Stephen Edger - Little Girl Gone

‘Tea,’ Alex said, subconsciously biting at her nails, oblivious that she was chipping yesterday’s coat of polish.

‘Where would I find that? And mugs?’

Alex pointed to the cupboard hanging above the kettle’s stand on the counter.

Isla removed two fresh mugs, depositing teabags in each. ‘Do you take milk and sugar?’

‘Just milk,’ Alex replied, not one who enjoyed being fussed over, yet desperate to keep her only contact with the investigation onside.

‘Have you had breakfast yet?’ Isla asked, while waiting for the kettle to boil.

‘I’m not hungry,’ Alex replied, shaking her head. ‘Please, just tell me what’s happening. Does DI Trent have any new leads? Have they worked out who took my daughter yet? Please, I need something.’

Isla cocked her head sympathetically. ‘I have nothing new I can tell you yet,’ she said. ‘I am due to have a check-in call with Detective Inspector Trent in the next hour, and then hopefully I will be able to provide you with an update. In the meantime, we should get you some breakfast. It’s important to take care of yourself during situations like this. I’ve seen firsthand how the stress takes a grip, and you need to stay strong for your daughter’s sake. There’s no knowing when she is going to need you again, and you’ll be no use to her if you’re exhausted. In my experience the best thing you can do to help us is to eat three square meals per day, get eight hours’ sleep and keep yourself well-hydrated.’

There was something so familiar about Isla. Standing at over six feet tall, her grey hair was scraped back over her head and held in a bun with a grip. The cardigan was the same shade of grey as her hair, and the skin around her face and neck was so pale she looked washed out; like someone had plucked a character from a black-and-white movie and deposited her in a Technicolor universe. Facially she couldn’t have been much older than her late-fifties, but her plain clothes and dour attitude reminded Alex of an old headmistress.

‘I’ll fix you some toast,’ Isla continued, lifting the lid of the bread bin. ‘Butter and jam?’

‘In the fridge,’ Alex said, nodding at the unit in the corner behind the door.

‘I hear your husband is in the force, is that right?’

‘He’s a detective sergeant in Trent’s team. You don’t know him then?’

‘Not personally. Southampton isn’t my regular patch. I’m usually based on the Isle of Wight, but DI Trent requested me specifically to come and be with you.’

‘Why?’

‘I like to think it’s because I’m good at my job,’ Isla said as she dropped two slices of bread into the toaster. ‘I’m here for whatever you need for as long as this takes, Alex. I’m not a spy, as some families choose to believe. I’m here to keep you informed of the investigation’s progress, to answer any of your questions, and to shield you from as much of the stress and drama as I can.’

Isla turned away to make the tea, placing the mug on the breakfast bar in front of Alex when it was ready. When the toast popped up, she spread the butter and jam ferociously, handing the plate over.

Alex dutifully took a bite of the toast, struggling to generate enough saliva to swallow.

‘How did you sleep last night?’ Isla asked, brushing a stray hair from her face.

‘Hardly at all,’ Alex admitted. She wasn’t one who easily shared with strangers, yet Isla struck her as someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

‘That’s to be expected. It might be an idea to get your head down for a nap later on this morning or early afternoon. There’s no knowing how long or short the investigation will be, and I should warn you there will be a lot of hanging around waiting for updates. I will do everything in my power to keep you as well informed as I can, and if there is anything specific you want me to ask the investigation team, please tell me and I will make a note of it.’

Alex wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to her next question, but asked anyway. ‘Have you worked on any child abduction cases before?’

Isla studied her face, as she looked for the right words. ‘I have, and before you ask me how many of those cases resulted in the safe return of the child, you should know that no two cases are ever the same. My track record as a Family Liaison Officer has absolutely no bearing on how your situation will turn out.’

‘How many ended well?’

‘I told you, it doesn’t matter; it has no bearing on—’

‘How many?’ Alex interrupted, fixing her with a firm stare.

Isla sighed. ‘Okay, in the interest of establishing a circle of honesty with you, I will answer your question, but I cannot stress enough that you should not read anything – either positive or negative – into it.’ She paused. ‘I have been liaison in five separate child abduction cases, and in four of those, the child was safely returned.’

Alex couldn’t prevent the trace of a smile breaking out across her face.

‘You need to understand that none of the five cases bore any of the hallmarks of yours,’ Isla cautioned. ‘In those successful cases, we identified the perpetrator as a relative or family friend, and the circumstances surrounding the holding of those children were not as complex as what occurred yesterday.’

‘You got them back?’

‘I didn’t personally, but the investigating team did manage to reunite the child with the parent.’

‘And the fifth?’ Alex interrupted. ‘What happened with the one who didn’t make it home?’

Isla’s forehead tightened. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I just want to know what to expect.’

‘There’s no way to know what to expect. Every missing child case is different.’

‘What happened to the child?’

Isla sighed again, raising her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I’m not at liberty to—’

‘Please just tell me!’

‘He died,’ Isla sighed, and the heavyset frown revealed she instantly regretted it.

Alex wasn’t prepared for the answer, and had to steady herself on the stool. ‘What happened to him?’

‘I’ve already said too much. I will repeat that what happened then was totally different to what you are going through. You need to remain positive. The police will do everything they can to find your daughter.’

Alex fought against the nausea building in her stomach, pushing the remains of the toast to one side. ‘I’m going to take a shower and get dressed. I want you to interrupt me the second you hear something.’

Isla promised she would, and then watched as Alex headed for the staircase, a mutual understanding already growing between them.

Tired eyes stared back at him from the large mirror above the basins. Ray wasn’t accustomed to sleeping slouched over a desk, and as he straightened and rotated his shoulders, his lower back ached from the uncomfortable position. Running the hot tap, he allowed the sink to fill with water before lowering his hands into it and splashing handfuls of warm water against his stubbly cheeks.

It didn’t bother him that he was still in yesterday’s clothes. He doubted his colleagues would comment even if they did notice. None of them would judge him, not after what had happened. Although Trent had made it clear she wouldn’t involve him in the investigation, he hoped she’d have softened her resolve overnight and might at least allow him to hang around in the office. He didn’t want to interfere, but he wanted to be the first to know the moment a break was made. Somebody would have to collect Carol-Anne from wherever she was and he couldn’t think of anyone better.

Emptying the sink, he reached into his trouser pocket and removed the spare tie he always kept in his desk drawer, slipping the pre-tied loop around his neck before straightening the knot. At least the tie would make it appear as if he had been home and changed.