Little Girl Gone
STEPHEN EDGER

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KillerReads

an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

Copyright © Stephen Edger 2018

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com

Stephen Edger asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © November 2018 ISBN: 9780008320607

Version: 2019-05-13

For Hannah, Emily, and Ethan, my world

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Epilogue

A Message From Stephen

Keep Reading …

Acknowledgements

Also by Stephen Edger

About the Author

About the Publisher

1

The wipers squawked as they battled to keep the windscreen clear.

‘I’m going to be late,’ Alex Granger muttered to herself, as she strained to see through the gap in the condensation rapidly rising in front of her. Glancing down momentarily she switched the blower to full, the sound of the rushing warm air drowning out the radio.

A giggle from the back seat caused Alex to look up at the rear-view mirror. ‘At least you’re happy enough,’ she said, adding a smile as her eyes met the blonde girl grinning back at her.

A car horn sounded from behind, the driver gesticulating that the traffic lights had finally turned green. Raising her hand in acknowledgement, Alex lowered the handbrake and moved forward, looking left and right for the name of the road where the car park was located. And as if her prayers had been answered, she spotted a large blue ‘P’ on the next street sign, and indicated to the right. The driver behind gave a second blast of his horn as he swerved around her.

‘What’s the hurry, arsehole?’ Alex shouted at the window, suddenly realizing that CarolAnne could hear. Looking back at the reflection of her two-year-old daughter, Alex quickly apologized. ‘Just ignore Mummy’s crazy words.’

Carol-Anne giggled again.

The windscreen still wasn’t clearing, and as Alex spotted the entrance to the car park up ahead, she realized the car’s fans weren’t even aimed at the windscreen. Adjusting the dial, she silently cursed Ray for not putting them back. Her husband had borrowed her car the night before to go to the gym, and she was certain he must have interfered with the way she liked the car to be set up; she’d had to move the seat forward when she first got in that afternoon. She’d remind him when she saw him later, she thought. Right now there were more important things to worry about, like finding a parking space, dropping Carol-Anne at the crèche, and running to her interview. She should have phoned ahead and postponed the interview when traffic had been far heavier than she’d anticipated. It had been the only interview she’d been offered out of the dozen or so jobs she’d applied for in the previous three months, and she hadn’t wanted to make the wrong first impression. Arriving late wouldn’t be a good start though either, she knew.

‘Think positively,’ Alex reminded herself, as she pulled the car through the entrance and began to hunt for a free space.

Carol-Anne giggled and sang away to herself in the back.

‘Tell Mummy if you see an empty space,’ Alex hummed along, as she glanced left and right, completing a full tour of the single-level car park, reaching the exit without luck. She was about to give up when she spotted a yellow umbrella, moving towards one of the cars behind them. Reversing towards the bright glow, Alex lowered the passenger window and called out, ‘Are you going?’

The woman beneath the umbrella looked over and smiled. ‘Yes, in a minute. Do you want my space?’

‘Please, you’re a lifesaver.’ Reversing further to allow enough space for the SUV to pull out, Alex waited for the woman to lower the umbrella, duck into the car and finally drive away.

‘Someone up there must be smiling down on us today,’ Alex mused at Carol-Anne’s reflection; although whoever it was, they could have done something about the weather; arriving looking like a drowned rat wouldn’t help her nail that first impression.

With the SUV finally clear of the space, Alex manoeuvred into it, and killed the engine. ‘Right, that’s the first task complete, now to get a ticket …’ Her words trailed off, as she scanned the car park for the ticket machine, eventually spotting the bright orange machine back over by the entrance. It seemed so far to have to carry Carol-Anne in such horrible weather. There seemed no let-up in the rain sweeping wildly across the car park.

Deciding there was only really one option that would save time and keep Carol-Anne dry, she swivelled round in her seat. ‘Do you think you could be super good for Mummy? I need to go and buy a ticket from that machine over there,’ she said, pointing to where she meant. ‘If I lock the doors, do you think you could sit here really quietly while I go and get it? You’ll have to sit perfectly still so you don’t trigger the alarm. Can you do that for Mummy?’

Carol-Anne blinked back, oblivious to what Alex had asked.

‘No, I can’t do that,’ Alex answered for herself biting her nail. ‘I’ll just have to get you out and bring you with me. It was a stupid idea.’

Turning back, she checked the handbrake was on and ran through the checklist in her mind, before snatching up her handbag from the front seat and reaching for the door handle. But as she prised the door open, a strong gust forced it closed again.

‘Oh, this is just crazy! Does the weather not realize I have a really important interview in twenty – no, correction, eighteen – minutes?’

Her phone bleeped, and the display showed that Ray had sent her a good luck message. He knew how much this opportunity meant to her, and he was doing his best to be supportive, even if he didn’t agree that her returning to work was the best thing for them at this point.

Staring at Carol-Anne’s reflection in the mirror again, she reconsidered her options, before biting the bullet. Removing her purse, she dropped the handbag on the passenger seat, forced her door open and darted into the rain, remote locking the car as she sprinted through the puddles, cursing as the water splashed against her suit trousers.

Was it too late to phone and let them know she was running late? Would they judge her as a poor time-keeper? She’d always been so punctual when she’d worked before giving birth. Ever since Carol-Anne had arrived, she’d found getting anything done on time a struggle. It wasn’t that she’d suddenly become disorganized overnight, there just always seemed to be some kind of hurdle she’d failed to envisage. Like Carol-Anne soiling her nappy the moment they’d got in the car this afternoon, and the mad dash back into the house to change her.

Blinking against the rain, she shielded her eyes as she stared back at her small grey hatchback, tempted to run back and check that none of the hideous outcomes her paranoid mind was picturing had befallen her daughter. And as if to heighten her paranoia, the car’s alarm sounded in a flurry of orange light. Carol-Anne would be terrified by the sudden cacophony. Splashing back a few steps, she killed the alarm with the remote.

Scanning the full car park, she saw there wasn’t a soul in sight, and with time against her, she hurried back to the machine, opening her purse and fishing for change. The rain continued to blind her as she struggled to read the sign and calculate how much she needed, finally dropping three £1 coins into the slot and pressing the green button, forcing herself to look back at the car every few seconds. The orange machine finally whirred and spat out her parking ticket. Snatching it up, she charged back towards the car, relieved to get back in, and take a moment to catch her breath.

‘It is such a minging day,’ she said, finally opening her eyes and wiping rain from her face.

Looking up at the rear-view mirror, the breath caught in her throat.

Spinning around, she stared at the empty child seat, unwilling to believe her own eyes. It had to be some kind of joke. Where the hell was Carol-Anne?

Alex rubbed her eyes, and then dug her freshly polished nails into her skin to wake herself from the sudden nightmare.

The seat remained empty. Turning back to face the front, the ticket machine was barely visible through the rain-soaked windscreen.

This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

Her heart raced, as her mind desperately tried to connect the dots and determine why her daughter was no longer strapped into the chair.

Pushing her door open, Alex stepped back out, no longer noticing the rain as it splashed against her suit and pressed blouse. Still there was no sign of a single person in the car park. She scanned the area for any sudden flash of colour. Was it possible the alarm had frightened Carol-Anne so much that she’d managed to unfasten her belt, get out of her seat and leave the car in search of her Mummy?

It seemed so ridiculous, but what other explanation was there?

Darting to the back of the car, Alex stooped to look beneath it, scouring the floor, only finding puddles where the rainwater had settled. Then stalking along the row, looking in the gaps between the cars, the feeling of dread continued to grow in the pit of her stomach.

‘Carol-Anne? Carol-Anne?’ she called out, hoping that the sound of her terrified voice would find its way to her daughter’s ears.

There was still no sign of Carol-Anne, as she reached the end of the row, and so she turned and sprinted back towards her car, thick raindrops scraping against her cheeks, mixing with the tears that were already flowing uncontrollably.

‘Carol-Anne!’ she screamed at the top of her voice, until her lungs burned.

And as she spun around, desperately hunting for some tiny glimmer – some explanation – her thoughts returned to the car. What if she hadn’t got out? What if she’d been playing a game of hide-and-seek?

Yanking open the rear passenger door, she dived into the back of the car, pushing at the bags on the mats in the footwell, already knowing that she was wasting time, and that her little girl wasn’t there. What was the alternative? Nobody had been near the car.

Had they?

Alex choked down the urge to vomit, her pulse now dangerously high, and the world began to spin around her head.

‘Carol-Anne!’ she screeched at the top of her voice, calling out for the wind to carry her voice to the far edges of the earth.

There wasn’t a soul inside the car park, the only sound that of the rain falling.

Carol-Anne was gone.

2

‘You playing squash tomorrow night, Ray?’

Detective Sergeant Ray Granger looked up at the desk to his right. ‘Not this week, Owen. Shoulder’s still not recovered from the last time.’

‘You pull something?’

Ray ground his teeth to stop himself revealing the real reason he wasn’t going to make squash this week, the same reason his appearances at the fortnightly meet-ups had been so inconsistent for the last few months: the guilt was eating him alive, but he was like a puppy whenever she called him.

Pressing a hand against his right shoulder, Ray made a windmill gesture with his right arm. ‘No idea, mate, it hasn’t been right for a few weeks.’

A glimmer of concern flickered in Owen’s eyes. ‘You seen a doctor about it?’

Ray pulled a face. ‘You kidding? Hard as nails, me.’

Owen smiled and nodded. ‘Of course, I forgot you old-timers think you’re invincible.’

Ray cocked a sceptical eyebrow, knowing his younger colleague was teasing. ‘For one thing, less of the old; I’m only forty. And secondly, just because I don’t panic over every sniffle and self-diagnose a tumour like you wet-nosed graduates, doesn’t mean I think I’m invincible. I guess I just have a better pain threshold than you.’

Owen offered a slight bow out of courtesy, standing and lifting his mug. ‘You want a brew?’

Ray handed over his mug with a nod. ‘Cheers.’

‘No worries. Wouldn’t want you to develop a hernia by moving too quickly.’ Owen grinned, leaping out of the way as Ray pretended to take a swing in his direction.

DC Owen Hargrove was proving to be a decent copper, and his ability to deliver banter and stir shit was second to none in the unit. Leaning back in his chair, Ray observed his own reflection in the tall window next to his desk. Although he still felt like a man in his twenties, his appearance put him at double that age. Hair thinning from the age of nineteen, he’d shaved his head clean at twenty-five, choosing not to waste countless hours of his life worrying about the developing bald patch and ways to cover it. His father had also lost his hair at an early age, so what was the point in fighting against genetics?

Of course the bulging midriff wasn’t something he could blame on his father. Too many processed meals, grabbed on the hop when time allowed, and too many nights spent sinking beer after beer to reduce stress, had taken their toll. It was lucky he wasn’t applying to join the force today, as he’d struggle to meet the fitness requirements.

‘You thinking about making your comeback as a model, Ray?’

Looking up, he spotted the detective inspector hovering over the soundboard. ‘They couldn’t afford me, ma’am.’

‘Underwear, wasn’t it?’ DI Serena Trent laughed slyly.

Ray grinned back at her. ‘That’s right.’ He paused, as he considered her statement. ‘You know I could have you done for sexual harassment for a comment like that, ma’am. I mean, picturing me in my underwear isn’t exactly professional, is it?’ He laughed to show he was kidding.

Trent pulled a disgusted face. ‘I wasn’t picturing you in underwear, but I am now. Eurgh, the image is ingrained on my eyelids. Thanks for that, Ray.’

He chuckled. ‘Always aim to please, ma’am. Did you want me for something?’

Trent regained her composure. ‘Team brief in a few minutes to check where everyone is with their caseloads. Got something big on the horizon and I’ll need all hands on deck. How was your training course last week?’

A week away from home, staying in a hotel with meals on expenses: it had been just what he had needed. The training itself had been less exciting. When he would ever need to use the hostage negotiation techniques was beyond him, but the DI had recommended he go to aid his development. Not that he could see himself climbing the career ladder anytime soon.

