Little Girl Gone

by Stephen Edger

  ‘I’ll get you to give the rest of the team an overview in the next few weeks. And if any nutcase decides to rob a bank around here and take hostages, you’ll be the first one I call.’

  He mock saluted as she moved away from the desk, calling together the rest of the team. Glancing at the framed photograph on the corner of his desk, he suddenly remembered that Alex’s interview was approaching. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he typed a quick message of support and pressed send.

  He grabbed the frame and held it tight. He loved this picture: Alex with her shoulderlength brown hair was positively glowing, while Carol-Anne nestled in her arms, as they both relaxed on holiday. He could still remember taking the picture, and how proud he’d been of his little family. It was the day Alex had told him she was expecting their second child. He lowered the frame back to the desk face down; so much had happened in the six months that had passed since then, yet the pain felt just as raw as the day the sonographer had told them she couldn’t trace a heartbeat. Alex had later admitted to fearing something wasn’t right.

  Pocketing the phone, Ray locked his workstation and made his way to the group of ten forming a semicircle around the main board. Perching on one of the desks, Owen handed him his mug of tea, as Trent quietened them down.

  ‘First of all,’ Trent began, standing in front of the board allowing her to make eye contact with each of them, ‘can we welcome back DS Ray Granger from his trip to Hendon? Ray has been learning the Met’s latest negotiation techniques from an instructor who has been working in Asia and the Middle East for the past decade.’

  Ray nodded as his colleagues acknowledged his return. It seemed a bit staged, particularly as he’d only been away for a week, but it was Trent’s way of micromanaging her team.

  ‘So, when it comes round to the annual pay review, I’ll be delegating to Ray to negotiate on my behalf, and I’ll be expecting a bumper pay rise, Ray.’

  ‘They won’t know what’s hit them, ma’am,’ Ray smiled.

  The group laughed.

  ‘Onto other matters,’ Trent continued, ‘we’ve had a tip-off that a new crew are smuggling counterfeit goods through the docks. The chief super has signed off a two-week surveillance op with overtime available for those who want to be involved. It’ll mean working all hours, with a view to crashing the ring by the end of the month.

  ‘I’ll be leading the surveillance, and we’ll be working closely with our colleagues in Organised Crime to identify the main players and set up further surveillance on their activities. The potential return on this one could be in the millions, which is why it’s been sanctioned. I want names on the board by the time I finish today so I can coordinate who’s doing what over the next fortnight.’

  Ray pressed a hand to his pocket as his phone vibrated.

  ‘Everything okay, Ray?’ Trent asked.

  All eyes fell on Ray as the phone continued to vibrate in his pocket. Trent was a stickler for keeping work and personal lives separate. She acknowledged that her team all had lives outside of the office, though she didn’t like it encroaching on her time.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ Ray replied, lowering his eyes.

  ‘Right, where are we with the armed robbery at the post office in Portswood last Friday?’

  An arm shot up. ‘CCTV has four masked men making their escape in a Transit from Portswood,’ DS Jodie Crichton explained. ‘Plates are false. We tracked the vehicle as far as the M3 before we lost sight of it. Having spoken to colleagues in Dorset and Berkshire, this could just be the latest in a string of robberies. It has the hallmarks of raids in Swindon, Bournemouth and Reading. The group are heavily armed – four men and a getaway driver – and only hit post offices, focusing primarily on their foreign exchange booths. One stands watch at the main door, keeping a check on the time via a stopwatch around his neck. He seems to be the one in charge. Each time, when it gets to exactly three minutes, he signals and the rest of the group haul tail out of there. They are very efficient from what I can see, using a different van each time, always with false plates, and always abandoned and torched with no DNA or fingerprints discovered at any of the wrecks or crime scenes.’

  ‘Do the other teams have any idea who the group are?’ Trent asked.

  Crichton shook her head. ‘None, ma’am. The group are masked in all of the footage from the post offices.’

  The phone was vibrating again, and this time Ray pulled it out and dropped it into the drawer of the desk he was sitting on.

