“Aunty Meri told me you worked for the men who kidnapped me.”
Oh, did Aunty Meri say that? I must remember to thank her, up close and personal.
“That’s nearly right,” I say since this particular can of worms probably won’t seal itself. “Sergio—the fat one—was my boss. I worked at the skating rink.”
“She said you knew I’d be taken there.”
Suddenly, I wish Yuri hadn’t hastened off to pursue one of his dozen other avenues of employment instead of sticking with me. Having another person in the room to help sounds like the most attractive thing in the world right now.
“That’s not true,” I say, eyes frantically scanning the room for cameras. Should I wave to attract attention? Should I hope nobody comes past before I can correct whatever nonsense Meri has imprinted into her niece’s head?
“Look, I worked for Sergio for years. I opened the skating rink every morning and closed it almost every evening. Looked after the people who came there and did anything that needed to be done. I promise I had no idea you’d be at the rink until I opened the equipment shed door and found you inside.”
She sticks a thumb into her mouth and sucks like it’s the best-tasting lollipop in the world. I nibble at the edge of my thumbnail until Baxter’s frown inserts itself into my head and I snatch it away.
“You know how I’m limping at the moment,” I say to the girl since we’re clearly not going to resolve this with our thumb fixations. “I hurt my ankle just as I was closing the rink. All the lights were out when Sergio and his friend brought you inside, so they didn’t know I was still there.”
Sophia burrows farther into my lap and I cling onto her, taking just as much comfort from her as she does from me.
“If Sergio had known I was there, he would have sent me home before he brought you inside. So, me twisting my ankle was good luck, wasn’t it?”
Instead of agreeing, Sophia starts crying. I rock her back and forth for a few minutes, but it doesn’t do any good. I need help. Need someone who actually knows how children work and whether I’ve broken this one.
I struggle to my feet, still hugging the girl. Her legs clamp around my midriff as I walk towards the door, and I get a flashback of arriving here on the night of her abduction. All that’s needed is the blood and we’ll be right back where we started.
Outside the room, I wave frantically at the cameras, hoping someone somewhere is monitoring them in real time.
“Can you find the way to your daddy’s office?” I ask when a few minutes pass with no one coming to our rescue. “We could pay him a visit and see how he’s doing.”
“He doesn’t like me visiting his office,” Sophia says between snuffles. “Work time is for working.”
“But that doesn’t apply when you’re upset.”
At approaching footsteps, I turn and sigh with relief as Yuri strides towards us with an anxious expression. He holds out his arms when he’s closer and Sophia transfers her affections, to my great relief.
“I said her dad wouldn’t mind a visit since she’s not feeling great today,” I whisper, and he nods.
“That sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” he says to Sophia but she’s in too much of a state to answer. He walks along the corridor, and I scurry to keep pace with him. Turning the corner, we bump into Baxter.
“Come here, love,” he whispers, taking Sophia out of Yuri’s arms. “D’you want to come and help me for a while?”
I hang back, feeling worse than useless as she clings to him and cries. I’m still not sure how we got from reading stories to here.
As Baxter walks away, Yuri silently leads me off in the other direction. “She’ll be fine,” he mutters, the reassurance sounding like it’s just as much for his benefit as mine.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
BAXTER
Dr Alexander had warned me a slump was on its way. Still, it’s one thing to hear about it and different to experience the torture of your child crying her heart out with nothing you can do to make things better.
“You’re safe,” I whisper for the dozenth time, rubbing Sophia’s back when her chest hitches. Even the meltdowns after Alice left for good had nothing on this. Or maybe I’m misremembering because that time was too traumatic for me to track accurately.
Sophia wasn’t the only one abandoned.
When she tires herself out enough that there’s a lag between bouts of sobbing, I move to sit behind my desk, perching my daughter on my knee. “Do you want to help Daddy with his paperwork?”
She shakes her head but doesn’t move. There’s nothing much to entertain her in here unless I boot up the overhead screen and put on a movie. Then I’ll lose a day I can’t afford to let go of. There are three meets later today and if our product isn’t coordinated exactly, then there’ll be rounds of bitching and complaints from farther along the chain for the next week.