‘It was interesting, ma’am. I appreciate you sending me.’

‘I’ll get you to give the rest of the team an overview in the next few weeks. And if any nutcase decides to rob a bank around here and take hostages, you’ll be the first one I call.’

He mock saluted as she moved away from the desk, calling together the rest of the team. Glancing at the framed photograph on the corner of his desk, he suddenly remembered that Alex’s interview was approaching. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he typed a quick message of support and pressed send.

He grabbed the frame and held it tight. He loved this picture: Alex with her shoulderlength brown hair was positively glowing, while Carol-Anne nestled in her arms, as they both relaxed on holiday. He could still remember taking the picture, and how proud he’d been of his little family. It was the day Alex had told him she was expecting their second child. He lowered the frame back to the desk face down; so much had happened in the six months that had passed since then, yet the pain felt just as raw as the day the sonographer had told them she couldn’t trace a heartbeat. Alex had later admitted to fearing something wasn’t right.

Pocketing the phone, Ray locked his workstation and made his way to the group of ten forming a semicircle around the main board. Perching on one of the desks, Owen handed him his mug of tea, as Trent quietened them down.

‘First of all,’ Trent began, standing in front of the board allowing her to make eye contact with each of them, ‘can we welcome back DS Ray Granger from his trip to Hendon? Ray has been learning the Met’s latest negotiation techniques from an instructor who has been working in Asia and the Middle East for the past decade.’

Ray nodded as his colleagues acknowledged his return. It seemed a bit staged, particularly as he’d only been away for a week, but it was Trent’s way of micromanaging her team.

‘So, when it comes round to the annual pay review, I’ll be delegating to Ray to negotiate on my behalf, and I’ll be expecting a bumper pay rise, Ray.’

‘They won’t know what’s hit them, ma’am,’ Ray smiled.

The group laughed.

‘Onto other matters,’ Trent continued, ‘we’ve had a tip-off that a new crew are smuggling counterfeit goods through the docks. The chief super has signed off a two-week surveillance op with overtime available for those who want to be involved. It’ll mean working all hours, with a view to crashing the ring by the end of the month.

‘I’ll be leading the surveillance, and we’ll be working closely with our colleagues in Organised Crime to identify the main players and set up further surveillance on their activities. The potential return on this one could be in the millions, which is why it’s been sanctioned. I want names on the board by the time I finish today so I can coordinate who’s doing what over the next fortnight.’

Ray pressed a hand to his pocket as his phone vibrated.

‘Everything okay, Ray?’ Trent asked.

All eyes fell on Ray as the phone continued to vibrate in his pocket. Trent was a stickler for keeping work and personal lives separate. She acknowledged that her team all had lives outside of the office, though she didn’t like it encroaching on her time.

‘Sorry, ma’am,’ Ray replied, lowering his eyes.

‘Right, where are we with the armed robbery at the post office in Portswood last Friday?’

An arm shot up. ‘CCTV has four masked men making their escape in a Transit from Portswood,’ DS Jodie Crichton explained. ‘Plates are false. We tracked the vehicle as far as the M3 before we lost sight of it. Having spoken to colleagues in Dorset and Berkshire, this could just be the latest in a string of robberies. It has the hallmarks of raids in Swindon, Bournemouth and Reading. The group are heavily armed – four men and a getaway driver – and only hit post offices, focusing primarily on their foreign exchange booths. One stands watch at the main door, keeping a check on the time via a stopwatch around his neck. He seems to be the one in charge. Each time, when it gets to exactly three minutes, he signals and the rest of the group haul tail out of there. They are very efficient from what I can see, using a different van each time, always with false plates, and always abandoned and torched with no DNA or fingerprints discovered at any of the wrecks or crime scenes.’

‘Do the other teams have any idea who the group are?’ Trent asked.

Crichton shook her head. ‘None, ma’am. The group are masked in all of the footage from the post offices.’

The phone was vibrating again, and this time Ray pulled it out and dropped it into the drawer of the desk he was sitting on.

Trent fired a look at him, before turning back to Jodie. ‘What about MOs of other crews?’

‘Still checking for similarities. I’ll keep you posted.’

‘Ray, you’ve got some free time on your hands. I want you to work with Jodie on this. Okay?’

Ray nodded as the sound of the vibrating phone echoed quietly in the drawer.

‘Good. Owen, what have you got for us in terms of news on the streets?’

Owen Hargrove stepped forward. ‘Uniform have reported a string of muggings in the precinct area of Shirley. Victims have described a tall girl, aged maybe fifteen or sixteen, with long brown hair. There’s also been three burglaries at properties in Hedge End. Can’t say for sure if they’re connected at this stage.’

‘Anything else?’

‘The only other thing they mentioned was the release of Jack Whitchurch, ma’am: convicted sex offender. He’s been released on bail and has been relocated outside of the county; they’re wary of reprisals, and have been asked to keep a watch on his property. We also need to make contact with his previous victims and advise them of his release. I’ll see if uniform can do house visits.’

‘Okay, thank you for the update. Don’t forget, names on the board by tonight. Back to work.’

Ray waited for the team to disperse, and in particular DI Trent, before opening the drawer and pulling out his phone. Five missed calls from Alex, and voicemail. It was unlike her to be so persistent when she knew he was working. Pocketing the phone, he headed for the exit.

3

Six calls and messages to Ray had yielded no results.

Where the hell was he, and why wasn’t he answering?

He should know that she wouldn’t keep calling unless it was an emergency.

The rain was still heavy. She no longer cared that her hair looked like she’d just stepped out of the shower and that her eyeliner had left streaks down her cheeks. None of that mattered anymore.

Returning to the back of the car, she opened and checked the boot for a second time. She knew it was impossible that Carol-Anne could have figured out how to lower the rear seats and crawl through to the boot, but she was fast running out of ideas about where her daughter could have gone.

She’d never felt so scared in all her life. What if Carol-Anne had somehow managed to get out of the car, and rather than walking towards Alex had taken a wrong turn? What if a car had hit her? Or what if she was out there now, lost and alone and wondering why her Mummy had abandoned her?

Why hadn’t she just taken Carol-Anne to the ticket machine with her? That would be the first question Ray would fire at her, and he’d be right to blame her for the moment of madness. She’d thought she was doing the right thing. She’d locked the car so Carol-Anne would be safe. And then the alarm had sounded. She hadn’t looked away for any real length of time, she was sure of that.

She replayed the two-minute period over and over in her mind, hunting for any detail or clue that would help her see through the fog of uncertainty clouding her every thought. She was certain she had strapped the harness around Carol-Anne before they’d set off from home. She would have noticed otherwise, wouldn’t she? Even so, there was no way Carol-Anne could have figured out how to unclip the harness herself. God knew, it was struggle enough to put the damned thing on each time, how could a two-year-old manage to undo it? Why else wouldn’t she be there now? As ridiculous as it sounded, if Carol-Anne hadn’t unfastened the harness that could only mean someone else had, and Alex was doing everything in her power to keep those thoughts from her mind.

Realistically it was the most likely explanation, but to cave in to that conclusion was to invite a whole new world of pain. The urge to vomit was returning, and this time she stooped over and dry-retched.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked at her phone. Ray still hadn’t replied. He’d know what to do. He was always so much more pragmatic than she was. And given his experience in the force, he’d know what steps to follow. She desperately hoped – even though deep down she knew she was kidding herself – that Ray had stopped by, seen Carol-Anne alone, and he’d been the one to take her, and that was why she couldn’t now get hold of him. He was playing some kind of twisted game; that had to be it! He hadn’t been that keen on her coming for the interview, and so rather than supporting her decision, he was retaliating in the cruellest way.

Slamming the boot, she moved back to Carol-Anne’s window and stared in. When she had last turned to look at her daughter, there had been no sign to suggest the harness had been loose or not clipped together. She never would have considered leaving her alone in the car if she had thought there was some way Carol-Anne could have fallen from the seat.

How could anyone else have taken her?

She retraced her steps back to the ticket machine, playing the memory in real time. She had locked the car with the remote as she had darted through the rain. It had beeped as the alarm had cut in. And then when she’d got to the machine the alarm had sounded, meaning Carol-Anne had to have been in the car then.

She froze halfway to the machine, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end; what if Carol-Anne hadn’t been the cause of the alarm being triggered?

Alex had looked over at the car as the alarm had sounded. She would have noticed somebody lurking at the side of the car, wouldn’t she? And there had been no sign of anyone anywhere in the car park. She would have seen a stranger snatching her daughter, wouldn’t she?

Having switched the alarm off, she couldn’t have been by the ticket machine for more than twenty seconds – thirty at most – and then she’d hurried back. If somebody had opened Carol-Anne’s door, unfastened the harness, closed the door and snuck away, Alex would have spotted them. There had been no colour among the drab view of cars as the rain had thundered down; she was sure of that. There had to be something else she was missing.

Alex jumped as her phone burst into sound. ‘Oh, Ray, thank God, where have you been?’

‘Sorry, babe, I was in a team meeting. How’d your interview go? Do you think you got it?’

‘I need you, Ray. Right now! It’s Carol-Anne … she’s-she’s-she’s …’ but Alex couldn’t bring herself to say the words as her eyes filled with tears, threatening to burst at any second.

‘Carol-Anne. What’s wrong? Is she okay? Has something happened?’

Alex tilted her head back, desperate not to burst the damn holding the tears in place.

‘Alex? What’s going on? Where are you?’

‘She’s gone,’ she managed, her voice barely a whisper, as the tears ran down her cheeks.

‘She’s what? I didn’t hear what you said. It sounded like—’

‘She’s gone, Ray. I think someone’s taken her. Oh God,’ she sobbed.

‘What do you mean someone’s taken her? Where are you, Alex?’

‘I came to town for my interview, and I was in the car park w-w-when …’

‘What car park, Alex? Tell me exactly where you are and I’ll come across straight away.’

‘The Woodside Road car park. Please hurry, Ray.’

The line disconnected, and Alex buried her head in her hands, willing Ray to arrive and save her fragile mind.

The sudden sound of a child’s laughter caused the sobbing to stop almost immediately, as she strained to hear where it was coming from. Scanning the car park once more, Alex saw a woman in a long, hooded jacket, loading something into her back seat. Setting off without a second’s thought, Alex splashed through the puddles in the uneven surface.

The hooded woman was now fewer than twenty yards away. She was closing the rear door of her estate car, and already had a hand on the driver’s side door handle. Alex had never been much of a runner, but from somewhere deep she found the drive to move her legs quicker, almost colliding with the car’s bumper, as she tried to steady herself. The woman jumped as Alex rested both hands on the bonnet; this woman wasn’t going anywhere with her daughter.

The woman pulled her hood down to reveal a mop of tight strawberry-blonde curls. Winding her window down, she leaned out and called to Alex. ‘Can I help you with something? Do you want my space?’

Alex sucked in lungfuls of air, as she tried to steady her breathing. Rather than replying, she stalked around to the rear passenger door, and tried to stare through the rain-covered and misted glass. A bob of fair hair could be seen in a child seat.

Alex pulled on the door handle, but it was locked.

‘Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ the woman demanded, now standing with one leg in the car and one outside. ‘Get away from my car.’

‘Give me my daughter back,’ Alex demanded, standing firm. ‘Open this door.’

The woman stared back at her, puzzled. ‘I’m warning you: get away from my daughter’s door. I’ll call the police,’ she threatened holding her mobile aloft.

‘Good,’ Alex fired back wide-eyed with anger. ‘Call them. Then you can explain to them why you took my daughter from my car and tried to drive off with her.’

The woman looked around the car park, as if she was expecting a film crew to appear at any moment and reveal Alex’s behaviour was all part of an elaborate practical joke. ‘I won’t tell you again: back away from my car so I can leave.’

‘Give me back my daughter!’

‘I don’t have your daughter!’ the woman screamed back. ‘That is my daughter in the car.’

Alex stepped back uncertainly. ‘Of course you’d say that.’

