Читать книгу The Mother: A shocking thriller about every mother’s worst fear… - Jaime Raven, Jaime Raven - Страница 13

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

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

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

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

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

Tears began to form in my eyes again and I struggled to hold them back. Who was this person and what terrible crime was he accusing me of committing against him? Sure, I had arrested lots of men during my police career, but I couldn’t imagine that any of them would have cause to seek such a brutal revenge. Not even those whose names I’d given to Brennan.

So had the kidnapper picked me at random so that he could fulfil some psychopathic fantasy? These thoughts and a million others crowded my mind.

‘Why don’t you go and lie down,’ Adam said. ‘Your boss told us he’ll call as soon as he’s seen the footage from the street camera.’

‘Lying down won’t make me feel any better,’ I said. ‘I need to be ready to go to the station if it turns out that Molly has been sighted.’

It was a glimmer of hope that I wanted to cling to, despite the voice inside my head cautioning me against it. In all likelihood it was a different child who’d been spotted, a toddler being carried somewhere by his or her father. And even if it was Molly with the man who’d snatched her, it wouldn’t necessarily be of much help – not unless he could be identified or they were seen getting into a car or entering a house.

Adam heaved himself up off the sofa and took off his jacket. The back of his shirt was soaked with sweat. He looked down at me, his face furrowed with worry, his jaw locked as he spoke.

‘I need to make some calls,’ he said. ‘Let some people know what’s going on.’

He told Sergeant Palmer that he was going into the kitchen and asked her to stay with me.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘And if there’s anything either of you need then please just ask.’

As I watched Adam walk out of the room I drew in a sharp breath and felt my ribs smart.

I dreaded the thought that he would soon leave me and go back to his own flat. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cope on my own. The despair was growing inside me like a malignant tumour and the simple act of breathing had itself become a challenge.

Everywhere I looked there was something to remind me of Molly. Her box of toys, her pink cardigan, the bag packed with her nappies, her favourite Shrek DVD, a tiny white sock poking out from beneath the cabinet where she had probably stuffed it.

A sob welled up inside me and I swallowed it down. I couldn’t allow myself to lose control. Molly needed me and I’d be next to useless if I became an emotional wreck.

‘I’ll find you, sweetheart,’ I said under my breath. ‘I promise I will find you.’

I closed my eyes and pictured her beautiful little face. I could almost feel her bouncing on my knee and it made me smile. And then I heard her infectious laughter and for a blessed moment my mind carried me back in time – away from the unbearable agony of the present.

‘She’s absolutely gorgeous,’ the midwife said as she delivered my baby into the world. ‘Have you got a name for her yet?’

‘Molly,’ I said. ‘After my late grandmother.’

‘It suits her,’ she said, wrapping the tearful little bundle of joy in a soft blanket. ‘Here you are, my dear. Meet your new daughter.’

She gently placed Molly in my arms and the love poured straight out of me. It was without doubt the most precious moment of my life, marred only by the fact that I wasn’t sharing it with her father.

Oh, the cheeky sod had asked if he could be present at the birth, but I’d said no, just as I’d said no when he’d suggested we get back together on learning that I was pregnant. I didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t love me, and even though he said he did I didn’t believe him. Things became strained between us just two years into the marriage, partly because he didn’t want children immediately and I did. But finding out about his affair with a colleague in the NCA broke my heart and made me lose all respect for him.

It had been tempting to succumb to getting back together, of course. He told me that he wanted to, and even my parents had urged me to give him another chance. And perhaps I would have if I’d believed it could work out between us. But the damage had been done and I wasn’t convinced I could ever trust him again.

Despite all that, I’d be forever grateful to him for giving me Molly, who was conceived the very last time we had sex. It was during our make-or-break holiday in Spain, just before the drink-fuelled bust-up that led to his confession of adultery.

It wasn’t a mind-blowing experience for either of us, but especially not for me because I was trying to suppress all the anger and suspicions that had been building up for weeks.

He came inside me while I was lying face down on the bed and I didn’t even bother to fake an orgasm. It was so very different from the lovemaking during those early months of the marriage when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other and I never imagined that he would ever cheat on me.

It was hard at first, coming to terms with the end of the relationship, especially after I learned that Adam continued to date the woman he’d had the affair with. Her name was Gemma and she was fifteen years younger than him. But Molly helped me through it. From the moment I discovered that she was inside my belly I knew that I didn’t need anyone else. She was all that mattered. She was my future, my life – my saviour.

My eyes snapped open and I was back in the present. My throat quivered and I had to force myself to breathe.

It felt like everything around me had been leached of colour. My body shivered and my heart beat like a jack hammer.

Sergeant Palmer stood on the other side of the room looking through the front window. I wondered fleetingly what was going on outside. Had the press turned up or were curious neighbours gathering to try to find out what was going on?

My watch told me it was three p.m. So surely the news had broken by now.

It was a wretched thought that seven hours had passed since Molly was abducted. I had no idea what was happening to her and it was killing me. Was she being fed? Given drinks? Was her nappy being changed? Was she being spoken to or ignored? Was she upset and confused?

I grabbed my phone and brought up the latest picture of Molly asleep in the cot. The thumb in her mouth. The pink pyjamas. The off-white sheet she was lying on. I wondered if she was awake now and if so whether she was calling for her mummy.

Mummy!

It was one of the few words she knew, along with cat, cuddle, bird, wow and no.

I loved it when she tried to speak. It was so cute and funny, especially when she struggled to explain what it was she wanted.

These past few months she had got so much better at communicating. At the same time, she’d become more of a handful. Throwing tantrums, refusing to sit quietly in her buggy, fussing over her food, waking up most mornings around five a.m. But it was all part of growing up and I’d embraced it, as mothers do. Not because I had no choice, but because it made me happy and proud and …

You’ll never touch or speak to her again. But you will see her grow up.

Oh God …

My blood turned cold at the prospect of never holding Molly in my arms again. Of never tucking her into her bed, of never wiping away her tears. And I couldn’t even imagine how painful it would be to be forced to watch from a distance as she grew from a toddler into a little girl. It would destroy me knowing that someone else was bringing her up.

I’d already had a taste of what it was going to be like if he carried out his threat to keep her while sending me photos and video clips. The two pictures I’d already received – of Molly sitting on the sofa and sleeping in the cot – had opened up wounds in my heart that would never be healed.

Jesus, it was all too much. I hunched forward, dropping my face into my cupped hands.

Suddenly Sergeant Palmer was leaning over me, a hand on my shoulder, telling me that she wished there was more she could do. But there wasn’t, not unless she could bring my daughter back to me.

I felt a sharp stab of fear and dread work its way under my ribs, and this was followed by a bolt of nausea that hit me hard.

And then the sound of my own voice, oddly unfamiliar.

‘I think I’m going to be sick again.’