  Trent fired a look at him, before turning back to Jodie. ‘What about MOs of other crews?’

  ‘Still checking for similarities. I’ll keep you posted.’

  ‘Ray, you’ve got some free time on your hands. I want you to work with Jodie on this. Okay?’

  Ray nodded as the sound of the vibrating phone echoed quietly in the drawer.

  ‘Good. Owen, what have you got for us in terms of news on the streets?’

  Owen Hargrove stepped forward. ‘Uniform have reported a string of muggings in the precinct area of Shirley. Victims have described a tall girl, aged maybe fifteen or sixteen, with long brown hair. There’s also been three burglaries at properties in Hedge End. Can’t say for sure if they’re connected at this stage.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘The only other thing they mentioned was the release of Jack Whitchurch, ma’am: convicted sex offender. He’s been released on bail and has been relocated outside of the county; they’re wary of reprisals, and have been asked to keep a watch on his property. We also need to make contact with his previous victims and advise them of his release. I’ll see if uniform can do house visits.’

  ‘Okay, thank you for the update. Don’t forget, names on the board by tonight. Back to work.’

  Ray waited for the team to disperse, and in particular DI Trent, before opening the drawer and pulling out his phone. Five missed calls from Alex, and voicemail. It was unlike her to be so persistent when she knew he was working. Pocketing the phone, he headed for the exit.

  3

  Six calls and messages to Ray had yielded no results.

  Where the hell was he, and why wasn’t he answering?

  He should know that she wouldn’t keep calling unless it was an emergency.

  The rain was still heavy. She no longer cared that her hair looked like she’d just stepped out of the shower and that her eyeliner had left streaks down her cheeks. None of that mattered anymore.

  Returning to the back of the car, she opened and checked the boot for a second time. She knew it was impossible that Carol-Anne could have figured out how to lower the rear seats and crawl through to the boot, but she was fast running out of ideas about where her daughter could have gone.

  She’d never felt so scared in all her life. What if Carol-Anne had somehow managed to get out of the car, and rather than walking towards Alex had taken a wrong turn? What if a car had hit her? Or what if she was out there now, lost and alone and wondering why her Mummy had abandoned her?

  Why hadn’t she just taken Carol-Anne to the ticket machine with her? That would be the first question Ray would fire at her, and he’d be right to blame her for the moment of madness. She’d thought she was doing the right thing. She’d locked the car so Carol-Anne would be safe. And then the alarm had sounded. She hadn’t looked away for any real length of time, she was sure of that.

  She replayed the two-minute period over and over in her mind, hunting for any detail or clue that would help her see through the fog of uncertainty clouding her every thought. She was certain she had strapped the harness around Carol-Anne before they’d set off from home. She would have noticed otherwise, wouldn’t she? Even so, there was no way Carol-Anne could have figured out how to unclip the harness herself. God knew, it was struggle enough to put the damned thing on each time, how could a two-year-old manage to undo it? Why else wouldn’t she be there now? As ridiculous as it sounded, if Carol-Anne hadn’t unfastened the harness that could only mean someone else had, and Alex was doi
ng everything in her power to keep those thoughts from her mind.

  Realistically it was the most likely explanation, but to cave in to that conclusion was to invite a whole new world of pain. The urge to vomit was returning, and this time she stooped over and dry-retched.

  Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked at her phone. Ray still hadn’t replied. He’d know what to do. He was always so much more pragmatic than she was. And given his experience in the force, he’d know what steps to follow. She desperately hoped – even though deep down she knew she was kidding herself – that Ray had stopped by, seen Carol-Anne alone, and he’d been the one to take her, and that was why she couldn’t now get hold of him. He was playing some kind of twisted game; that had to be it! He hadn’t been that keen on her coming for the interview, and so rather than supporting her decision, he was retaliating in the cruellest way.

  Slamming the boot, she moved back to Carol-Anne’s window and stared in. When she had last turned to look at her daughter, there had been no sign to suggest the harness had been loose or not clipped together. She never would have considered leaving her alone in the car if she had thought there was some way Carol-Anne could have fallen from the seat.