The woman’s anger boiled over. Straightening, she slammed the door behind her and stomped past Alex, opening the rear passenger door. ‘Take a look yourself!’

Alex hurried forward, stopping only when her eyes fell on the blue eyes of the toddler staring back at her, clearly worried by the raised voices.

Alex stared from the toddler to the angry mother.

‘Well? Satisfied now?’

Alex wobbled, before falling to her knees despite the wet ground, and allowing her terror to escape in a sorrowful scream.

The other woman closed and locked her daughter’s door, before crouching down beside Alex. ‘Are you okay, love?’

‘My-my-my daughter,’ Alex wailed. ‘She’s missing.’

The woman gasped, understanding the sheer terror that had driven Alex to behave so irrationally. Suddenly all the anger was gone from her voice. ‘Missing? You poor thing. When did you last see her?’

Alex couldn’t respond, as the sobs returned with a vengeance. The woman opened the front passenger door and manoeuvred Alex into it, before racing around and diving into her own seat.

Offering a packet of tissues, she said, ‘Is there anything I can do? Can I call someone for you?’

‘My husband is on his way,’ Alex replied, through stilted breaths, accepting one of the tissues and blowing her nose, embarrassed by her outburst and accusation.

‘When did this happen?’

Alex did her best to steady her breathing, but she might as well have not bothered. ‘Just now … I left her in the car while I went to get a ticket … one minute she was there, and the next …’ Her eyes stung as further tears threatened to fall.

‘Oh my, you poor thing. Have you called the police?’

Alex nodded. ‘My husband’s in … I mean, my husband is a detective.’

‘You’re welcome to wait here until he arrives,’ the woman offered. ‘What does your daughter look like? Was she wearing a coat?’

‘She has blonde hair and the cutest face … she was wearing a bright red anorak.’

The woman’s eyes darted left and right as she too began to search helplessly for any sign of Carol-Anne. ‘She can’t have gone far. Have you tried heading out to the main road in case she wandered off?’

Alex shook her head.

‘That’s probably what’s happened,’ the woman concluded, trying to sound positive for both of their sakes. ‘I know what kids can be like. My little one wandered off in a supermarket once. Scared me to death, she did. I was searching everywhere for her, and when I returned to the trolley there she was, totally oblivious to the years she’d shaved off my life expectancy. I’m sure your daughter will turn up too. The important thing is to remain focused.’

Alex looked up at the woman through clouded eyes. ‘I’m sorry about what I said—’

‘Don’t be silly. I imagine I’d have been far ruder in your situation. I’m sorry I was so abrupt with you initially.’

‘How old is your little one?’ Alex asked.

‘Eighteen months,’ the woman replied, turning and smiling at her daughter to reassure her. ‘And yours?’

‘Two years.’ Alex paused. ‘What kind of mother would allow her daughter to be snatched like this?’

Neither answered the question. Alex stared back out into the rain-washed car park, her paranoia going into overdrive.

4

Ray was still squeezing the phone as Owen returned to his desk.

‘Everything okay, Ray?’

Ray took a deep breath, trying to suppress the blizzard of questions racing through his mind. ‘Um, no … I don’t know …’

Owen frowned at his colleague. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?’

Ray blinked several times, his mind in limbo somewhere between reality and disbelief. ‘That was Alex … she said that someone has taken our daughter … I need to go.’

Owen’s eyes widened at the admission. ‘Someone’s taken her? Like, as in, taken her?’

The computer on the desk blurred as Ray tried to focus on where he was and what he needed to do next. Nausea swept through him as the room began to spin. Reaching out for his chair, he steadied himself.

Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Owen lowered his mug to the desk and grabbed a set of keys from the tray on one of the cabinets. ‘Come on, I’ll drive you.’

Ray allowed Owen to lead him from the office, down the double set of stairs and into the yard where the team’s unmarked squad cars rested.

Holding the key aloft, Owen pressed the remote and looked to see which unlocked, nodding towards the Focus. ‘That one,’ he said, as he grabbed Ray’s arm and put him in the passenger seat.

It was like he was watching a film of his life, with some not-so-attractive actor playing him. He knew what was happening, but had no control over where the script would take them.

Among the questions to be considered was whether he should report the phone call to DI Trent immediately, but he needed to assess the situation first. It wouldn’t be the first time Alex had overreacted to a simple situation.

Things hadn’t been right with her since the miscarriage, and he’d urged her to see a counsellor after the loss. She’d assured him she didn’t need it, and had focused her attention on Carol-Anne and then hunting for a new job. But she’d been on edge, flying off the handle at the littlest of irritations, constantly lethargic. And then two weeks after it happened, he’d found her in what would have been the nursery holding a knife. She insisted she’d been washing up and had become distracted by the sound of crying, which is why she’d climbed the stairs. Thankfully, Carol-Anne had been with him at the shop, and was oblivious to her mother’s delicate state of mind.

Then there was what had happened in Manchester with the girl at the park. He’d insisted on counselling after that, and she’d had no choice but to go, though he couldn’t remember the last time she’d talked about her progress, or even the last time he’d seen her take the medication the GP had prescribed.

Calling to tell him someone had taken Carol-Anne: could her mind have finally snapped? Alex was many things, but could she really have done something to put their daughter’s life in danger? Ray desperately hoped he was misjudging his wife, although only time would tell.

‘Where are we headed?’ Owen asked as he started the engine.

‘The car park off Woodside Road, down from the Civic Centre.’

‘I know the place. Belt up.’ Owen nodded, engaging the lights built in to the grill. ‘What else did Alex tell you?’

Ray tried to recall the conversation. Usually his memory was good; however a flurry of questions interrupted every time he tried to hear Alex’s words again. ‘She was going to town for an interview. She was supposed to be dropping our daughter at a crèche, heading to the Civic Centre for the interview, picking up Carol-Anne and then coming home.’

‘What time was the interview?’

‘At three, I think.’

Owen noted the time on the dashboard display. ‘Well she either didn’t make it, or it was the shortest interview in history. Do you think someone took your daughter from the crèche? I mean, do you think it could be a simple mix-up? Like the supervisors gave the wrong child to the wrong mother?’

Ray could only hope it was that simple, but the anxiety in Alex’s voice had suggested something far worse had happened.

‘Either way,’ Owen concluded, ‘we should probably call it in. You know how vital the first hours are in abduction cases. At the very least, we should see if there are any units in the area. If someone has snatched your daughter, we should get a description out there as soon as possible.’

Owen put the radio to his mouth and called it in, requesting backup at the car park.

‘I really appreciate your support,’ Ray said when the radio quietened.

‘Listen, mate, you don’t need to say thank you. You know we take care of our own. And if some nutcase has snatched your daughter, we’ll do everything to get her back.’

Ray appreciated the sentiment, even if it was scant consolation. He couldn’t stop picturing a future where a tiny coffin was lowered into the ground, and it was all he could do not to break down.

The patrol car was first on the scene, swiftly followed by Owen and Ray, with a third joining moments later.

‘Do you see Alex?’ Owen asked, scanning the immediate vicinity.

Ray couldn’t, at first, surprised at how busy the car park was. ‘There’s her car,’ he said, recognizing the registration number and pointing at the hatchback.

Owen brought the car to a halt immediately in front of Alex’s, and the two of them jumped out. Noticing that Alex wasn’t behind the wheel, he pulled out his phone and called her, and she was soon running over to them, throwing her arms around his neck.

‘Oh, Ray, thank God, I only looked away for a moment, and …’

Ray wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her still for a moment, knowing that he needed to be pragmatic. Now wasn’t the time for emotion. ‘Tell me what happened.’

Alex steadied herself before recounting the story, retracing her steps, explaining her actions throughout. ‘I couldn’t have been looking away for anything more than twenty to thirty seconds, I swear to you.’

Owen was examining the door handle, shining his phone’s torch on it, looking for any obvious fingerprints or smudges. ‘And you said the car was locked?’

‘Yes. The alarm sounded while I was at the machine, but I couldn’t see anyone, and assumed it was Carol-Anne moving about that had caused it.’

Ray remained standing in front of the car, scouring the horizon for potential security cameras that might have captured what had happened, only spotting one some distance behind the car park.

For the first time his blood ran cold. His little girl – his bundle and joy – was out there alone and needed him more than ever.

Ray called Owen over as his training kicked in. ‘Do me a favour: get Alex out of this rain; put her in the back of our car and take her to get a cup of tea or something, will you? There will be a mountain of questions to scale, and she needs to be calm and rational.’

Owen nodded and moved over to Alex. She looked at Ray as Owen spoke to her, and he gave her a nod to confirm she should go with Owen. Waiting until the car had pulled away, he instructed the uniforms to set up a perimeter, preventing access to the car park, and to take the names and identification of anyone returning to collect their vehicle. And then with trembling fingers, he searched for Trent’s number, placing the phone to his ear.

5

In the back of the police car, Alex was helpless as she watched the scene around her unfolding.

‘You’d be better off waiting at home,’ Ray had said after Owen had brought her back from the drive-thru. ‘I promise I’ll phone as soon as we know more.’

How could she return home and pretend that everything was normal? What did he expect her to do: make the dinner like usual? She had no idea of the time, but as the darkness was drawing closer, it had to be gone six. Where had the time gone?

As she watched technicians in protective paper suits carefully examining the ground in and around her car, none of it felt real. Her nails were chewed to the quick and her wrists red raw from scratching; no matter what she tried, she couldn’t wake from the nightmare.

Who would have taken Carol-Anne, and why? She could understand an opportunistic thief stealing a handbag left on a seat, or a mobile device left unattended; it wasn’t right, but she could understand the mentality. Maybe they could sell their loot to fund drugs or drink. What could someone possibly gain from taking Carol-Anne?

And how had they known where to get her from? There was no way anyone could have foreseen that Alex would be running late for the interview, that she would choose that particular parking space, or that she would be stupid enough to leave Carol-Anne unattended, while she dashed through the rain to purchase a ticket.

So, what did that leave? Some predator who just happened to be in the vicinity? It didn’t ring true. Someone sick enough to abduct a child had happened to be in the car park, near her car at the right moment? That didn’t tally in her mind.

What else did that leave?

She could see from Ray’s reaction what he was thinking. He’d hardly said more than two words to her since he’d arrived. Why wasn’t this affecting him in the same way? Why wasn’t he pulling out his hair with worry? Instead, he was busying himself talking to the technicians, doing anything that kept him away from the car she’d been shepherded to. Couldn’t he see how much she needed him right now? Couldn’t they just temporarily forget all the arguments and focus on supporting each other? Isn’t that what relationships were all about? Wasn’t that what they’d promised on their wedding day?

Maybe it was just more evidence of his infidelity. She had no doubt he’d loved her once, but in reality they’d been going through the motions for months. The miscarriage had stolen more than just their unborn child.

If she was right about the real reason he was avoiding her, what did that mean for their future together? She’d seen it when she’d explained what had happened. That look, so subtle, yet so apparent to someone who had shared so many tender moments with him.

He thought she was lying.

As the minutes continued to disappear into the mire of history, even she was beginning to question her version of events. Had Carol-Anne definitely been in the car? Or had Alex’s fragile psyche snapped and her mind created the memory to cover up the truth? After what had happened at that park in Manchester, she knew it was a possibility, yet the memory was so real. She couldn’t have fabricated Carol-Anne giggling, could she? And if she had, where the hell was Carol-Anne now? Already Ray had been home and confirmed she wasn’t there.

‘You’re not crazy,’ Alex muttered under her breath, failing to convince even herself. ‘You’re not crazy,’ she said, firmer this time.

She felt numb to the anxiety now. Troubled thoughts continued to flood her mind, each one like a paper cut, inflicting pain; eventually they would kill her. Her pulse and heartbeat had slowed drastically, as her body subconsciously came to terms with the prospect that there was nothing she could do to fix this terrible occurrence. The pill she’d found in the bottom of her handbag had probably helped, the last of her prescription from Dr Kirkman. Maybe that was why the scene outside the car was occurring in slow motion despite the minutes on the clock passing so quickly.

