***
Sally Meagan ate her muesli and drank her black coffee under the watchful eye of her golden Labrador. He knew that as soon as she was finished, she’d fetch his lead, put on her walking shoes, and they’d head out for half an hour or so. He patiently sat by her side, ears alert, eyes wide, waiting. Waiting.
The moment Sally stepped down from the stool at the breakfast table, Woody jumped up and followed her out of the room, tail wagging, tongue lolling and as excited as a child in a chocolate factory.
As usual when Sally left the house, she locked the door, looked up to the concealed camera above the entrance, and headed for the gates at the bottom of the drive. The Meagans were very security conscious and following Carl’s kidnapping they’d surrounded the property with a high wall and cameras. She entered the code on the keypad that only she and Philip knew and waited until the gates were closed behind her before setting off on her walk.
Woody was a well-behaved dog. He missed Carl so much, but he had adapted to Sally being his primary carer, his replacement owner, and he listened to her commands as she kept him on a short lead, and they walked down the quiet, narrow pavement.
It had been a long, hot summer, but as soon as August dissolved into September, it seemed that nature had decided to be begin autumn straight away. It was noticeably cooler in the area and the leaves had lost their shine. They were already beginning to die. It wouldn’t be long before they turned brown and dropped off. Sally loved the autumn; the colours, the crisp, cool smell in the air, the nights drawing in, fewer people out and about smiling and enjoying themselves. People tended to stay indoors as the weather turned. There was a sense that life was on pause until next spring.
‘Mrs Meagan?’
Sally jumped at the sound of her name. She turned around and saw a woman a few feet behind her in jeans and a sweater. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. She wore no make-up and looked unwashed and shattered, as if sleep had eluded her for weeks. She looked haunted, frightened.
Sally didn’t say anything. She had no idea who this woman was, but she obviously knew her. Woody, placid and playful, would, hopefully, come to her aid if needed.
The woman stepped forward.
‘I’m sorry to confront you like this. I hate myself for coming to see you, but I have nowhere else to go and I’m desperate.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t think …’
‘Please,’ she interrupted, again, taking another step forward. ‘Please, let me say what I’ve got to say, or I’ll never say it. I’m Linda Armitage. My nine-year-old daughter was kidnapped yesterday. The kidnappers called and said they want fifty thousand pounds. We don’t have that kind of money. We don’t have anywhere near that amount. I spent most of the night making a list of what we could sell, but I only totalled it up to around twenty thousand, if that. I need my daughter back,’ she said, wiping away tears. ‘I’m not asking you to give me the money, but I was hoping you’d lend it to me. I’ll pay you back, a little each month, with interest. I don’t know who else to turn to.’
Linda was desperate, that much was obvious. Her rambling, her tears, her knotting her fingers together were all signs of a woman on the edge.
‘I read about your daughter on Twitter last night. I’m terribly sorry for what you’re going through.’ Linda proffered a weak smile. ‘If there was anything I could do, I would.’
‘You could let me have the money,’ she said, holding out her hand as if Sally had fifty grand in her back pocket instead of a roll of poop sacks.
‘I don’t have it.’
‘The kidnappers wanted two hundred and fifty thousand for your Carl. You had that in a bag for the ransom drop. I’ve read the book.’ Linda’s face turned red with rage.
‘I know. We did that against the police’s advice. They told us not to pay the ransom. Kidnapping for ransom is a form of terrorism and the police don’t give in to terrorist demands. We went against their will and look how that turned out for us. We lost Carl.’
A tear rolled down Sally’s face and she didn’t wipe it away.
‘The worst thing you can do is pay the ransom demand.’
‘But I need my Keeley back.’ She fumbled for her phone, unlocked it and swiped through the menus until she found a photo. She held it out for Sally to see. ‘Look how beautiful she is. Look how sweet and innocent she is. Do you have any idea what may be happening to her right now?’
‘Yes, I do, because I’ve thought of the exact same things happening to Carl.’
‘I’m begging you, Mrs Meagan, as one mother to another, please, help me.’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t.’
Sally turned to walk away. She wanted to go back home. The one shred of hope she’d felt last night had been obliterated as the memory returned of walking into her home, seeing her mother dead and her son missing. It never really went away, but it was locked up, deep in the recesses of her mind. Now, the door had been flung wide open, and everything came back.
‘We’ve got your son, Sally. We want two hundred and fifty thousand pounds or we sell him to the highest bidder.’
‘We don’t have that kind of money.’
‘Let’s not play these games, Sally. Stop listening to the police and listen to me. Get the money sorted or your pretty little boy ends up in some paedo’s basement.’
‘You can’t?’ Linda screamed. ‘What do you mean, you can’t? I’ve seen the house you live in. I’ve read about all the restaurants you have and the number of staff you employ. You seemed to come up with the quarter of a million for your son easily enough, but you won’t give me fifty thousand?’
‘You need to talk to the police, Mrs Armitage,’ Sally said, walking quickly away. ‘They will advise you every step of the way. I’m sorry.’ The tears were rapidly falling. She wanted Carl back more than anything in the world. She’d sell the house, her jewellery, the restaurants, everything, but she couldn’t get caught up in someone else’s drama. She wasn’t strong enough for that.
Linda didn’t give chase. ‘You’re heartless, do you know that?’ She shouted after her. ‘You’re hurting and in pain because you didn’t get your son back, I understand that, but to put other families through the same thing when you’re in a position to help makes you one evil bitch.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly to herself as she pulled hard on Woody’s lead for him to keep up with her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.’
Chapter 9
Matilda looked at herself in the mirror in the hallway. She was looking old. A sleepless night of tossing and turning, her mind a whirl of missing children and the dark nightmare of what they were going through, had taken its toll. She had black circles beneath her eyes, more wrinkles seemed to have appeared during the hours of darkness, and it didn’t matter what she did with her short dark hair it stuck out in random places.
There was a knock on the door. She opened it to see Sian standing on the doorstep, looking in a similar state of distress.
‘The more I look at myself in the mirror, the more I see my mother staring back at me,’ Matilda said.