ he said. ‘You know yourself that it’s very rare for the people who are put away to seek to get their own back against an arresting officer. They know they’ll be a prime suspect if they do. And what this bastard is threatening to do with Molly is off the chart when it comes to risk. The longer he drags it out, the more chance of getting caught.’

It had already occurred to Brennan that the kidnapper might be bluffing about holding Molly in order to torment Sarah and prolong her agony. More likely he was planning to let her go or, God forbid, kill her after a few days. But Brennan was reluctant to explore this theory with Sarah and Adam because he didn’t want to give oxygen to the thought that they would never see their daughter again.

At least if they believed that Molly’s abductor was going to keep her alive they could cling to the hope that one day she’d be returned to them.

Brennan persevered with the questions for almost an hour, delicately probing Sarah in the hope of extracting some useful information from her. But she was too distressed to concentrate and broke down twice in a paroxysm of tears.

She struggled to hold her thoughts together and found it harder still to summon up names and faces from the past.

‘There are so many,’ she kept saying. ‘For Christ’s sake, I’ve been a copper for over ten years, so I’m bound to have lots of enemies, including all those buggers who claimed they were innocent. Maybe one of their friends or relatives is convinced they were and has decided to get back at me for it.’

‘What about the perps?’ Brennan asked, as he stood up and rolled his shoulders to take out some of the stiffness. ‘Do you recall the names of any that threatened actual retribution against you?’

After thinking about it for a minute or so she remembered two offenders who had threatened her. One she collared seven years ago for smuggling hard drugs into the country from Turkey. His name was Frank Neilson, and after he was charged he told her that he would make her pay if he was eventually convicted. He was, and as far as Sarah knew he was still locked up in Belmarsh Prison.

The second man was a rapist named Edwin Sharp who attacked her with a hammer when she went to his home in Lewisham to arrest him. He said he would ‘see to her’ after he had served his sentence. That was five years ago and she had no idea if he’d been released.

‘This is a good start,’ Brennan said. ‘I’m sure that other names will come to you and we can throw them into the mix as well.’

She was a strong woman, Brennan told himself. He just hoped she’d be able to get over the initial shock quickly. He needed her to focus her mind and help them identify the kidnapper.

The words of the kidnapper convinced Brennan that Sarah probably knew who the man was and that his name was buried deep in her subconscious. If so, then surely it was only a matter of time before she managed to dredge it up.

Brennan decided to leave just as the police doctor arrived at the flat. He got to his feet and told Sarah and Adam that he wouldn’t rest until Molly had been found.

‘I know it won’t be easy, but you both need to stay strong,’ he said.

At that moment his phone rang. All eyes turned towards him expectantly and Sarah said, ‘Answer it, guv. Please. It could be news.’

He slipped the phone from his pocket and took the call. It was indeed someone from the office with an update on the case and it made him catch his breath.

A man carrying a young child had been spotted just minutes after Molly was taken. The sighting took place close to the home of Sarah’s parents in Streatham.

Even more significant was the fact that it was believed the pair had been captured on a street camera.

8

Sarah

Brennan had left the flat and so had the police doctor, who had stayed for barely fifteen minutes. He’d convinced me to take a sedative even though I wasn’t keen, but it hadn’t yet kicked in, so it still felt as though I was trapped in a silent scream.

My thoughts raced, my mind was in turmoil, and the fear was twisting in my gut like some caged animal.

I so wanted to believe that the nightmare would end soon and I’d be reunited with my baby. But although the sighting and potential CCTV footage was positive news, the note from the kidnapper stifled any sense of optimism. Every word burned into my soul with a fierce intensity.

It was hard to believe that someone could be so cruel. This wasn’t an opportunistic abduction by a crazy woman who longed for a child of her own. Or an act perpetrated by a couple who didn’t want to go through the rigmarole of an adoption. No, this was pre-meditated and well-planned by someone whose objective was to cause me unbearable pain.

I’ve taken your daughter as punishment for what you did to me. You’ll never touch her or speak to her again. But you will see her grow up. That will be my way of making sure that your suffering does not diminish over time.