‘No idea. He ran away from me,’ I say, wheezing. ‘I can’t see him. He’s not in the restaurant or on the boat! He must be on the dock somewhere.’
‘He’s missing?’ he says, alarmed.
‘Yes. Missing. Temporarily.’
‘Actuallymissing?’ Jackson is looking at me as though I’ve asked him to name the last three presidents of Botswana. But when he sees how worried I am, he rallies immediately. ‘Right. I’ll help you. What do you need me to do?’
His thoughtfulness tugs at my heartstrings.
‘Thank you. He’s only five years old.’ A sick feeling churns in my stomach.
‘We’ll find him,’ he says, reaching out to touch my arm. We lock eyes and I find his calm, no-nonsense voice instantly soothing. ‘I’ll alert the team. Have them on standby. What does he look like? What’s his name?’
‘Emir,’ I explain. ‘They all know what he looks like. He’s the son of the couple throwing the party. The team are in there. Meet back here in five?’
Jackson nods agreement and sprints into the restaurant while I race along the side of the marina shouting Emir’s name and checking all of the boats on one side, and the bustling bars and restaurants on the other. The crowd is beginning to thin but there’s still no sign of the boy.
A few minutes later, I double back to see Jackson racing out of the venue with a troubled look on his face. ‘I could only find Tiffany, and she is busy hosting the event with the owner of the restaurant. Where the heck is everyone? It’s like they knew I was coming and they’re hiding from me.’
Bingo. You got it in one, boss man.
‘How could they have known?’ Jackson puts his hands on his hips, eyeing me warily.
‘Doesn’t matter. We don’t have time to debate that now,’ I say. ‘Ninety-eight per cent of missing children are found within the first twenty minutes… so come on. Let’s fan out. We’ll do the left side, then the right.’
‘Sure thing,’ he says, springing into action.
‘What’s he wearing?’ Jackson sprints to match my pace as we duck and dive, checking the jet ski and boat hire kiosks lining the marina.
‘A yellow Scooby Doo T-shirt.’ I feel sick to my bones. I scan the crowd, my eyes laser-focused, up and down, side to side, taking in every detail.
‘Hey,’ Jackson yells over to me as we race around the perimeter of the marina, scanning every boat and restaurant. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll find him.’
I suddenly spot a flash of yellow. Emir is up ahead, his little body weaving in and out of the throng. ‘I think that’s him. Emir! Wait for me!’
Jackson, like lightning, is at my side.
‘Oh Jesus! Thank God! He’s over there,’ I yell, pointing over to a shisha café window. Emir is staring into it, leaning his forehead on the glass.
A tsunami of adrenaline floods my veins with relief. ‘They must sell baklava,’ I explain as we race towards him. ‘He’s obsessed with sugar. He’s become something of an addict.’Stealing jewellery to feed his habit.‘Although, that could also be my fault.’
Jackson shakes his head quizzically at me rather than reply.
‘Emir! Emir! Thank goodness you’re okay!’ I shout as we get nearer. Startled, he spins around, and much to my relief, skips happily towards me. He stops just in front of me with a questioning gaze.
I bend down to his level, pull him into a tight hug and take his hands in mine. ‘I was worried sick! I’m so sorry you thought I meant I didn’t want to look after you. I just wanted a few minutes to get changed, that’s all.’
He tilts his head. ‘I know.’
He did?
I’m still gasping for breath. ‘Never, ever run away from me again. Do you promise?’
‘I promise.’ He looks so innocent. ‘You smell very, very bad.’
I’m so relieved I’m not even going to take the hump. ‘Why did you run off like that? We were so worried.’
He glances with an air of suspicion at Jackson. ‘Who is he? Why was he worried about me?’