  How could anyone else have taken her?

  She retraced her steps back to the ticket machine, playing the memory in real time. She had locked the car with the remote as she had darted through the rain. It had beeped as the alarm had cut in. And then when she’d got to the machine the alarm had sounded, meaning Carol-Anne had to have been in the car then.

  She froze halfway to the machine, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end; what if Carol-Anne hadn’t been the cause of the alarm being triggered?

  Alex had looked over at the car as the alarm had sounded. She would have noticed somebody lurking at the side of the car, wouldn’t she? And there had been no sign of anyone anywhere in the car park. She would have seen a stranger snatching her daughter, wouldn’t she?

  Having switched the alarm off, she couldn’t have been by the ticket machine for more than twenty seconds – thirty at most – and then she’d hurried back. If somebody had opened Carol-Anne’s door, unfastened the harness, closed the door and snuck away, Alex would have spotted them. There had been no colour among the drab view of cars as the rain had thundered down; she was sure of that. There had to be something else she was missing.

  Alex jumped as her phone burst into sound. ‘Oh, Ray, thank God, where have you been?’

  ‘Sorry, babe, I was in a team meeting. How’d your interview go? Do you think you got it?’

  ‘I need you, Ray. Right now! It’s Carol-Anne … she’s-she’s-she’s …’ but Alex couldn’t bring herself to say the words as her eyes filled with tears, threatening to burst at any second.

  ‘Carol-Anne. What’s wrong? Is she okay? Has something happened?’

  Alex tilted her head back, desperate not to burst the damn holding the tears in place.

  ‘Alex? What’s going on? Where are you?’

  ‘She’s gone,’ she managed, her voice barely a whisper, as the tears ran down her cheeks.

  ‘She’s what? I didn’t hear what you said. It sounded like—’

  ‘She’s gone, Ray. I think someone’s taken her. Oh God,’ she sobbed.

  ‘What do you mean someone’s taken her? Where are you, Alex?’

  ‘I came to town for my interview, and I was in the car park w-w-when …’

  ‘What car park, Alex? Tell me exactly where you are and I’ll come across straight away.’

  ‘The Woodside Road car park. Please hurry, Ray.’

  The line disconnected, and Alex buried her head in her hands, willing Ray to arrive and save her fragile mind.

  The sudden sound of a child’s laughter caused the sobbing to stop almost immediately, as she strained to hear where it was coming from. Scanning the car park once more, Alex saw a woman in a long, hooded jacket, loading something into her back seat. Setting off without a second’s thought, Alex splashed through the puddles in the uneven surface.

  The hooded woman was now fewer than twenty yards away. She was closing the rear door of her estate car, and already had a hand on the driver’s side door handle. Alex had never been much of a runner, but from somewhere deep she found the drive to move her legs quicker, almost colliding with the car’s bumper, as she tried to steady herself. The woman jumped as Alex rested both hands on the bonnet; this woman wasn’t going anywhere with her daughter.

  The woman pulled her hood down to reveal a mop of tight strawberry-blonde curls. Winding her window down, she leaned out and called to Alex. ‘Can I help you with something? Do you want my space?’

  Alex sucked in lungfuls of air, as she tried to steady her breathing. Rather than replying, she stalked around to the rear passenger door, and tried to stare through the rain-covered and misted glass. A bob of fair hair could be seen in a child seat.

  Alex pulled on the door handle, but it was locked.

  ‘Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ the woman demanded, now standing with one leg in the car and one outside. ‘Get away from my car.’

  ‘Give me my daughter back,’ Alex demanded, standing firm. ‘Open this door.’

  The woman stared back at her, puzzled. ‘I’m warning you: get away from my daughter’s door. I’ll call the police,’ she threatened holding her mobile aloft.

  ‘Good,’ Alex fired back wide-eyed with anger. ‘Call them. Then you can explain to them why you took my daughter from my car and tried to drive off with her.’