At least Ray hadn’t blamed her yet. He had to be thinking it behind those dark brooding eyes of his; however he hadn’t uttered the words, and she appreciated that. Carrying the guilt was hard enough, and having him to share the burden was a blessing. She wished he was sitting in the car with her now, but Ray wasn’t someone who could just sit on the sidelines and watch the game unfold. Especially not where Carol-Anne was concerned. He needed to be involved, even though he would probably be assigned to other duties as the full investigation launched. For now, at least, his DI was allowing him to observe.

The driver’s door opening snapped her back to reality. The woman who took the seat was older than Alex, and with a slender frame and taut shoulders, she carried a confidence suited to her role.

‘Alex? I’m Detective Inspector Serena Trent,’ the woman said, extending her hand. ‘I’ve read the statement you gave earlier, and I’m hoping you can clarify a few points for me.’

Alex nodded, her pulse already quickening.

‘In the statement you said you had to wait for that particular space?’

Alex nodded again, terrified that the detective could read her mind.

‘Did you speak to the woman whose space you took?’

Alex coughed, and when she spoke sounded croaky. ‘Briefly, just to check she was leaving.’

‘And can you describe what this woman looked like?’

Alex frowned. ‘I don’t remember.’

‘Hair colour? Eye colour?’

The only thing she could remember was that bright yellow umbrella. She wasn’t even sure they’d spoken anymore.

‘Did she have any other distinguishing features? Glasses, distinctive nose, anything like that?’

Alex stared blankly back at her, too exhausted to cry again.

‘Can you remember the make and model of her car? Or any part of the registration plate?’

Alex watched DI Trent. Was she being serious? Did she really think the woman with the yellow umbrella had taken Carol-Anne? Was that even possible? Alex had seen the SUV pull away, but had it actually exited the car park? What did Trent know that she didn’t?

‘Alex? I said, can you remember the make or model of the car?’ Trent repeated.

Alex shook her head, staring down at her hands as they scratched at the scars on her wrists.

‘Given the proximity of her departure and your dash to the ticket machine, she could be a potential witness. It would be good if we can identify her in case she saw anyone strange hanging about the place.’

Alex raised her head, considering the woman before her, in whom she was expected to put all her trust. Ray had mentioned Trent’s name in passing, although he’d never said how attractive she was. The skin around her eyes wasn’t as smooth as her neck, and she didn’t look as old as Alex was certain she was. Her face bore little by way of make-up, and her bleached hair seemed to hang effortlessly, without need of grips or spray.

‘I’m sorry,’ Alex eventually said.

Trent narrowed her eyes. ‘And there was a second woman you interacted with too?’

Alex blushed at the memory.

‘In your statement you said you thought she might have taken your daughter,’ Trent encouraged.

‘I thought I heard Carol-Anne’s voice.’

Trent watched her in silence for a moment. ‘I’m going to apologize in advance for my next question, but I need to know, Alex, have you taken any pills or consumed any alcohol today?’

Alex ground her teeth, her nails scratching feverishly. ‘No.’

‘Are you taking any medication, prescribed or otherwise?’

How could she know about that? Surely Ray hadn’t told his boss what they had been through this past year? If he had, it would explain why Trent was looking at her so strangely.

Trent ran a hand over her face, as if wiping away the guilt of having to ask the question. ‘It’s a strange case for me to be involved with – knowing Ray so well – and vicariously knowing you through his eyes.’

The hairs on the back of Alex’s neck tingled. ‘What’s he said?’

Trent raised her hands in a calming gesture. ‘Nothing bad. As his superior I’m obviously aware of what you both went through a few months ago, and—’

‘My miscarriage has nothing to do with this.’

‘I’m not saying it has, Alex, I just meant I know the pressure the two of you have been under, and stress can do strange things; the mind can play tricks.’

‘I didn’t imagine this! Someone took my daughter.’ For the first time Alex wanted to believe the words, even if Trent would take more convincing.

‘Our Scene of Crime specialists have been searching for forensics in and around your car, and so far they’ve not found anything to suggest anybody else had access to the car. The only prints on the rear door handle are a match to your own, presumably created fresh today when you put Carol-Anne in the back of the car. What’s also odd is they’ve found no loose hairs anywhere in the back of the car; has it been cleaned recently?’

It had been at the garage for a service yesterday, but what did that have to do with this?

‘Do you keep a spare key for the vehicle at home?’ Trent continued.

Alex nodded.

‘Does anyone else have access to your home who might have used the key to get to Carol-Anne in the back?’

‘I unlocked the car when the alarm went off.’

Trent smiled thinly. ‘We have to consider the possibility that whoever took your daughter came here with that intention. We have to investigate every possibility. Where do you keep the spare key?’

‘It’s in a drawer in our bedroom.’

‘Have you had any friends or family around socially recently? Or do you have a cleaner or regular babysitter who’s been in your home?’

Alex couldn’t think of a single friend or relative who would deliberately take Carol-Anne. ‘No.’

‘And when did you last check the key was there?’

Alex opened her mouth to speak. She had no idea when she’d last seen the spare key. It wasn’t something that had ever crossed her mind. It was just there. In the unlikely event she ever lost her keys or somehow locked them in the car, she would know where to find the spare.

‘I’m sure it was there when I last checked.’

‘Which was when?’

Alex shrugged. ‘I don’t remember. Only Ray and I have access to our home.’

‘I’m just doing my job, Alex. I need to establish the facts if I’m to investigate what really happened here. I don’t mean to be blunt, but the sooner we cut through the bullshit, the better it’ll be for Carol-Anne.’

Alex looked away as she felt the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes.

‘I want you to give me a list of guests – friends, colleagues, and strangers – who may have visited your home in the last month.’

Alex felt embarrassed that the list of names could be counted on one hand with fingers to spare.

Trent sighed. ‘I’m going to assign one of my best Family Liaison Officers to stay with you and Ray for the next few days. She’s experienced in dealing with family traumas and will be able to keep you informed of progress on the investigation. Do you have space at home where she can stay?’

The thought of a stranger in her house filled Alex with dread, but she nodded regardless. As the darkness continued to envelope the horizon, she was certain Carol-Anne was still alive, and very much in danger. If having someone in her home would keep her up to date with what was going on, that’s what she would do.

6

Ray watched as Trent exited the patrol car and headed over to the Crime Scene Manager. Alex was staring at him from the back of the car, and although he could see the pain in her eyes, he turned away.

She needed comfort and support, but he didn’t trust himself to provide it. Maybe once upon a time it would have been easier, but not anymore. He wanted to reassure her: to tell her that he wouldn’t rest until Carol-Anne was back safe and sound. He knew if he went over there now and tried to empathize, he would allow his own anxiety and terror to seep through the cracks in his armour, and then he would be no good to anyone.

He had to remain strong for Carol-Anne, and if that was at the expense of Alex’s delicate emotions then so be it. He didn’t want to turn his back, but he didn’t have enough strength for both of them. Carol-Anne was his priority, and getting her home safe his only objective.

‘Can I have a cigarette?’ he asked, as DC Owen Hargrove approached.

Owen reached for the packet and opened the lid. ‘Thought you quit.’

Ray drew a cigarette from the packet and placed it between his lips. ‘I did.’ He leaned in as Owen held the lighter forward.

Taking a deep drag, Ray had forgotten how toxic that first inhale tasted. Like a mixture of antiseptic and faeces. He quickly exhaled and took a second pull, the endorphins beginning to bubble somewhere in his head. ‘Thanks.’

Owen squashed the lighter into the carton, and handed it to Ray. ‘Keep them. I get the impression that won’t be your last.’

Owen was giving him that look, a mixture of pity and relief that he wasn’t the one suffering the pain. Ray knew the look as he’d offered it to victims of crime on so many occasions, yet he’d never realized how tough it was to face. He could feel the lump growing in his throat, and took another drag on the cigarette. There would be a time for him to deal with the toll of the emotion and stress of the situation. Not yet.

Ray nodded his thanks. ‘Where are we with locating local security camera footage?’

‘No street cameras in the local area, and considering where the car park is – off a residential street – there are no local businesses with cameras pointed in this direction.’

‘What about that one?’ Ray asked, pointing at the tall pole directly behind the car park that he’d spotted on arrival.

Owen’s face contorted. ‘It points directly at the ticket machine, and the cars in the immediate vicinity, though that’s only about five or so of them. It was set up to capture anyone trying to steal from the machine. And the footage isn’t great. It isn’t a live stream, rather still images captured every ten seconds.’

‘Have you watched it?’

Owen nodded. ‘Alex can be seen approaching the machine, then leaving the shot, which is presumably when she turned the alarm off, and then returning to purchase her ticket.’

‘At least that proves she isn’t lying about what happened.’ He inhaled deeply, welcoming the burn in his throat. ‘And there are no cars or people seen entering or leaving the car park in that time?’

Owen shook his head. ‘It’s as good as useless, mate. It isn’t even in colour. I think the owners must have put it up more as a deterrent than to actually serve a purpose.’

‘Can I see it?’

‘Trent has instructed us not to share any information with you, unless she clears it first. You know how it is.’

Ray fixed him with a look, forcing eye contact. ‘Come on, Owen, what harm can viewing the footage do? Please?’

Owen returned the look, before finally relenting. ‘Okay, but it stays between the two of us. Trent can be a Rottweiler and I don’t want her on my arse.’

Ray remained where he was while Owen moved across to one of the SOCO team vans, returning a moment later with an iPad, holding it to his chest, and standing directly in front of Ray so nobody would see what they were doing.

Tapping the screen, Ray watched as Alex came into view, the shot captured at 14:47:20. She could be seen studying the sign above the machine, calculating how much she would need to pay. In the next image, Alex could be seen staring back at the vehicle, before disappearing in the next shot, as Owen had described, and then returning at 14:47:50. At 14:48:40, Alex was facing the car, and at 14:48:50, she was out of shot.

‘I want to watch it again,’ Ray said, discarding the cigarette and squashing it under foot.

‘Why?’ Owen asked. ‘I’ve watched it a dozen times, and there is nothing going on in the background. Just Alex and the machine.’

Ray glared until Owen tapped it again and the first shot appeared on the screen. The grainy image wasn’t ideal; and it was only because they knew the figure to be Alex that they could actually be certain it was her. Even if another figure had appeared in the background, there was no way they’d be able to identify who it was.

‘A two-minute window,’ Ray concluded when the footage once again stopped.

‘How do you figure that?’

‘At 14:47:20 she is looking at the machine, and she isn’t heading back to the car until 14:48:50.’

‘Yeah, but she moves away to switch off the alarm at 14:47:40, and is staring at the car a minute later, leaving a fifty-second window at best.’

‘Not if the culprit was already ducking down behind the car when Alex left. Let’s say for a moment that whoever took Carol-Anne had it all planned. Somehow they knew Alex would be here and would leave Carol-Anne in the car. It’s what, a twenty to thirty second walk to the machine from where she’s parked? Which would mean she first turned her back on the car at 14:46:50. If the culprit opened the door, and pulled Carol-Anne out, they could have been well away by the time Alex first turns back to look at the car at 14:47:30. Even if they were still crouching down by the car at that point, there’s still another minute to get away.’

‘And go where? Alex didn’t see anyone.’

‘Another vehicle more than likely. She didn’t look in every car. What if the perpetrator was already in the car park waiting for Alex to arrive? He or she could have returned to their car and waited until Alex wasn’t looking again, then driven off.’

‘You’re basing this on no evidence whatsoever.’

‘It’s like a magician’s trick: smoke and mirrors. With the heavy rain, condensation on the windscreen, a car park packed full of cars, and a mother under extreme stress, it’s the only explanation that fits.’

‘It doesn’t narrow down who took her or why.’ Owen quickly apologized for the remark, having briefly forgotten how involved Ray was. ‘I’d better get the iPad back to the van before anyone realizes it’s missing.’ Owen paused and squeezed Ray’s arm. ‘We’ll get her back, mate. You have to let us do what we do best.’

