‘It’s a surprise.’
‘Are we seeing Mummy?’
‘Yes. She’s so excited to see you. She can’t wait for you to arrive so that we can all go away together. She’s been waiting for you.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Somewhere amazing. We’re going on a holiday.’
She pulled her pyjama top over her belly button. It had ridden up when she got in the car. She shivered. ‘I’m cold.’
‘It’ll warm up in a minute, I promise.’ He turned the fan on but it blew out cold air, making her shiver more.
‘I need a wee.’
‘You’ll have to wait, sweetheart.’
‘But I can’t.’
‘You can. It’s easy. Just think of something else.’ He drove for a while and Cally watched as they left Cleevesford and everything got darker. Something didn’t feel right.
‘Where’s Daddy?’
The man slammed his hand on the steering wheel and Cally’s wide stare rested on his angry-looking face. ‘Your daddy is a bad man. He hurt your mother and for that, I can never forgive him. Only I can keep you and Mummy safe.’
‘I want Mummy.’ She began to cry and yell Mummy’s name over and over again. He had to take her home. Her mummy had to be back from her trip and so did her daddy. They were at work. Mummy teaches children and Daddy makes sure buildings are nice and safe for people to live in.
‘Cally, you have to shut up.’
‘I want Mummy.’
‘Shut the hell up.’ He slammed on the brakes, propelling her little body forward. The seat belt snapped into place and she couldn’t breathe for a few seconds as her little chest squeezed.
She caught her hand in the belt. ‘My finger hurts.’ Tears fell and her nose filled up. It wasn’t because her finger hurt that much, it was because he’d never shouted at her like that.
He unbuckled his belt and hurried around the back. ‘I’m sorry, so sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Are you okay?’
Tears now flooded Cally’s face, her mouth contorted into all shapes as she screamed and bawled. ‘I want Mummy.’ Her little hands hit his face and his shoulder. She unbuckled the seat belt and tried to escape him but he was too strong.
‘You asked for this. Little girls that don’t behave have to be punished.’ He grabbed a length of rope from the front seat and effortlessly turned her over. ‘I’ve been patient with you, all that crying and screaming, but now you have to be punished.’
She wriggled and wriggled until he tied her hands behind her back. He lifted her over his shoulder. She glanced around at the grass and mud below. The air was cold and there were no street lights, only trees. There was a smell in the air, like when her mummy peeled boiled eggs for their sandwiches or like horrible water. His finger dug into the back of her leg. She started yelling and kicking until he flung her into the boot. ‘Mummy,’ she cried.
It was no good. Mummy wasn’t coming. She was alone and scared, and he had hurt her. He’d never hurt her before and he’d never scared her either. As she yelled for Mummy and Daddy, the car began to move with a jerk and she was flung to the back of the boot, hitting her head. All she could do was weep and hope that he was telling the truth and she was going to see Mummy.
Mummy would know what to do.
Mummy always knew what to do.
FIFTY-FIVE
Gina slammed her brakes on outside Doug Latham’s house and was closely followed by another two cars. Her heart banged as she thought of the sweet little girl that she’d spoken to only a few days ago. Wyre and O’Connor were close behind and PCs Smith and Kapoor stepped out of another car. Gina’s attention was drawn to the barking lurcher in the upstairs window. Its nose kept catching on the bottom of the curtain and its paws spread out on the glass. She hurried to the door and knocked. There was no answer but the dog barked frantically.
‘We’ll go around the back, guv.’ Wyre nodded and O’Connor followed her.
Gina left the front door and stepped onto the overgrown grass. Reaching out to part the shrubs, she pricked her finger on a rose bush. ‘Damn.’ She popped it in her mouth to soothe the sting. Standing on tiptoes to see through the living room window, she peered through the miniscule slit in the curtains but she couldn’t quite see the settee through the nets. Hurrying back to the front door she knocked and lifted the letter box. ‘Doug Latham, it’s the police. Open up.’
She watched as a figure came into the hallway. All she could see were legs wearing jeans. The dog barked continuously. ‘Milo, shut up.’ He opened the door, rubbing his eyes. ‘What’s going on?’ He glanced upstairs. ‘The dog must have got trapped in the bedroom.’
