The Mother. Jaime Raven

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       9

      Adam

      Adam stood in the kitchen, his back to the sink, his stomach in knots. The blood was pounding behind his eyes and his emotions were swimming.

      He had already spoken to his boss. DCI Dunlop had offered up a bunch of well-meaning platitudes and had promised that the NCA would assist in the hunt for Molly.

      ‘I’ve reassigned all of your casework,’ he’d said. ‘You just need to concentrate on getting your little girl back.’

      Now Adam paused before making another call, distracted by the sound of Sarah crying in the living room. He shared her pain and was on the brink of breaking down himself. But he fought against it because he knew that tears would blur his thoughts and make him even more helpless than he was.

      His beloved daughter had been viciously kidnapped and all he could do was wait and worry as the panic closed in around him.

      Molly, tiny and helpless, was at the mercy of a ruthless predator who was on some monstrous mission. What the bastard was intending to do was beyond belief and unless he was caught there was no telling how long it would carry on. Days? Weeks? Months? There’d be no escape from the anguish, the sheer torture of seeing images of Molly and yet not knowing where she was or who she was with.

      Adam felt a tightening in his chest, a sudden breathlessness, as his mind spiralled back to Saturday when he’d last been with his daughter.

      Sarah had been expecting him to have her all day and into Sunday morning. But he’d told her he had to work in the afternoon and could only take her to the park for a few hours. It was a shameful lie because he had simply chosen not to reveal the truth.

      Now he was consumed by a wretched guilt that was tearing him apart. How could he have been so selfish? So stupid? Molly loved being with him and he should have put her first, instead of going to that hotel in Windsor. He feared now that he would regret that decision for the rest of his life.

      He wished now that he had taken some pictures of Molly in the park, but he hadn’t bothered to. He’d been too preoccupied, thinking about what was going to happen in Windsor. Another ghastly mistake. Another thing to feel guilty about.

      He should have made the most of the weekend with his daughter. She’d been full of life, laughing hysterically as she ran across the grass, her eyes filled with wonder as she fed the ducks and chased the pigeons. Now he had to accept that he might never get to take her to the park again, or give her piggy-backs, or rock her to sleep before putting her to bed.

      He released a long breath and mashed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. Every muscle in his body was taut, and his heart was pumping blood so fast it was making him dizzy.

      He thought about what Sarah’s mother had said, how the kidnapper had suddenly turned up at the house and attacked her. He tried to picture the scene as the man snatched Molly from her high chair and carried her out of the house. She must have been terrified, and he couldn’t believe that she didn’t scream and cry.

      But where did he go from there and how did he manage to calm Molly down enough so that he could take the photo of her on the white sofa?

      This and other questions were piling up in Adam’s head.

       Why was his daughter targeted?

       What was the kidnapper’s beef with Sarah that he felt justified in meting out such a cruel punishment?

       Would he actually carry out the threat he had outlined in his text messages?

       And what were the odds on the police finding him?

      This last question reminded Adam that they still hadn’t heard from Brennan. The DCI had left the flat over an hour ago, so surely he would know by now whether Molly and the kidnapper had been caught on a street camera.

      Adam was about to call Brennan when his phone started to ring, making him jump. He looked at the caller ID and felt a shiver run through him. No way could he answer it, not with Sarah in the other room. She might suddenly burst into the kitchen to find out who was ringing, and overhear something he didn’t want her to. So he pressed his thumb against the call-end button and released a thin whistle from between his teeth.

      Then he quickly found Brennan’s number and called him. The detective answered just as the kitchen door was pushed open and Sarah walked in, her eyes wide in anticipation.

      Adam held up a hand to indicate that he was about to say something and spoke into the phone. ‘This is Adam Boyd,’ he said. ‘We want to know if you’ve checked the CCTV footage yet.’

      ‘Only just,’ Brennan replied. ‘As a matter of fact I was about to call you.’

      ‘Is Molly on it?’

      ‘She is, but sadly it’s not that helpful.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘We see the kidnapper holding Molly, but his face isn’t visible, and the sequence only lasts a few seconds. We’re now pulling in footage from various other cameras in that area.’

      ‘Shit.’

      Sarah stepped towards him, anxious to know what he was being told. Behind her, Sergeant Palmer stood in the doorway, her lips pressed into a thin line.

      ‘There’s something else you need to know,’ Brennan said. ‘It’s about the photo Sarah received of Molly sitting on a sofa.’