Читать книгу The Mother: A shocking thriller about every mother’s worst fear… - Jaime Raven, Jaime Raven - Страница 7

Brennan took the phone from me and squinted at the photo. Then as my fellow detectives fell silent he read the text message out loud.

‘I have no idea who sent it,’ I said. ‘It’s from a blocked number. And I don’t recognise the room Molly’s in.’

Brennan lifted his eyes and pursed his lips. ‘You usually leave her with your parents, don’t you?’

I nodded. ‘That’s why this is so weird. I dropped her off earlier and Mum was going to take her to the park.’

‘And have you tried calling your mother?’

‘Of course, but there’s no answer on her mobile or on my parents’ home phone.’

I explained that my father didn’t have a mobile and that nothing like this had ever happened before.

‘Well you shouldn’t jump to conclusions,’ Brennan said. ‘We’ll help you get to the bottom of it. First thing to do is run a check on your phone to see if we can unblock the number of the caller.’

‘That’ll take time,’ I said shakily. ‘I can’t hang around. I have to go to the park and then to Mum and Dad’s.’

‘I quite understand, Sarah. In fact, I’ll come with you while your colleagues make inquiries.’

Brennan assigned two of the other detectives to the task and told another to go to the hospital to interview the stab victim in my place. Then he got me to forward the message and the photo to the office manager’s phone so that he could arrange for it to be checked out.

‘Try not to worry,’ he said, turning back to me. ‘I’m guessing this is some unfortunate misunderstanding or someone’s pathetic attempt at humour.’

The trouble was he didn’t sound convinced of that, and the knowing looks he gave the others sent a wave of adrenaline crashing through my bloodstream.

Brennan drove and I sat in the passenger seat of the pool car. The park was only a few miles from the police station in Wandsworth, and that was going to be our first stop.

It was within walking distance of my parents’ house and where my mother usually took Molly. If they weren’t there, then we’d go straight to the house.

I prayed silently to myself that I was overreacting, but it was impossible not to dwell on the worst-case scenario – that my daughter had been abducted.

It was every parent’s nightmare, and I’d had first-hand experience of the devastating consequences of such an event. During my time on the force I’d investigated seven cases where children had been kidnapped by strangers. Only four of them had been found safe and well. Two were still missing, and one six-year-old girl had been brutally raped and murdered.

But in none of those cases had the abductor sent a photograph of the child to the mother. And I hadn’t heard of it happening before. That at least gave me reason to believe that this might not be a straightforward snatch; that perhaps it was indeed some pathetic prank.

‘Try calling your mother again,’ Brennan said, as he steered the car along side streets in order to avoid the worst of the South London traffic.

I tried but it rang out and went to voicemail. I’d already left a message for her to call me and it wasn’t like my mother not to respond asap. I left another just the same and this time I told her I was desperately worried.

‘Please get back to me straight away, Mum. It’s urgent. I need to know that Molly is OK.’

I rang my parents’ landline again but still there was no answer.

My heart was in my throat as I hung up. I gulped down a breath and squeezed my eyes shut.

Oh God, please don’t let my worst fear be realised.

I opened my eyes and looked again at the photograph of Molly on the sofa. My beautiful little girl clutching a beige teddy bear that I didn’t recognise. I wanted to believe that my parents had bought it for her, but I doubted it. Molly had plenty of cuddly animals both at home and at her grandparents’, and I had always discouraged them from spoiling her with too many toys.

So who had got it for her? And who had sent me a picture of my daughter claiming she was settling into her new home? What the fuck did it mean?

‘Are you sure you have no idea where the photo was taken?’ Brennan asked me.

‘I’m positive,’ I said.

‘Then it could be the home of someone your mother knows. Maybe she went there instead of to the park.’

‘I’ve thought about that,’ I said. ‘But it doesn’t explain the creepy message or why the photo was sent.’

‘What about your ex-husband? Could he have taken Molly?’

My body stiffened. I hadn’t given any thought to Adam, but that was partly because I knew he wouldn’t dream of scaring me like this. Sure, we were divorced, but we made every effort to get along for Molly’s sake. He saw her every week as part of the custody arrangement, and as a copper himself he would know better than to do something that would cause such alarm.

I said as much to Brennan and added that I’d been to Adam’s flat in Mitcham and he did not have a white leather sofa like the one in the photo.