  The woman looked around the car park, as if she was expecting a film crew to appear at any moment and reveal Alex’s behaviour was all part of an elaborate practical joke. ‘I won’t tell you again: back away from my car so I can leave.’

  ‘Give me back my daughter!’

  ‘I don’t have your daughter!’ the woman screamed back. ‘That is my daughter in the car.’

  Alex stepped back uncertainly. ‘Of course you’d say that.’

  The woman’s anger boiled over. Straightening, she slammed the door behind her and stomped past Alex, opening the rear passenger door. ‘Take a look yourself!’

  Alex hurried forward, stopping only when her eyes fell on the blue eyes of the toddler staring back at her, clearly worried by the raised voices.

  Alex stared from the toddler to the angry mother.

  ‘Well? Satisfied now?’

  Alex wobbled, before falling to her knees despite the wet ground, and allowing her terror to escape in a sorrowful scream.

  The other woman closed and locked her daughter’s door, before crouching down beside Alex. ‘Are you okay, love?’

  ‘My-my-my daughter,’ Alex wailed. ‘She’s missing.’

  The woman gasped, understanding the sheer terror that had driven Alex to behave so irrationally. Suddenly all the anger was gone from her voice. ‘Missing? You poor thing. When did you last see her?’

  Alex couldn’t respond, as the sobs returned with a vengeance. The woman opened the front passenger door and manoeuvred Alex into it, before racing around and diving into her own seat.

  Offering a packet of tissues, she said, ‘Is there anything I can do? Can I call someone for you?’

  ‘My husband is on his way,’ Alex replied, through stilted breaths, accepting one of the tissues and blowing her nose, embarrassed by her outburst and accusation.

  ‘When did this happen?’

  Alex did her best to steady her breathing, but she might as well have not bothered. ‘Just now … I left her in the car while I went to get a ticket … one minute she was there, and the next …’ Her eyes stung as further tears threatened to fall.

  ‘Oh my, you poor thing. Have you called the police?’

  Alex nodded. ‘My husband’s in … I mean, my husband is a detective.’

  ‘You’re welcome to wait here until he arrives,’ the woman offered. ‘What does your daughter look like? Was she wearing a coat?’

  ‘She has blonde hair and th
e cutest face … she was wearing a bright red anorak.’

  The woman’s eyes darted left and right as she too began to search helplessly for any sign of Carol-Anne. ‘She can’t have gone far. Have you tried heading out to the main road in case she wandered off?’

  Alex shook her head.

  ‘That’s probably what’s happened,’ the woman concluded, trying to sound positive for both of their sakes. ‘I know what kids can be like. My little one wandered off in a supermarket once. Scared me to death, she did. I was searching everywhere for her, and when I returned to the trolley there she was, totally oblivious to the years she’d shaved off my life expectancy. I’m sure your daughter will turn up too. The important thing is to remain focused.’

  Alex looked up at the woman through clouded eyes. ‘I’m sorry about what I said—’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I imagine I’d have been far ruder in your situation. I’m sorry I was so abrupt with you initially.’

  ‘How old is your little one?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Eighteen months,’ the woman replied, turning and smiling at her daughter to reassure her. ‘And yours?’

  ‘Two years.’ Alex paused. ‘What kind of mother would allow her daughter to be snatched like this?’

  Neither answered the question. Alex stared back out into the rain-washed car park, her paranoia going into overdrive.

  4

  Ray was still squeezing the phone as Owen returned to his desk.

  ‘Everything okay, Ray?’

  Ray took a deep breath, trying to suppress the blizzard of questions racing through his mind. ‘Um, no … I don’t know …’

  Owen frowned at his colleague. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?’

  Ray blinked several times, his mind in limbo somewhere between reality and disbelief. ‘That was Alex … she said that someone has taken our daughter … I need to go.’

  Owen’s eyes widened at the admission. ‘Someone’s taken her? Like, as in, taken her?’

  The computer on the desk blurred as Ray tried to focus on where he was and what he needed to do next. Nausea swept through him as the room began to spin. Reaching out for his chair, he steadied himself.