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.’
‘What about it?’ Adam said.
Brennan cleared his throat. ‘As you know, the kidnapper threatened to make Molly suffer if any of the images he sends to Sarah are made public.’
‘Yeah, so?’
‘Well it pains me to have to tell you that there’s been a cock-up.’
‘What do you mean?’ Adam said, a note of alarm in his voice.
‘That first photo was released to the media before everyone got my message about holding it back. I’m so, so sorry, Adam.’
Sarah
Adam’s face was ashen as he hung up his call.
‘You won’t believe this,’ he said. ‘They’ve given that photo of Molly on the sofa to the media.’
At first, the significance of this didn’t register. But then I remembered the kidnapper’s warning and gave a frightened gasp.
‘He’s not sure how it happened,’ Adam said through clenched teeth. ‘But it’s a cock-up, and they’re now having to contact news outlets to tell them not to run it.’
His words hit me like ice water and it was all I could do not to scream.
‘Has he checked the street camera footage?’ I said. ‘What does it show?’
‘Not much apparently. The guy is holding Molly but you can’t see his face.’
‘Shit.’
‘Look, I’m going to the nick,’ Adam said. ‘I want to know how the fuck this happened and I want to see the camera footage for myself.’
‘Then I’m coming with you,’ I said.
Sergeant Palmer stepped further into the kitchen, shaking her head. ‘I really don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said. ‘You should both stay here. I’ll talk to the gaffer about having the camera sequence sent over.’
But Adam wasn’t going to be talked out of it. He nudged past her and into the hall and I followed him. I thought he would march straight up to the front door, but instead he went into the living room and switched on the television.
I stood just inside the room and watched the screen come to life. A drum was beating in my head and it felt like a large stone was crushing my chest. This latest development terrified me. The kidnapper had issued a specific threat.
She will also suffer if you or the police make any of the images public through newspapers or on the television.
I was pretty sure it wouldn’t matter to him that it was a mistake by the police. But how would he react? Would he really take it out on Molly to show us that he meant what he said and that his threats shouldn’t be ignored?
I started to think about all the ways he might hurt her, but then stopped myself because I suddenly felt as if my head would explode.
As Adam used the remote to switch between channels, I tried to concentrate on my breathing because I feared I might faint. But my lungs felt like they were squeezing shut and every breath made me shudder. I was also having to fight the effects of the sedative, which was starting to cloud my thoughts and slow me down.
Sergeant Palmer was behind me in the hallway, speaking into her phone. I assumed she was talking to Brennan, telling him that we were coming to the station. There was no way they could stop us, of course, and I didn’t think they’d dare try. It was our daughter who’d been taken. Our daughter who now faced the wrath of the kidnapper because of their bloody mistake. I swore to myself that if and when I found out who was responsible they would feel the full force of my anger.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Adam exploded. ‘They’re running it.’
By it he meant the photograph of Molly on the white sofa, which suddenly filled the TV screen.
A choking sound rushed out of me and I felt the air lock in my chest. But I stifled a scream because I wanted to hear what the news reporter was saying.
‘Fifteen-month-old Molly Mason was abducted this morning from her grandparents’ home in Streatham. Her grandmother was attacked in the process by a masked man. Molly is the daughter of two Metropolitan police officers and a huge hunt is under way to find her. The BBC understands that this photograph was sent to her mother, but it’s not yet been confirmed if a ransom is being demanded