‘Perhaps you should call him anyway,’ Brennan said. ‘I’m sure he’d want to know what’s happening.’

‘I will, but not yet,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to worry him unnecessarily if Molly’s at the park or at home with Mum.’

It was a big if and with every passing second I was becoming more worried.

Why hadn’t my mother called me back? Why hadn’t I received another message from whoever had sent the first one?

What was I going to do if we couldn’t find Molly?

We reached the park fifteen minutes after leaving the station. It wasn’t much more than a small patch of greenery surrounded by flats and houses.

There was a children’s playground in the centre and as we pulled into the kerb I could see that it was busy. But then it usually was on a day like today with the sun beating down and not a cloud in the sky.

I jumped out of the car even before Brennan had switched off the engine. As I ran across the grass I stared intently at the playground in the hope of spotting my grey-haired mother.

But as I drew close it became evident that she wasn’t there, and I felt the panic swell up inside me.

I counted eight mums, two dads and about fifteen pre-school kids. But my own mother and daughter were not among them.

I walked around the playground and looked beyond it towards the surrounding roads, but there was no sign of them.

When Brennan caught up with me he was out of breath and struggled to speak.

‘Don’t assume the worst,’ he told me. ‘Maybe they’ve been here but are now on their way back to your parents’ place.’

‘We’ve got to go there,’ I said.

‘Is it far from here?’

I pointed. ‘About half a mile in that direction.’

‘Come on then.’

As we hurried back across the field towards the car, Brennan took out his phone and made a call that I assumed was to the station. But I couldn’t hear what he was saying because my head was filled with the sound of my own heart banging against my chest.

I couldn’t believe that this was happening. The day had started off so well. Molly, bless her, had been on her best behaviour this morning, as excited as ever at the prospect of spending time with her grandparents.

I felt tears well up in my eyes as I thought back to when I’d dropped her off. My dad had picked her up in his arms and got her to wave goodbye and blow me a kiss.

She was so sweet, the sweetest little girl. The centre of my world. I couldn’t bear the thought that she might be in danger. Or that I might never see her again. The prospect filled me with a cold, hard dread that settled in my stomach like a heavy rock.

‘You need to stay calm, Sarah,’ Brennan said, when we were back in the car.

‘That’s easy for you to say, guv,’ I replied. ‘I just don’t understand what’s going on. The photo, the message, the fact that my mother won’t answer her phone.’

He left it a beat and said, ‘I’ve just called the office and told them to circulate the photo and alert uniform. Just to be on the safe side.’

It should have reassured me but it didn’t. Instead his words brought a sob to the surface and I had to force myself not to burst out crying.

‘Take this,’ Brennan said, handing me a handkerchief he produced from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

I lowered the visor and looked at myself in the mirror. The face that stared back at me was pale and gaunt. I suddenly looked much older than my 32 years.

Tears sparkled in my eyes and my short brown hair was dishevelled from where I’d been raking my hands through it.

I dabbed at my eyes with the hanky and then used it to blow my nose.

‘You need to tell me where to go,’ Brennan said.

I cleared my throat and told him to take a left at the next junction and then the first right after that. He didn’t respond, just concentrated on the road ahead.

‘Thank you for coming here with me,’ I said. ‘I’m grateful.’

‘You don’t need to be,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t let you do this by yourself. I can imagine what you must be going through.’

Brennan, who had a grandson a similar age, had met Molly a couple of times when I’d taken her into the station. He had always been understanding of the problems faced by single mothers in the department and I’d come to view him almost as a father figure as well as my boss.

Right now I was so glad he was with me. I knew he would do whatever he could to help me find my daughter.

‘It’s the house up there on the left behind the privet hedge,’ I said.

My childhood home was a semi-detached pre-war property in a quiet, tree-lined street. My father’s ageing Mondeo wasn’t parked out front so I took that to mean that he was still at his allotment.

‘Have you got a key?’ Brennan asked.

I nodded and extracted my keys from my shoulder bag.

A short paved pathway led up to the front door and as I approached it my emotions were spinning. I didn’t bother to ring the bell, and my hand shook as I fumbled to insert the key in the lock.

As soon as the door was open I called out and stepped inside. But my heart sank when there was no response.

‘They might be in the back garden,’ Brennan said as he followed me in.

I hurried along the hallway and threw open the door to the kitchen, hoping to see or hear Molly.

Instead I was confronted by a sight that caused my stomach to give a sickening lurch.