Jaime Raven - The Mother - A shocking thriller about every mother’s worst fear…

Where were they taken?

Who was behind the camera?

Was he doing this by himself or did he have an accomplice?

It was the job of Brennan and his team to seek out the answers, but they were making slow progress. And that worried him.

He said as much to the troops when he started to address them. He spoke slowly, his tone measured and calm.

‘In view of this latest text from the kidnapper we need to raise our game,’ he said. ‘DI Mason’s little girl has been taken by someone with an obvious grudge, and we have to assume that he’s not making empty threats when he says he’ll hurt her.’

He explained why the photo of Molly on the sofa had ended up on the BBC and several online news sites, and said he would make a point of speaking to the person or persons responsible.

‘But so far we’ve managed to keep a lid on the reason the kidnapper has given for abducting Molly,’ he went on. ‘For now that stays within these walls and I’ll come down hard on anyone who decides to leak it.’

He paused to let that sink in. He knew all twenty-five officers in the room, and on a run-of-the-mill case he’d have trusted them not to succumb to temptation. But this was no ordinary case, and the press were going to be offering big money for inside information.

Brennan waited about fifteen seconds before continuing. Then he pinned back his shoulders and said, ‘Now I want those of you who were assigned specific tasks to provide updates. But first let me reiterate what I told you earlier – that we need to handle this case just like any other. I know we all have a personal stake because of DI Mason, but we can’t allow that to cloud our judgement. We have to stay focused and we need to be objective. One serious mistake has already been made. We can’t afford for there to be any more.’

Harsh strip lights buzzed overhead as the briefing continued. But nothing Brennan heard encouraged him to believe that they were making significant headway.

DI Bill Conroy was heading up the group tasked with sifting through all the footage from the traffic and security cameras. They’d so far come up with only the one short clip that showed the kidnapper walking along Penfold Street towards Streatham High Road carrying Molly, who looked as though she was crying. But the sequence lasted just seven seconds. The kidnapper kept his head down and his face couldn’t be seen. But it was obvious to them all that they were looking at a man and not a woman. He was wearing a dark hoody and jeans and what looked like a pair of black trainers.

It seemed that Molly and the man hadn’t been picked up on any other cameras so it wasn’t known if they’d got into a vehicle or entered a house or flat.

‘We’re still trawling through the footage,’ DI Conroy said. ‘But it was a busy time of day. Plus, a couple of cameras in the area aren’t working. However, the clip tells us that the bloke didn’t have a car or van parked behind the house. Instead he chose to walk away from there carrying the baby. We know from the tape that he walked at least a few hundred yards along Oakdale Lane and Hopton Close. But beyond that he could have gone off in any number of directions.’

Another detective reported on the door-to-door inquiries.

‘Unfortunately most of the properties in the area were empty when officers called,’ he said. ‘We’re assuming the owners and tenants were at work, and most still are, so there’s a good chance they wouldn’t have seen anything. As yet, we have only one confirmed sighting of a man with a child. A woman named Tina Redgrave was returning from the school run when she spotted them in Penfold Street. But it was as she was pulling onto her driveway, so she didn’t see the guy’s face.’

Brennan wasn’t surprised. Londoners rarely noticed things that weren’t relevant to their own busy lives. This was especially true of people hurrying to and from work. They were usually listening to music, playing with their smartphones or fretting over what the day ahead held in store for them.

The team were then told that the techies hadn’t managed to trace the origin of the messages. The perp was probably switching between unregistered phones or using an anonymous text app.

‘So what do we know about the perps who DI Mason mentioned as having made threats against her?’ Brennan said.

DC Amanda Foster was across this one and Brennan noticed she was standing at the back of the room with her mobile phone to her ear. As he caught her eye she raised a hand in acknowledgement and quickly hung up.

‘Sorry, guv,’ she said, flicking a tendril of dark hair away from her face. ‘I was just getting updated.’

‘So what have you got for us?’ he asked.

She read from her notes as she spoke. ‘DI Mason gave you two names,’ she said. ‘One was the drug trafficker Frank Neilson who told her he would make her pay if he was convicted and sent down. I’m glad to say he’s still behind bars.

‘The other man was Edwin Sharp who she collared for rape five years ago. He hit DI Mason with a hammer and threatened to see to her when he got out. Well, I’ve just this second learned that he was released from jail a month ago. We have an address in Lewisham, but officers who called round there say the flat is empty. Neighbours say he only stayed there a week before moving out. We’re now trying to find out where he’s gone.’

Brennan felt his stomach tense and his spirits lift slightly.

‘That sounds promising,’ he said. ‘I think it’s fair to say we have our first suspect.’

I was in a dreadful state by the time we got to the station. It had only just turned five p.m. and already it was the longest day of my life.

The latest text from the kidnapper had hit me hard. I’d bellowed like a wounded animal and Adam had had to put an arm around me to calm me down. I dreaded to think how much more strung out I’d be if not for the sedative that was sloshing around inside me.

The fear was like razor wire inside my mind. I’d finally stopped sobbing, but now I had trouble thinking, trouble seeing.

Adam said he thought it might be best if Sergeant Palmer took me back home, but I insisted on going up with him. I needed to find out what was happening and if my colleagues were in a position to offer us any hope. If not then I was sure that the fear and uncertainty would soon engulf me.

It felt weird to be entering the building for the second time that day. This morning I’d been a very different person – upbeat and energised after a long, lazy weekend. Now I was little more than a zombie, struggling to hold on to reality as my world tilted on its axis.

Several of my colleagues approached me as we made our way up the stairs and they told me they were confident that Molly would soon be found safe and well. Others just gave me sympathetic looks, while some pointedly avoided making eye contact, presumably because they didn’t know how to react.

Brennan was waiting for us just inside the incident room. Beyond him I took in the familiar scene, detectives talking into phones and staring into computer screens. I also noticed the whiteboard with photos of Molly pinned to it. It turned my stomach to see my little girl’s face there. I’d seen scores of children’s faces over the years while working on cases they’d been involved in. Each one had been someone’s son or daughter. But it was only now that I truly realised how desperate and helpless those parents would have felt.

‘Let’s go straight to my office,’ Brennan said and steered us in that direction.

His office was small and cluttered and through the window rain clouds were now bruising the sky above South London.

Adam waited until we were all seated before he let rip. ‘How in Christ’s name did it happen?’ he yelled. ‘The kidnapper gave a clear warning. You were supposed to stop that photo being released.’