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This book is a work of non-fiction based on the author’s experiences. In order to protect privacy, names, identifying characteristics, dialogue and details have been changed or reconstructed. HarperElement An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF First published by HarperElement 2017 FIRST EDITION © Casey Watson 2017 A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library Cover image © Tanya Gramatikova/Arcangel Images (posed by model) Cover layout © HarperCollinsPublishers 2017 Casey Watson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage 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 e-books. Find out about HarperCollins and the environment at Source ISBN: 9780008142643 Ebook Edition © May 2017 ISBN: 9780008142681 Version: 2017-04-21 Contents It was a good thing that the prison was so far away as I had more of a fight on my hands than I’d imagined. I knew there were protocols for when a child’s location was discovered, but had thought some sort of investigation would be in order as a next step, not the knee-jerk reaction I was hearing. But the evidence of my ears was incontrovertible. John Fulshaw was telling me the next step was clear – putting plans in place to remove Bella from us as soon as possible. ‘What? Why?’ I spluttered, unprepared for him taking such a radical stance. ‘No, John, please. We don’t need to do that. It was just a crank letter! It could be from anyone.’ ‘An “anyone” who just happens to know your address,’ John pointed out. ‘Come on, Casey, you know as well as I do that a carer’s information is kept strictly confidential. This could be a potentially dangerous position for you. I mean we are possibly talking about attempted murder charges here, don’t forget. This isn’t your regular “parents are fighting” situation. Not by a long shot. The stakes couldn’t be higher.’ ‘I know that,’ I conceded, the reality and gravity of the situation finally beginning to properly hit me. ‘But surely we don’t have to give Bella up just yet. Can’t we – you, someone – do a bit of digging first? See if we can find out who it might be? From the writing it looks like it could be another kid, even. Oh, please, John. Seriously. Let us hang onto her for now, please? Leaving us, particularly now, would definitely set her back.’ The line went silent for several seconds and I knew John’s mind was ticking away as he thought about the best course of action. A course of action, no doubt, that he felt would both keep me happy and all of us, myself and Mike included, safe. ‘So how do you think this happened, Casey?’ he asked me, after what seemed ages. ‘How do you think someone got hold of your address?’ I had been racking my brains with the very same question, and had come up with only one possible answer. ‘Well, it has to have come from Bella herself, obviously,’ I said. ‘Tyler has been with us long enough to know all about confidentiality, so he certainly wouldn’t have been blabbing about it at school or anywhere, though I will obviously ask him just to be sure. Not that his circle of friends and Bella’s would even overlap. No, I think Bella must have told someone, mustn’t she?’ I hadn’t mentioned that first time when it occurred to me that she might have gone on Facebook, and I didn’t now. But I also thought back to the nights when I’d allowed her on my laptop to do her homework, and immediately felt stupid for trusting that’s what she was doing. No, she’d not talked to us about any close friend up to now, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have them. Or, indeed, want to make contact with them. ‘She could have been chatting to friends online,’ I admitted sheepishly, feeling like I was in a headmaster’s office. ‘She’s not been going to school, has she? Which has obviously isolated her from social contact, so it’s probably been naïve of me to assume all she’s been doing on the laptop is visiting her school website and a bunch of educational sites. I’ve been lax is the bottom line, John. This is all my fault, probably. I began by watching her like a hawk, but you know how it is …’ I heard something like a splutter from the end of the line. ‘If you think that “all my fault” line is going to soften me up, Casey, you’re wrong,’ John said sternly. ‘And it’s certainly not your fault anyway. You’re not expected to be hovering over her shoulder every moment of every day, and she’s almost a teenager,
