The Mother. Jaime Raven
and most of those guys are probably still banged up.’
‘Well we shouldn’t assume that the kidnapper is working alone,’ Brennan said. ‘He could have an accomplice.’
Adam leant forward, a frown cutting into his forehead. ‘I just can’t believe that this is the work of a pissed-off perp,’ he said. ‘You know yourself that it’s very rare for the people who are put away to seek to get their own back against an arresting officer. They know they’ll be a prime suspect if they do. And what this bastard is threatening to do with Molly is off the chart when it comes to risk. The longer he drags it out, the more chance of getting caught.’
It had already occurred to Brennan that the kidnapper might be bluffing about holding Molly in order to torment Sarah and prolong her agony. More likely he was planning to let her go or, God forbid, kill her after a few days. But Brennan was reluctant to explore this theory with Sarah and Adam because he didn’t want to give oxygen to the thought that they would never see their daughter again.
At least if they believed that Molly’s abductor was going to keep her alive they could cling to the hope that one day she’d be returned to them.
Brennan persevered with the questions for almost an hour, delicately probing Sarah in the hope of extracting some useful information from her. But she was too distressed to concentrate and broke down twice in a paroxysm of tears.
She struggled to hold her thoughts together and found it harder still to summon up names and faces from the past.
‘There are so many,’ she kept saying. ‘For Christ’s sake, I’ve been a copper for over ten years, so I’m bound to have lots of enemies, including all those buggers who claimed they were innocent. Maybe one of their friends or relatives is convinced they were and has decided to get back at me for it.’
‘What about the perps?’ Brennan asked, as he stood up and rolled his shoulders to take out some of the stiffness. ‘Do you recall the names of any that threatened actual retribution against you?’
After thinking about it for a minute or so she remembered two offenders who had threatened her. One she collared seven years ago for smuggling hard drugs into the country from Turkey. His name was Frank Neilson, and after he was charged he told her that he would make her pay if he was eventually convicted. He was, and as far as Sarah knew he was still locked up in Belmarsh Prison.
The second man was a rapist named Edwin Sharp who attacked her with a hammer when she went to his home in Lewisham to arrest him. He said he would ‘see to her’ after he had served his sentence. That was five years ago and she had no idea if he’d been released.
‘This is a good start,’ Brennan said. ‘I’m sure that other names will come to you and we can throw them into the mix as well.’
She was a strong woman, Brennan told himself. He just hoped she’d be able to get over the initial shock quickly. He needed her to focus her mind and help them identify the kidnapper.
The words of the kidnapper convinced Brennan that Sarah probably knew who the man was and that his name was buried deep in her subconscious. If so, then surely it was only a matter of time before she managed to dredge it up.
Brennan decided to leave just as the police doctor arrived at the flat. He got to his feet and told Sarah and Adam that he wouldn’t rest until Molly had been found.
‘I know it won’t be easy, but you both need to stay strong,’ he said.
At that moment his phone rang. All eyes turned towards him expectantly and Sarah said, ‘Answer it, guv. Please. It could be news.’
He slipped the phone from his pocket and took the call. It was indeed someone from the office with an update on the case and it made him catch his breath.
A man carrying a young child had been spotted just minutes after Molly was taken. The sighting took place close to the home of Sarah’s parents in Streatham.
Even more significant was the fact that it was believed the pair had been captured on a street camera.
Sarah
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