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

and my eyes started tearing up.

      Brennan got to his feet and came around his desk. He stood next to me and put a hand on my shoulder.

      ‘I have no idea what your religious beliefs are, Sarah,’ he said. ‘But if you do believe in God then it might help to pray like you’ve never prayed before.’

      Like a lot of police officers who are frequently exposed to the ugly realities of life, I’d always had a hard time believing in God. But that had never stopped me asking for his help.

      I’d been mouthing silent prayers ever since I’d discovered that Molly had been abducted. Such was my desperation that I refused to accept the possibility that it was a waste of time.

      ‘Please bring my baby back to me,’ I whispered to myself as we left the station. ‘And I beg you not to let that man hurt her.’

      Sergeant Palmer was waiting outside for us next to her own car and she’d be driving us home.

      Once we were settled in the back seat and she was behind the wheel, she said, ‘The DCI wants me to stay with you at the flat tonight. Would that be all right? I have an overnight bag and I’ll make myself comfortable in the living room.’

      ‘It’s not a problem,’ I said.

      ‘Thank you. What about you, Mr Boyd? Are you returning to the flat?’

      ‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘I don’t intend to go home just yet.’

      I felt a surge of relief and reached out to touch his arm.

      ‘You don’t have to stay with me,’ I said.

      ‘I know, but I want to.’

      There was a sudden clap of thunder and I realised that dark clouds were now clustered overhead. Within seconds big drops of rain were pounding the windscreen.

      ‘I’d like to go and see my parents before I go home,’ I said. ‘They’re staying with my aunt in Balham. I need to tell them about the latest message and I don’t want to do it over the phone.’

      On the short journey to Balham my phone rang four times and each time my heart leapt into my throat. But the callers were just friends and former colleagues who had heard the news about Molly. I told them I couldn’t speak to them, and it got to the point where I wished I could switch my phone off. But of course I couldn’t because I had no idea if and when the kidnapper would make contact again.

      My aunt Tessa lived with her husband Jeff in a terraced house off Balham High Road. She was four years older than my mother and had a son who lived in Australia.

      It was a solemn-faced Jeff who answered the door. He was a thin, fragile man with hollow cheeks and wispy grey hair. He immediately pulled me into an embrace.

      ‘Oh you poor darling,’ he said. ‘This is so terrible.’

      ‘How’s Mum?’ I asked him.

      ‘Come in and see. Are you by yourself?’

      ‘I’m with Adam and a police officer. They’re going to wait outside in the car.’

      It was Adam’s idea not to come in because he reckoned he would be a distraction. My parents hadn’t seen him since before the divorce and there was no telling how they’d react. My father William was a curmudgeonly 64-year-old and had vowed never to speak to Adam again.

      In the event, I didn’t think it would have been a problem. My mum and dad were far too distressed to be concerned about anyone other than their granddaughter.

      Naturally they were eager to know if there had been any news.

      ‘That’s why I came right over,’ I said. ‘The bastard has sent another message.’

      I told them what was in it and they took it badly. My mother collapsed in tears and my father kept shaking his head and telling us that he feared we would never see Molly again. It was all very upsetting and I was actually glad to leave the house. It was just after eight p.m. by then and the evening was drawing in. The rain had eased off but the air was heavy and moist.

      When we got to my flats we had to run the gauntlet of reporters and photographers again. Now there were even more of them outside the flats.

      Upstairs, Sergeant Palmer offered to make us both something to eat, but neither Adam nor I had an appetite.

      ‘I’ll have a drink, though,’ I said. ‘Something stronger than tea.’

      I told Palmer to help herself to whatever was in the fridge and went into the living room.

      ‘You sit down and I’ll pour you something,’ Adam said. ‘Is the booze still in the same place?’

      I nodded and he went to the cupboard next to the dining table.

      ‘You’ve got a bottle of whisky and half a bottle of gin,’ he said.

      ‘I’ll have whisky and make it a double.’

      I sat on the sofa feeling weak and empty. My mouth was dry and my chest was thudding. I had no intention of going to bed. What was the point when I knew I’d never be able to sleep? I had no option but to sit back and wait for news while destructive thoughts ran riot inside my head.

      As Adam handed me a glass half-filled with whisky, I asked him how long he planned to stay.

      ‘All night if that’s OK with you,’ he said.

      I just nodded.

      I fired down some whisky and felt it bite into the back of my throat. Adam poured himself a glass before switching on the TV.

      A moment later we were looking at another photo of Molly, this time one that Adam had taken a few weeks ago on his phone. It showed her in the park throwing bread to the ducks.