Ray wasn’t listening, his imagination already working through a list of suspects who would want to see him suffer such cruelty. He’d locked up his fair share of villains over the years, but none who would devise a revenge as complex as snatching a child from an open car park. Yet what else did that leave?

For now he needed answers from the only witness at the scene. Making his way to the patrol car, he climbed into the back, unable to bring himself to meet Alex’s eyes.

‘You said you looked away for thirty seconds at most.’

The confusion on Alex’s face revealed she hadn’t been expecting this to be his opening gambit. ‘It’s true.’

Ray shook his head, hating himself, yet unable to stop the words leaving his lips. ‘Thirty seconds from the car to the machine without looking at the car. Then twenty seconds initially until the alarm sounds, and then another fifty seconds buying your ticket. Almost two minutes where you weren’t watching our daughter.’

‘No, Ray, it couldn’t have been that long—’

‘I’ve seen the security footage! How could you be so reckless, Alex?’ He still couldn’t meet her gaze as he uttered the words, feeling her pain as much as his own.

‘I-I-I,’ she began, unable to string together the words needed to explain her actions.

‘I’m going to have you driven home,’ he continued, not prepared to listen to anything more she had to say; at least not yet. The pain burned deep in his chest, and to remain in her presence would only lead him to say something he would later regret.

‘I see you’re smoking again,’ she said bitterly, as if trying to strike back.

It was like waving a red rag at a bull. Turning, he glared at her, pointing his finger just inches from her face. ‘You have no right to judge me for anything right now.’

And with that, he climbed out, wanting to hug his wife and tell her everything would be okay, and equally wanting to berate her for losing their daughter. Lighting a second cigarette, he stalked off into the darkness.

7

‘I don’t want to go home,’ Alex growled as Owen watched her from the front of the car. ‘Let me help search for her. I’m her mother, and she needs me.’

It wasn’t Owen’s fault, he’d been told to drive her home. As far as DI Trent was concerned, they’d taken and questioned Alex’s statement, and now she was just getting in the way of their investigation.

‘Someone will call as soon as there is any news,’ Owen tried to reason, but calming highly strung women clearly wasn’t one of his strengths.

‘Wherever she is, she’ll be frightened because I’m not there. She’s never spent a night without me nearby. Even when Ray puts her to bed, I still kiss her goodnight. There hasn’t been a single night when I haven’t held her close and kissed her.’ She didn’t like the look of pity shrouding the young detective’s face.

‘What about a public appeal?’ she blurted. ‘You could put her picture on the news and tell everyone in the city to look out for her. Or the radio? Maybe I could speak to the local radio and put her description out there. Maybe someone would come forward and say they’ve seen her.’

She couldn’t keep the desperation from her voice, nor could she sit idly by and wallow anymore. A time for grieving might come eventually, but while she could still feel CarolAnne’s life force, she would keep fighting.

She was fighting a losing battle as far as Owen was concerned, though. His DI had ordered him to drive Alex home and no amount of reasoning or valid arguments would deflect him from that course of action.

‘Can I get you anything?’ Owen asked, as he pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.

Alex didn’t answer, instead staring out the window at the big brick building that had never looked so alien to her. If it wasn’t for a slight recognition, she would have said he’d brought her to somebody else’s house. With no lights on, and the curtains open, the building looked unloved and abandoned. Hadn’t it been a loving home? Carol-Anne had known she was loved by both her parents, right?

‘I could pick up a takeaway for you,’ Owen continued, watching her from the mirror. ‘Or if you need me to go to the shop, then—’

‘Thanks, I’ll be fine,’ Alex replied, avoiding eye contact. She was determined not to cry in front of him. The rest of the journey home had been filled with awkward silence; awkward because she didn’t feel like engaging, and he clearly hadn’t known what to say to someone experiencing a living grief.

She clamped her eyes shut as her fingers brushed against the door handle, but they refused to coil around it, her body fighting against going in and her worst fears being realized. Even though Ray had already confirmed Carol-Anne wasn’t at home, to see it with her own eyes would be to finally admit that her daughter was gone, maybe never to return, and the weight of that would crush her soul.

‘Is there anybody I can call to be with you?’ Owen asked.

With no brothers or sisters, Alex’s circle of friends had dwindled since she’d given up work to be a full-time mum, and although her social media feeds listed dozens of ‘friends’, there was no one she would want to see now. Sophie was her closest friend these days; even so, she didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of Alex’s current emotional state.

She shook her head, forcing her fingers around the plastic handle.

‘I think DI Trent said she’s assigning a Family Liaison Officer to support you. I can wait until she arrives if you’d like?’

There was desperation in his voice, but it suited her best to decline the offer, much to Owen’s evident relief. Pushing the door open, she stepped out into the cool and damp air. The rain had stopped and the atmosphere made it clear a reprisal could be imminent at any time. Reaching into her handbag she removed her house key, grimacing at the ‘World’s Best Mum’ key ring that dangled between her fingers. It was all she could do to stop herself tearing it off and throwing it to the gutter.

Owen was still in the car, waiting for her to enter, so as she pushed the door open, she waved without looking, then pushed the door closed with her bottom before crumpling to the floor, her head in her hands.

She couldn’t have been there for more than a few minutes when there was a gentle knocking at the door. Had Owen heard her wailing and come to check on her? That was the last thing she needed: the pitying look of her husband’s colleague.

Or maybe Ray had finally come to his senses and had come home to offer the support she needed. Wiping her face with the backs of her hands, she forced herself up and took several deep breaths to compose herself, before pulling the door open.

‘Oh you are home,’ the woman on the doorstep said cheerily, clutching a bottle of white wine. ‘I wasn’t sure as your car isn’t in the drive and all the lights are off. Have you just got home?’

Alex frowned at her friend. ‘Sophie? What are you …?’

Sophie’s puzzled expression mirrored Alex’s. ‘It’s Tuesday night? You said Ray was going out to play squash and I should come over for a girly catch-up. Sorry, am I too early? You did say come after seven.’

The memory fired to the front of Alex’s mind. ‘It’s Wednesday.’

Alex studied Sophie’s face. Her elfin-like bob curled at the fringe, and despite the bright choice of eye shadow, she wore little other make-up to accentuate her high cheekbones and silky-smooth skin.

‘Yes, it’s Wednesday, silly! Oh, and before you ask I had a text from Noemi, and – surprise, surprise – she can’t make it. That woman is such a flake. For someone who works in IT, she is so disorganized.’ Sophie continued into the house, oblivious to the pained expression on Alex’s face. ‘I would understand if she had children or a man in her life, but once again she’s bailed at the last minute.’ Sophie paused when she saw Alex was still by the door. ‘Don’t tell me you forgot! Have you made other plans?’

‘No, not exactly, it’s just …’

Sophie was already through to the living room, turning on the main light and looking around, pausing when her eyes fell on Alex’s swollen face still sheltered by the front door. ‘Oh gosh, what’s happened? Are you all right?’

How could Alex begin to explain the magnitude of what had happened that afternoon? They’d been friends for two years, since Alex and Ray had moved in next door to her. As a single woman with little responsibility other than her lease, how would Sophie understand the torment?

‘Is it Ray?’ she pressed. ‘Has something happened? You can tell me, sweetie. You know I’m discreet.’

Alex allowed Sophie to lead her through to the living room; it didn’t feel like home as she sank into the armchair. Carol-Anne’s scent still filled the room, and for a moment Alex allowed herself to pretend none of the last few hours had occurred.

Sophie reappeared a moment later with two large glasses and the bottle of wine she’d brought over. Pouring a generous measure into each, she handed one of the glasses to Alex. ‘Take your time, sweetie, I’m not going anywhere.’

Alex took a sip from her glass, before taking a much larger gulp, almost draining the contents. It tasted crisp and dry, and for the first time that evening, the weight of events lifted a fraction as the alcohol numbed the pain.

‘Someone’s taken Carol-Anne,’ she said, in one quick breath, hoping that admitting the truth would be less painful if spoken quickly, like removing a plaster.

Sophie’s mouth dropped, as deep crevices sank in her forehead. ‘I … what do you mean? Ray’s taken Carol-Anne?’

Alex took a deep breath. ‘I was parked in town; one minute she was strapped into my car, and the next …’

Sophie gasped, her eyes widening, the shock of the words hitting home. ‘Oh, sweetie, I don’t know what to say.’

Alex lowered her near empty glass to the table. Alcohol wasn’t the answer. She needed to keep her wits about her, and if the police needed to speak to her urgently, she didn’t want her breath smelling of wine.

Sophie took a nervous sip of her own drink. ‘I’m so sorry, Alex. What have the police said? I’m sure they’ll find her. Whatever you need in the meantime just say.’

This was precisely why Alex hadn’t wanted to inform her. Sophie was a sweet girl, and not the sort of person you’d rely on in a crisis. She was younger, and a free spirit, not someone who worried about a career, a family, the trappings of a regular life. They were polar opposites in terms of aspirations, and that was probably why they got on so well. That, and the fact that Alex had supported Sophie when a previous relationship had turned sour.

Sophie was perching awkwardly on the edge of the sofa, not knowing where to look or what to say. It would have been kinder to allow her to slip away, and although originally Alex had wanted to be left alone, the presence of someone – anyone – in her home would distract her from the silent reminder that Carol-Anne wasn’t home.

She didn’t expect to see Ray anytime soon. He would stay at the crime scene until he was forced to leave. Either that or he would be seeking solace in someone else’s company. Although she had no proof that he had been seeing someone behind her back, the distance between them was too vast to ignore.

‘What’s with the suit?’ Sophie suddenly asked, her attempt at small talk showing again how ill-equipped she was to deal with such an awful situation.

Alex stared down at the damp clothing, which she’d picked out especially for today’s interview. She’d woken with such high hopes this morning; it now felt like a lifetime away.

‘I should probably get changed,’ she admitted.

And that was Sophie’s trigger to spring into action. ‘You sit still, and I’ll grab your pyjamas and dressing gown.’

Alex didn’t argue, knowing Sophie would have done anything to escape the tension in the room. And as silence once again returned to the house, Alex found herself staring at the large print of Carol-Anne on the wall above the television. The photo shoot had been a present from Ray’s sister and husband. The photographer had done such a good job of capturing CarolAnne’s sweet, glowing innocence. And as Alex studied each line of her daughter’s face, she made a silent vow that she would get her back, whatever it took.

8

The area immediately surrounding Alex’s grey hatchback had now been covered with a tent to keep it out of sight of curious bystanders, but more importantly to protect the evidence it contained from being washed away by the elements. A large mobile generator whirred away in the background, powering the temporary brilliant white lights that had been erected and pointed at the scene as the technicians continued to examine and collect samples from the surrounding area.

The sky overhead was pitch-black, the moon hidden somewhere behind the thick blanket of clouds. At least the rain was holding off for now.

Ray finished the last of the cigarettes Owen had given him and scrunched up the packet, tempted to throw it into the gutter, but conscious that an eagle-eyed technician would probably take it back to the lab for later examination.

He was standing between the inner and outer cordoned areas. An area of ten cars either side of where the tent was stretched over the hatchback marked the width of the inner cordon – the area where the technicians’ focus was – while the depth stretched almost to the edge of the car park. The residential street where the car park’s entrance and exit stood had been taped off, with a uniformed officer standing guard at both ends, allowing access only to residents who could provide documentation showing they lived there. Several residents had been watching the scene unfold from the safety of their windows; free entertainment for the curious mind.

Ray hated waiting for news – he felt so useless since DI Trent had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want him anywhere near her investigation. It wasn’t personal discrimination – he understood the rules – but who better to have on the team than someone who knew the victim so well?

His phone vibrated, and he allowed himself the briefest smile when he saw who it was from, before the guilt took over. He deleted the message – as he always did – and this time didn’t reply. It was important to keep his mind focused on the job at hand.

‘What are you still doing here, Ray?’ Trent called out, ducking beneath the inner cordon and heading over to him. ‘I asked you to go home and wait for our call. I can’t have you anywhere near the crime scene. Please don’t make me have you escorted from here.’

He pulled the overcoat tighter around his midriff. ‘Please, ma’am, I don’t want to interfere or slow you down, I just want to stay close by to react when there’s a break. I swear you won’t even know I’m here.’

‘The rules are there for good reason, Ray, as well you know.’ She softened her tone. ‘I understand that you want to help, and if it wasn’t for your close involvement there’s nobody I’d rather have by my side, but it isn’t possible. I have assigned a Family Liaison Officer who’ll help keep you informed. Please just go home and await my call.’

‘I could be useful, ma’am. I’ll go out of my mind with worry if I go home. Let me chase down some leads. Anything? I don’t care how mundane it is, I’ll do it. What about searching for any possible dashcams that might have captured something? Please?’

She reached out and rubbed his arm. ‘You know I can’t. We have all available resources searching the properties near to your home, canvassing for witnesses, and searching for Carol-Anne.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through and how you’re feeling, and you know we’re good at what we do. And because you’re so well-liked in the team, you know everyone will give a hundred per cent to get little Carol-Anne back to you and Alex.’

She steered him towards the outer cordon, and gave the uniformed officer there strict instructions not to allow him back within the area.

‘I’ll call as soon as we have something,’ she called after him, but he was no longer listening, stalking off to a nearby off-licence to buy more cigarettes and a small bottle of vodka.

If he had to go home and try not to think about his daughter’s peril, then he couldn’t do it sober. As he unscrewed the cap, though, and moved to put it against his lips, he had a fresh idea, and quickly resealed and pocketed the bottle.

Any detective worth his salt knows who the key figures in the city are: the people who exercise control over large-scale criminal enterprises. One such figure in Southampton was Gianni Demetrios, the product of a Greek father and Italian mother, raised in the UK but with strong family connections in his parents’ countries of birth. A self-professed crime lord, he made it his business to know everybody else’s; no major activities occurred in Southampton without his prior approval.

Like most men in his position, Demetrios liked to create the impression that he was just an honest businessman trying to scrape together a living. And among his less-than-savoury businesses, he did indeed run several above-the-counter companies, paying his taxes and providing pension benefits to his employees. The rumours about Demetrios’s wider interests were well known to every detective in Hampshire Constabulary. The trouble with rumours is they’re worth nothing in court. Which is why Demetrios continued to run his operation from the comfort of the outside world, rather than behind bars.

Most evenings Demetrios could be found sitting behind three feet of mahogany, watching as the hard-working residents of Southampton gambled their wages in his casino. If anyone could provide alternative insight into what might have happened to Carol-Anne, it was Demetrios; which is why Ray was now sitting behind the wheel of his car staring up at the brightly fronted building that welcomed gamblers of all varieties to bet against the house.

Two large bouncers with shaved heads – one black with thick arms, and the other EasternEuropean-looking – were checking memberships at the main door as Ray approached.

‘It’s a members-only club, pal,’ the larger of the men said, sticking out an arm to block Ray’s approach to the door.

Ray eyed him cautiously. With a good six inches height advantage, it didn’t look like he’d have too much trouble flattening Ray.

‘I’m here to see your boss,’ Ray said, as he pulled out his police identification and held it aloft for both to see.

‘You got a warrant?’ the bouncer fired back, not even bothering to look at the credentials.

‘It’s not official business,’ Ray countered, puffing out his chest as much as he could and pushing himself up on his toes to reduce the height difference. ‘I don’t want any trouble. Can you just ask Mr Demetrios whether he will see me? It won’t take long.’

The black guard nodded for his colleague to make the call, and peeling away, the call was placed, leaving Ray and the larger man where they were.

He eventually returned and led Ray in through the doors, past the cloakroom and past the well-dressed members squealing in equal measures of despair and excitement as they won and lost their bets.

The lift carriage deposited them on the top floor of the building, where Ray was led through two solid oak doors with gilded door handles.

‘Mr Demetrios said you should wait here and he will be along shortly,’ the bouncer said, indicating the large leather sofa against the far wall. ‘I’ll be just outside in case there’s any trouble.’

A moment later, two other doors opened and in walked the olive-skinned, dark-haired businessman, resembling a young Al Pacino in The Godfather.

‘It’s Detective Sergeant Granger, isn’t it?’ Demetrios asked, extending a wary hand as he joined Ray by the sofa.

Ray looked at the hand, before reluctantly shaking it. Ray wasn’t the sort to go cap in hand to anyone, let alone an individual with Demetrios’s shady background, but formalities had to be observed in such quarters. ‘Thank you for seeing me.’

‘I’m always happy to make time for the upstanding law enforcers of our fair city,’ Demetrios purred, his coal-coloured curls slicked back. ‘What is it I can do for you?’

Ray was taking a huge risk being anywhere near Demetrios’s casino; desperate times called for desperate measures. He would worry about the fallout once Carol-Anne was back home and safe.

‘I need information,’ Ray began carefully, conscious that Demetrios was the sort of snake who would probably be recording every word of their exchange. ‘You know people, and I need to know the name of the person or persons who have abducted my daughter.’ The words cut his heart to ribbons; it was all he could do to keep himself upright as his knees buckled under the weight of expectation.

It was hard to tell if the look of confusion on Demetrios’s face was as a result of Ray’s appearance or the words he’d spoken. ‘I’m sorry about your loss, but I’m afraid I really have no idea—’

‘Cut the crap!’ Ray barked before he could stop himself. ‘Nobody would sanction something like this around here without your say-so. Was it someone I locked up? Someone looking for revenge? Going after me is one thing, but to snatch my daughter, it’s … give me a name!’

Demetrios took off quickly, moving back through the doors he’d emerged from, ushering Ray to follow him. Lifting a framed photograph from the corner of the desk, he showed it to Ray. ‘This is my daughter Gabriella. She’s ten now, and lives with her mother and grandparents in Sicily. I miss her every day. I swear on her life, I have no idea who would make a move against you. I would never be involved in something so cruel.’

Ray examined his face, looking for any twitch or hint of deceit. Finding none, his heart sank. ‘Then can you find out who would do it? She’s only two and I’m terrified that …’ He couldn’t finish the sentence, as he struggled to keep his composure. ‘I will do anything to get her back. Any amount of money, I’ll pay it. I just want my daughter back.’

And in that moment, their conflicting backgrounds were forgotten about as they shared the pain and joy of paternity.

‘Leave it with me, detective. I will see what I can find out. And then maybe one day in the future, you can return the favour.’ There was a momentary glint in his eyes as he spoke, but it was gone seconds later. He pressed a buzzer somewhere beneath his desk, and the bouncer returned and led Ray away by the arm.

9

The sound of urgent banging woke Alex from the few disrupted hours of slumber she’d managed on the sofa when her hours of impatient pacing had yielded no news. Ray’s keys weren’t in their usual spot suggesting he’d never made it home, and as she reached for her phone to check for any news on Carol-Anne, her heart sank to find no messages or missed calls. He may not have verbally blamed her, yet his actions were speaking far louder.

Further banging quickly lifted the fog of drowsiness, and she raced to the front door, yesterday’s suit creased and hanging from her aching body. As she opened the door to see a tall woman in a long skirt and grey cardigan holding her identification aloft, the hope of seeing Carol-Anne bounding towards her faded.

‘I’m PC Isla Murphy,’ the woman in the cardigan said, her silhouette framed by the early morning light. ‘I’m your assigned Family Liaison Officer. You were expecting me, weren’t you? DI Trent said she would phone ahead and tell you I was coming.’

Alex strained her neck to look beyond the woman for any sign of her daughter, but finding an empty and lifeless street, she stepped to one side. ‘You’d better come in,’ she said, allowing Isla to enter before closing the door. ‘Is there any news?’

Isla headed into the kitchen, making a beeline for the kettle and promptly filling it. ‘Tea? Coffee?’

‘Tea,’ Alex said, subconsciously biting at her nails, oblivious that she was chipping yesterday’s coat of polish.

‘Where would I find that? And mugs?’

Alex pointed to the cupboard hanging above the kettle’s stand on the counter.

Isla removed two fresh mugs, depositing teabags in each. ‘Do you take milk and sugar?’

‘Just milk,’ Alex replied, not one who enjoyed being fussed over, yet desperate to keep her only contact with the investigation onside.

‘Have you had breakfast yet?’ Isla asked, while waiting for the kettle to boil.

‘I’m not hungry,’ Alex replied, shaking her head. ‘Please, just tell me what’s happening. Does DI Trent have any new leads? Have they worked out who took my daughter yet? Please, I need something.’

Isla cocked her head sympathetically. ‘I have nothing new I can tell you yet,’ she said. ‘I am due to have a check-in call with Detective Inspector Trent in the next hour, and then hopefully I will be able to provide you with an update. In the meantime, we should get you some breakfast. It’s important to take care of yourself during situations like this. I’ve seen firsthand how the stress takes a grip, and you need to stay strong for your daughter’s sake. There’s no knowing when she is going to need you again, and you’ll be no use to her if you’re exhausted. In my experience the best thing you can do to help us is to eat three square meals per day, get eight hours’ sleep and keep yourself well-hydrated.’

There was something so familiar about Isla. Standing at over six feet tall, her grey hair was scraped back over her head and held in a bun with a grip. The cardigan was the same shade of grey as her hair, and the skin around her face and neck was so pale she looked washed out; like someone had plucked a character from a black-and-white movie and deposited her in a Technicolor universe. Facially she couldn’t have been much older than her late-fifties, but her plain clothes and dour attitude reminded Alex of an old headmistress.

‘I’ll fix you some toast,’ Isla continued, lifting the lid of the bread bin. ‘Butter and jam?’

‘In the fridge,’ Alex said, nodding at the unit in the corner behind the door.

‘I hear your husband is in the force, is that right?’

‘He’s a detective sergeant in Trent’s team. You don’t know him then?’

‘Not personally. Southampton isn’t my regular patch. I’m usually based on the Isle of Wight, but DI Trent requested me specifically to come and be with you.’

‘Why?’

‘I like to think it’s because I’m good at my job,’ Isla said as she dropped two slices of bread into the toaster. ‘I’m here for whatever you need for as long as this takes, Alex. I’m not a spy, as some families choose to believe. I’m here to keep you informed of the investigation’s progress, to answer any of your questions, and to shield you from as much of the stress and drama as I can.’

Isla turned away to make the tea, placing the mug on the breakfast bar in front of Alex when it was ready. When the toast popped up, she spread the butter and jam ferociously, handing the plate over.

Alex dutifully took a bite of the toast, struggling to generate enough saliva to swallow.

‘How did you sleep last night?’ Isla asked, brushing a stray hair from her face.

‘Hardly at all,’ Alex admitted. She wasn’t one who easily shared with strangers, yet Isla struck her as someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

‘That’s to be expected. It might be an idea to get your head down for a nap later on this morning or early afternoon. There’s no knowing how long or short the investigation will be, and I should warn you there will be a lot of hanging around waiting for updates. I will do everything in my power to keep you as well informed as I can, and if there is anything specific you want me to ask the investigation team, please tell me and I will make a note of it.’

Alex wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to her next question, but asked anyway. ‘Have you worked on any child abduction cases before?’

Isla studied her face, as she looked for the right words. ‘I have, and before you ask me how many of those cases resulted in the safe return of the child, you should know that no two cases are ever the same. My track record as a Family Liaison Officer has absolutely no bearing on how your situation will turn out.’

‘How many ended well?’

‘I told you, it doesn’t matter; it has no bearing on—’

‘How many?’ Alex interrupted, fixing her with a firm stare.

Isla sighed. ‘Okay, in the interest of establishing a circle of honesty with you, I will answer your question, but I cannot stress enough that you should not read anything – either positive or negative – into it.’ She paused. ‘I have been liaison in five separate child abduction cases, and in four of those, the child was safely returned.’

Alex couldn’t prevent the trace of a smile breaking out across her face.

‘You need to understand that none of the five cases bore any of the hallmarks of yours,’ Isla cautioned. ‘In those successful cases, we identified the perpetrator as a relative or family friend, and the circumstances surrounding the holding of those children were not as complex as what occurred yesterday.’

‘You got them back?’

‘I didn’t personally, but the investigating team did manage to reunite the child with the parent.’

‘And the fifth?’ Alex interrupted. ‘What happened with the one who didn’t make it home?’

Isla’s forehead tightened. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I just want to know what to expect.’

‘There’s no way to know what to expect. Every missing child case is different.’

‘What happened to the child?’

Isla sighed again, raising her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I’m not at liberty to—’

‘Please just tell me!’

‘He died,’ Isla sighed, and the heavyset frown revealed she instantly regretted it.

Alex wasn’t prepared for the answer, and had to steady herself on the stool. ‘What happened to him?’

‘I’ve already said too much. I will repeat that what happened then was totally different to what you are going through. You need to remain positive. The police will do everything they can to find your daughter.’

Alex fought against the nausea building in her stomach, pushing the remains of the toast to one side. ‘I’m going to take a shower and get dressed. I want you to interrupt me the second you hear something.’

Isla promised she would, and then watched as Alex headed for the staircase, a mutual understanding already growing between them.

10

Tired eyes stared back at him from the large mirror above the basins. Ray wasn’t accustomed to sleeping slouched over a desk, and as he straightened and rotated his shoulders, his lower back ached from the uncomfortable position. Running the hot tap, he allowed the sink to fill with water before lowering his hands into it and splashing handfuls of warm water against his stubbly cheeks.

It didn’t bother him that he was still in yesterday’s clothes. He doubted his colleagues would comment even if they did notice. None of them would judge him, not after what had happened. Although Trent had made it clear she wouldn’t involve him in the investigation, he hoped she’d have softened her resolve overnight and might at least allow him to hang around in the office. He didn’t want to interfere, but he wanted to be the first to know the moment a break was made. Somebody would have to collect Carol-Anne from wherever she was and he couldn’t think of anyone better.

Emptying the sink, he reached into his trouser pocket and removed the spare tie he always kept in his desk drawer, slipping the pre-tied loop around his neck before straightening the knot. At least the tie would make it appear as if he had been home and changed.

Exiting the bathroom, he proceeded along the corridor to the large office the team worked out of. There was no sign of Trent, and he guessed she was probably further along the corridor setting up the Major Incident Room, where the team would operate from primarily as the investigation developed.

‘Ray?’ DC Owen Hargrove said as he approached, a quizzical look on his face. ‘What are you doing here? I thought—’

‘What’s the latest?’ Ray quickly fired back, ignoring the question.

Owen glanced nervously around like he could sense Trent nearby. ‘I can’t … I mean, we’re not supposed to discuss the investigation with you; DI’s orders. Has she seen you here yet?’

Ray shook his head, unsurprised by Owen’s reaction. Leaning closer, Ray whispered, ‘Whatever happens, you’ll keep me in the loop, right? I’m not asking you to break any rules, just keep me updated with what’s going on. That’s all I’m asking.’

‘I can’t,’ Owen replied through gritted teeth.

‘You owe me, Owen. Okay? I won’t stitch you up; just let me know when something new breaks.’

Owen’s eyes widened as he spotted Trent approaching the two of them over Ray’s shoulder.

‘Ray, can we have a word in my office, please?’ she said calmly.

He nodded and followed her through the banks of desks to the small enclosure at the far end of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. ‘I’m ready to do whatever you need, ma’am.’

She looked at the creased shirt, crumpled suit jacket and stained tie. ‘What I need is for you to go home and wait for us to call.’

‘Please, ma’am, I’ll go stir crazy at home. You know me: I need to keep busy. I promise I won’t get in anybody’s way.’

‘I know that, Ray,’ she said empathetically. ‘My stance hasn’t changed from last night. You can’t be anywhere near what is going on for your sake as well as the sake of the rest of the team. We need to consider every angle in cases like this, and I don’t think any of the team will feel able to speak freely knowing you are nearby.’

He knew what she was implying, even if she hadn’t used the term. He’d been a detective long enough to know that Trent would have already instructed the team to pull together a list of registered sex offenders from the area so they could start checking alibis. The thought of some slime ball being anywhere near Carol-Anne made him want to pick up the chair in front of him and hurl it out of the window. And that was precisely why Trent didn’t want him anywhere near the investigation.

‘Please, ma’am, give me anything else to do. I’m not asking to work the case, but just let me be nearby. I could work from my desk here. We’ve got dozens of unsolved cases that I could slowly work through.’

She considered him silently, but he couldn’t tell if she was pondering his request or trying to find the words to let him down gently.

‘How’s Alex coping?’ she eventually asked.

He thought back to the reprimand he’d delivered in the back of the patrol car before Owen had driven her home. The guilt must have been written over his face, as Trent said, ‘Ah, I see.’

‘I’ll check on her when I go home,’ he said, lowering his eyes.

‘And how were things between the two of you before yesterday? When you were both at the car park I couldn’t help noticing frostiness.’

‘Everything’s fine,’ he lied.

She laid her palms flat on the table. ‘Take it from someone who’s been through two divorces, what I saw was far from fine. This job … it puts a strain on even the strongest of relationships. The hours can be shit, but it’s more than that. It’s the knowledge that the world is a terrifying place, and being unable to share those experiences with the ones you love for fear of dragging them into the mire.’ Her cheeks flushed as she realized she’d overstepped the mark. ‘You need each other more than ever now.’

He forced eye contact. ‘Please don’t keep me out of the picture, ma’am. I can be useful. Nobody knows my daughter better than I do. I promise not to go off half-cocked, and to work as part of the team, but please don’t leave me out in the cold.’

‘Ray, you know I don’t have a choice in the matter. It’s a massive conflict of interest to have you anywhere near the Incident Room.’

‘I can provide valuable intelligence, ma’am. Like-like-like mine and Alex’s schedules and the places we’ve been where the suspect may have first seen her.’

‘And as her father, I would expect you to provide those details to one of the investigative team, but you’re too close to this, Ray. Come on, don’t make this any harder than it already is. You’re a valuable member of my team, and I’d love your determination and experience on the case, but my hands are tied. If you push me on this, I’ll have no choice but to put you on leave until the case is closed.’ She paused and stared empathetically. ‘Of course, I don’t want to do that.’

He knew there was no point in arguing with her, and he wasn’t surprised by her stance, but Trent had always been a reasonable governor, and he had hoped to convince her of his usefulness.

‘Before you go, there’s something else I need to ask: what were you doing at Gianni Demetrios’s casino last night?’

His head snapped up and eyes widened. ‘How did you—?’

She cut him off by dropping an A4-sized colour photograph on the desk. Ray immediately recognized Demetrios’s office from the night before. He could see why Trent had concerns.

‘Where did you get this from?’

‘It was emailed to me in the early hours of this morning. It was a taunt, with the subject line, “Who polices the police?”. Do you realize how badly this reflects on me and the unit? I’ve spent two years trying to nail that son of a bitch, and now it looks like members of my team are cozying up to him.’

‘It’s just a photograph. It doesn’t mean anything.’

‘No, but it’s what it implies. What were you talking to him about?’

‘He knows the worst of the worst,’ Ray tried to explain. ‘And I thought if anybody had been planning to get back at me for something, then he might know about it, or be able to point me in the right direction.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Is that what you think happened yesterday? That someone you once banged up snatched your daughter to … what … get revenge?’

He looked at her sheepishly.

She ripped up the photograph and dropped the pieces in her waste bin. ‘I’ve seconded PC Isla Murphy to act as Family Liaison. I sent her to your place this morning and she’s messaged to say she’s made contact with Alex.’ She paused, standing and offering him a sincere look. ‘Take my advice, Ray: go home, and get yourself cleaned up. Maybe it would be better if you took a couple of days off. Spend it with Alex. Console and reassure her. She needs you now more than ever; you need each other.’ She pointed at the door – her cue that the meeting was over.

Pulling the tie back over his head, he walked to the exit. Stumbling out into the fresh air, he made his way along the road to a newsagents where he purchased a sandwich, a bottle of juice, a packet of gum and a fresh carton of cigarettes. He needed to focus. Despite Trent’s reservations, there was no way he was prepared to sit back while his daughter was still out there needing him.

11

Stepping out of the shower, Alex couldn’t ignore the overwhelming feeling of guilt sweeping through her core. How could she be acting so normally when Carol-Anne was out there, alone and in huge danger? As much as the sheer terror remained, no further tears would flow; as if she had no more tears to give. What did that mean? Had some part of her subconscious mind already given up hope that Carol-Anne would return safely home?

Taking a deep breath, she shook the thought from her mind and, wiping condensation from the mirror with the edge of her towel, she stared at the tired-looking reflection in the mirror.

How could you be so stupid? How could you turn your back on her? How could you allow someone to take her?

It still didn’t feel real. Tying a smaller towel around her wet hair, she almost expected to hear the sweet giggle coming from the bedroom next door. As she opened the bathroom door, she was only greeted by silence.

Isla had decided to dial into the team brief from her car, and Alex could see her head bobbing inside the small red car in the driveway. She could only hope that there was positive news. For a city supposedly covered in security and traffic cameras, one of them had to have captured the moment it had happened. Or the vehicle the culprit had used to make their escape.

Alex had replayed the events over and over in her mind as the hot water had thundered against her neck and shoulders. Could she have done something differently? As soon as she’d realized Carol-Anne was missing, could she have done more? She had checked the immediate vicinity, but why hadn’t she gone from car to car, looking for anyone who might have been restraining a frightened child?

Reliving the nightmare was doing nothing to ease the pain and guilt of her reckless choice. Even if her face was masking that burden, every muscle could feel it weighing her down.

Ray had yet to return any of her calls or messages. She knew his words in the back of the car had been delivered in anger, and that he had probably regretted them the moment they had spewed, yet that didn’t make them any less hurtful. Why hadn’t he come home yet? Was he chasing down a lead? Maybe it was a positive sign that he had yet to message her: maybe Trent and her team had already identified the culprit and were fast on their way to make an arrest. And maybe that was why Isla was nodding in the car.

Throwing on tracksuit bottoms and a vest top, Alex didn’t have a clue about how to spend the day. Her car was still with the police technicians, so she couldn’t go anywhere, and even if she had the car, she wasn’t sure there was anywhere she would want to go. It was at times like this that she missed her mum and dad the most. And having been an only child, she had no close family she could speak to. She probably should call Ray’s sister and tell her what had happened, but how could she even begin to explain?

As she prepared to head back downstairs, she couldn’t resist the urge to go into CarolAnne’s room, inhaling her daughter’s smell. The tiny bed was neatly made, as it had been yesterday, and each of Carol-Anne’s favourite teddies were resting against the edge of the frame.

Apart from one.

Carol-Anne had insisted on taking Ballet Bunny in the car with them. The bunny, about ten inches long, wearing a bright pink tutu, was the first toy Alex had bought when she’d learned she was expecting a girl. To Alex’s amazement, Carol-Anne had never been without it. She had tried to clean the bunny in the washing machine last year, but Carol-Anne had sobbed at the prospect. As a result, she’d chosen to handwash the bunny since then, with Carol-Anne attentively supervising the procedure.

Alex made a mental note to ensure she collected the bunny from the team scrutinizing her car. She would give the bunny an extra-careful wash, so she would be fresh and clean for when Carol-Anne returned. Taking a final look around the room at the array of photographs on the wall, Alex tried to focus on her positivity; assuming the worst would only invite negativity into their lives; she had to believe that Carol-Anne would be found, and for the first time since the incident, Alex felt a glimmer of hope.

The sound of knocking at the door indicated that Isla’s call was probably over. Galloping down the stairs, and opening the door, Alex was surprised to see Sophie on the doorstep, holding a cardboard tray of coffee cups, and a bag of fresh doughnuts.

‘Oh good, you’re up,’ Sophie said, smiling awkwardly. ‘I wanted to apologize for last night. You needed a friend and I wasn’t much help. I’m here whenever you want someone to talk to or vent at. Okay? You can call on me at any time of the day, and I’ll be there. It’s the least I can do after what you did for me before. Have you eaten yet? I brought breakfast.’

Alex stepped back and allowed her to enter. ‘Aren’t you working today?’

‘I’m not due in until this afternoon. To be honest I didn’t sleep well last night after what you told me, so I got up and went for a run to clear my head. And then I spotted the bakery on my way back and thought you might need something to keep your energy levels up.’

Alex pulled her into a grateful hug.

‘What was that for?’

‘For not telling me I’m a lousy mother who deserves everything she gets.’

Sophie handed her one of the cups. ‘What kind of friend would I be if I did that?’

Before Alex could reply, Isla appeared on the doorstep.

‘Any news?’ Alex asked hopefully.

Isla gave Sophie a cautionary look. ‘Nothing so far … the team have a number of avenues they are going to be pursuing today, which is positive. DI Trent plans to hold another briefing later this evening, so we should know more then.’

Alex introduced the two women.

‘There’s something I need to talk to you about privately, Alex,’ Isla began, giving Sophie another cautious look.

Sophie gave Alex a quick hug. ‘I’d better get out of your hair anyway. If you need anything – and I mean anything – just call me. I’m meeting Noemi at the gym, but I’m only a phone call away.’

Alex had hoped Sophie would stay, but felt awkward asking; the last thing Sophie needed was a neighbour on the verge of a nervous breakdown, particularly if she’d already made plans with Noemi.

‘DI Trent thinks it would be a good idea to make an early public appeal for information,’ Isla said when they were alone.

‘You want me to go on television?’

Isla shook her head. ‘No, we would handle it in-house at this stage: a formal statement released to various UK media outlets, a copy of Carol-Anne’s picture shared for publication in newspapers and regional news programmes. The thing is: the CCTV footage of the area isn’t great, and while the team will continue to search for any images from the surrounding area at the time Carol-Anne was taken, a public appeal might help identify potential eyewitnesses who either saw the act, or maybe can describe anyone suspicious hanging around the car park.’

‘Great. Okay. Do it,’ Alex said enthusiastically. ‘If it helps bring her back sooner, then go ahead. I’m surprised you’ve even asked for my permission.’

Isla’s nose wrinkled. ‘I have to advise you that there can be repercussions from an appeal of this nature.’

Alex frowned. ‘What kind of repercussions?’

Isla considered her next words carefully. ‘For all the benefits of social media connectivity in situations like this, trolling is still a major issue that’s hard to manage. Even if we don’t name you in the campaign, and only share Carol-Anne’s image and story, nothing stays secret forever, and these things can spread like wildfire.’

‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it? I mean if everyone is talking about Carol-Anne and sharing her picture that can only be good.’

Isla ground her teeth. ‘You need to be prepared for an almighty backlash. Given the nature of what happened yesterday, there are plenty of mothers who will empathize with what has happened, and there will also be plenty who will call you names and deride you for leaving your daughter unsupervised in that car. I’m not judging you, Alex, but others will. So, to that end, our advice is for you to delete, or at least suspend any of your social media accounts: Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, or wherever else you have a digital footprint. Such an appeal is going to thrust you firmly into the spotlight, and once it’s out there, there will be no going back.’

‘I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to get her back,’ Alex said firmly. ‘Even if it means I get lynched, we’ve got to try everything.’

Isla nodded her understanding. ‘Okay, well can I ask you to find me a recent picture of Carol-Anne that we can distribute? It should be a full-body shot if possible, and preferably something which captures her essence in your eyes. Whoever has her may be using larger clothes and hats to disguise her appearance, so we need something that would shine through disguises like that. Okay?’

Alex raced up the stairs, bursting back into Carol-Anne’s room and immediately scanning the walls for something suitable. As her eyes danced over the images, she heard a noise that chilled her bones: the unmistakeable sound of a little girl giggling.

12

The bus, packed full of antisocial children on their way to school, finally dropped Ray at the stop at the end of his road. He already had a cigarette between his lips as he stepped off the vehicle, and it was lit before his second foot hit the pavement. Public transport wasn’t his preferred method of travel, most usually bumming a lift home from Owen, but at least he’d managed to grab ten minutes’ kip before the first of the screaming and chattering groups had got on. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than being a school teacher and being subjected to six continuous hours of enthusiastic disobedience. He’d far rather spend a day sitting outside a suspect’s premises waiting for something to happen; surveillance was boring, yet peaceful.

The air felt fresh this morning, and the only clouds that remained in the bright blue sky were thin and white, offering little threat of the downpour they’d experienced yesterday. The surrounding countryside was now firmly in autumn’s grip and winter was only just around the corner. Piles of wet leaves lined the edge of every kerb, and the puddles on the road had yet to evaporate under the bright sun. A cool breeze offset any warmth of the sun’s rays.

His phone beeped to inform him of a new message.

Are we still on for tonight? I miss you x

Why had he brought this additional complication into his life? Didn’t he have enough on his plate already balancing an intensive job, a wife, and child? His guilt exploded once again as he pictured Carol-Anne; maybe if he hadn’t started the affair she would still be here. Had his behaviour indirectly led to Alex’s momentary lapse of concentration yesterday? Was this karma’s way of getting back at him?

He deleted the message without responding, telling himself that cooling things would be the right thing to do, at least until Carol-Anne was safely returned. After that, he would need to sit down with Alex and resolve their future once and for all.

He didn’t recognize the small red car parked on the driveway, but as he remained on the doorstep finishing his cigarette, he couldn’t help wondering who would choose such a vibrant colour. Stamping out the cigarette, he popped two pieces of gum into his mouth, dropping the now empty juice bottle in the recycle bin.

Opening the door, he wasn’t prepared for the sound of chattering coming from the kitchen. Poking his head around the door, he caught sight of Alex with a grey-haired woman in a matching cardigan, who had police written all over her face.

Alex rushed over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. ‘Thank God you’re home.’ She peeled away and fixed him with a stare. ‘I heard Carol-Anne giggling upstairs.’

He frowned sceptically. Of all the things he’d thought she might say, this hadn’t been one of them. He’d expected admonishment for staying out all night and for stinking of cigarettes, though neither of these things seemed to be bothering her.

‘DS Granger,’ the grey woman said, extending her hand. ‘I’m Isla Murphy. DI Trent assigned me as your Family Liaison.’

Ray shook the hand, still not able to comprehend the mixed look of excitement and horror on Alex’s face. ‘Please, call me Ray. What’s going on here?’

‘I heard her, Ray,’ Alex blurted. ‘I heard Carol-Anne’s voice in her room. I swear it!’

He raised an eyebrow at Isla.

‘Your wife believes she heard the sound of a child laughing upstairs,’ Isla confirmed.

‘Giggling,’ Alex corrected. ‘Just like Carol-Anne. I swear it was her, Ray.’

‘As I explained to your wife, it was probably a by-product of the stress she’s been under.’

‘I didn’t imagine it,’ Alex said, glaring.

‘With respect, Alex, we’ve both searched the room and there is no sign of Carol-Anne up there.’

‘I heard her,’ Alex repeated, annoyed at the exchanged glances between Isla and Ray.

Gripping her arms, Ray held Alex firmly. ‘What exactly did you hear?’ he said, his frown still heavy.

Alex took a deep breath to compose her out-of-control emotions. ‘Just now. I was upstairs in her room, and I swear to you I heard her voice, as clear as I’m speaking to you. I was standing at the foot of her bed, looking at the photographs of her on the wall when I heard it. It was like she was actually in the bed. I’m not making this up, Ray.’

He blinked several times, his detective’s mind trying to connect dots that couldn’t be there. He had to accept that one of two truths were real: either somebody had abducted Carol-Anne as Alex had claimed, or his wife really had snapped.

He’d been home and searched for Carol-Anne and she hadn’t been anywhere in the house. He froze. In the panic of rushing home from the scene yesterday afternoon he’d checked all the obvious places – the bedrooms, living room, kitchen and bathroom – but he hadn’t torn the place apart.

His heart bursting with hope, he pulled himself away from Alex and raced up the stairs, turning at the top and diving into Carol-Anne’s bedroom, stopping in the middle of the room and straining to hear anything. His heart skipped a beat as he momentarily saw Carol-Anne snuggled under her thin duvet, before his mind snapped back to focus, and he realized the bed was empty.

Alex burst into the room right behind him. ‘I was just here,’ she began, before he lifted a hand to silence her.

It was almost impossible to hear anything above the sound of his rapidly beating heart. Dropping to his knees, he searched the carpet for any kind of audio device that could have been inadvertently triggered, or a toy with the capability of making a noise like laughter, but all he found was a box of books and clothes his sister had donated to them that had belonged to her own daughter. Certainly nothing obvious that could have been mistaken for a child’s giggle. He then lifted each of the stuffed toys from around the edge of Carol-Anne’s bed; none of them made a noise as he squeezed their middles and limbs.

Climbing back to his feet he went through each of the drawers in the chest, and finally the soft bag of baby toys Alex had packed up to donate to charity. Although this bag did make a variety of noises as he lifted it, none came close to the sound Alex had described. And that’s when his eyes fell on the small open window behind the partly drawn curtains. Moving across to the window, he was about to close it when the noise of two chattering children in school uniforms stopped him.

Reaching for Alex’s hand he pulled her towards the window and pointed at the two girls in the street. ‘That’s probably all it was: kids on their way to the bus stop.’

Alex pulled her hand free of his. ‘You think I misheard? It was Carol-Anne,’ she repeated through gritted teeth.

Ray shook his head sceptically. ‘I know you want to believe that, but how could it be? We’ve all checked and she’s not in her room. Some bastard has taken her, and what you heard was your body’s way of telling you that you’re missing her. I’m sorry, Alex.’

She stormed from the room, and stomped down the stairs. Ray remained where he was, taking a final glance back around the room, disappointed that he’d allowed Alex’s imagination to let him believe that Carol-Anne was hiding somewhere in the property. To be safe he moved out to the landing, pulled down the loft ladder and, using the torch on his phone, he scoured the floor space, searching behind dusty boxes of Christmas decorations and old photograph albums. He found nothing more than silence and cobwebs.

Closing the hatch he headed back downstairs, his heart heavy at the prospect of Alex’s previous psychological issues returning en masse. Finding Isla alone in the kitchen, he nodded when she offered to put the kettle on.

‘Trent says you’re one of the best FLOs she’s worked with,’ he said to finally break the silence.

‘That’s very kind of her. She’s one of the better SIOs I’ve come across,’ Isla smiled back. ‘You couldn’t have asked for someone better to be in charge of your case.’

‘Trent said you were dialling into the morning brief; anything to share with us?’

‘It was a standard primary briefing, leads they’re going to pursue and that kind of thing. She did also say she wants your permission to appeal to the public.’

‘What did Alex say?’

‘She gave the go-ahead.’

‘Did you tell her to delete her Facebook account?’

‘I did. Standard procedure in these circumstances. You should do the same.’

He grunted. ‘I don’t have time for all that sort of thing. My digital footprint is as clean as they come.’

Isla looked as though she wanted to say something else and was holding back.

‘Spit it out, whatever it is,’ he finally said.

Closing the door, she leaned in closer, her voice barely more than a whisper. ‘You’re not going to be trouble for me, are you?’

His cheeks reddened at the implication.

‘DI Trent warned me that you aren’t likely to sit quietly and wait for my updates, and she has asked me to remind you that you are not authorized to be directly involved with this investigation. Any contact with her or the rest of your team is to be social only, and kept to a minimum. In this morning’s brief she warned everyone not to engage with you on matters pertaining to the investigation.’ She sighed. ‘Listen, I know better than anyone how hard it is to leave others to the job, but that’s precisely what you need to do. Is that clear?’

Ray didn’t answer, instead heading out of the room and stepping outside before he said something he knew he would regret.

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