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

never seen it before,’ he said. ‘I’m absolutely sure of it.’

      He continued to stare at the photo and I saw his eyes start to glisten with tears.

      ‘The bloke who did this obviously knew that Molly would be with her grandmother,’ Brennan said. ‘It’s likely he was watching the house and waiting for your father to leave before striking. That suggests he knew that you were all locked into a routine. And it also suggests that you might know him – or them – since it’s quite possible he wasn’t acting alone.’

      It was something that hadn’t occurred to me because my head was all over the place. But now the thought that Molly had fallen prey to more than one man sent my pulse racing.

      ‘Can you think of anyone you know who’d be capable of this, Sarah?’ Brennan said. ‘Or someone you’ve seen around who was perhaps acting suspiciously?’

      I narrowed my eyes, tried to focus, but it was hopeless.

      ‘I can’t,’ I said.

      ‘Well keep thinking,’ Brennan said. ‘Something might come to you.’

      No one spoke for at least twenty seconds, and the silence threatened to become deafening. Finally Brennan said, ‘You both need to know that we’ve had no success tracing the message. It must have come from an unregistered phone that’s now switched off.’

      Adam turned to face him. ‘What time was Molly taken?’

      ‘Well according to Mrs Mason the guy arrived here at just before nine.’

      ‘And this message was received about an hour later?’

      ‘Just over. We’re checking all CCTV and road cameras within a half-mile radius. Unfortunately there aren’t any in this street or in any of those around it.’

      ‘What about the neighbours? Someone must have seen something.’

      Brennan shrugged. ‘We’re still going door-to-door, but none of those we’ve spoken to so far saw a man with a child around the time it happened.’

      Adam twisted his lower jaw, considering. Unlike me he was still able to think like a police officer, despite the shock to his system. That was impressive. My brain was far too splintered, and I was struggling to focus on anything other than Molly’s startled expression in the photograph.

      ‘What about Sarah’s mum?’ Adam said. ‘Has she been able to give you anything useful?’

      ‘I’m afraid not,’ Brennan said. ‘I’ve sent officers to the hospital to get a formal statement from her, but the kidnapper was wearing a balaclava of some sort when she answered the door. The one thing she is certain of is that it was a man and not a woman. He grabbed her and put a scarf doused in chloroform against her face. She was unconscious in seconds then woke up tied to the chair and saw that Molly was gone.’

      Brennan went on to say that a full-blown search of the immediate area was under way and that the photo of Molly on the sofa would shortly be sent to media outlets.

      ‘Reporters and television crews will soon start to descend,’ he said. ‘It’ll turn into a media circus outside for sure. So I suggest that you go home.’

      ‘I don’t want to go home,’ I said. ‘I have to be involved in this. I have to help find my daughter.’

      ‘You know that’s not going to be possible,’ Brennan said. ‘You’ve both got to step back and let us get on with it.’

      This was something I was going to find hard to accept, but I knew we’d have no choice. We were the parents of the child who had been abducted. It meant we could not be involved in the investigation. We’d just have to sit it out and pray that our colleagues got a quick result. But it wasn’t going to be easy.

      ‘Come on, Sarah,’ Adam said. ‘I’ll take you home. There’s nothing we can do here anyway.’

      Every nerve in my body was vibrating as I stood up. Despite my best efforts, my eyes began to fill with tears, but something in me resolved not to break down again.

      ‘If there’s a development, I’ll be sure to let you know straight away,’ Brennan told me.

      He walked with us to the door and said that a number of officers, including someone from family liaison, would be sent to my place to be with us.

      I knew the drill, of course. And I knew that the Met would commit a huge amount of resources to finding Molly, and to providing us with support. They would look after their own.

      But what I didn’t know was that the person who had taken my daughter would soon be making contact again.

      And sending me another photograph.

       6

      Sarah

      The drive to my duplex flat in Dulwich was akin to an out-of-body experience. It felt like I was looking down on someone who wasn’t me.

      Surely the real Sarah Mason was at work, investigating crimes, while her daughter was playing safely with her grandmother. It was inconceivable that she was actually in her ex-husband’s car fearing that she would never see their daughter again.

      The reality of the situation was almost too painful to face up to. But I knew I had to, and it was making me feel light-headed and dizzy.

      I drew some comfort at least from Adam’s presence. It meant the burden of despair could be shared between us.

      My ex had many faults, but among his strong points was an ability to hold his nerve, even in the most perilous of situations. It was something I’d discovered when we’d worked together in Lewisham CID. He was always so sure of himself, always in control. It was what made him a better than average detective.

      I turned to look at him and saw a face that was pinched and solemn, and his hands were gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles were white.

      ‘I never thought I could be this scared,’ I said, my voice breaking. ‘I can’t stop wondering what’s happened to our baby.’

      ‘We have to stay positive,’ Adam said. ‘We’ve both dealt with other parents in this position and that’s what we told them they should do.’

      ‘But that was our job. This is our life. It’s so different.’

      ‘I know. But all the more reason to be strong and to keep telling ourselves that we’ll get Molly back.’

      ‘But I can’t help thinking …’

      My breath got caught in my throat, cutting off the words. I closed my eyes and tears pressed against the lids, burning as they fought to escape.

      It was at this point that guilt reared its ugly head for the first time. I suddenly felt that I was to blame for what had happened because I hadn’t been there for my daughter. Instead, I’d been content to palm her off on my mother so that I could continue pursuing a career as a police officer.

      Now she was gone I had no choice but to accept some of the responsibility. I’d been selfish by opting to be a cop rather than a full-time mum.

      And whatever happened in the coming hours and days, it was something for which I’d never be able to forgive myself.

      My split-level flat was on the top floor of a four-storey, modern block off Lordship Lane, just a few hundred yards from Dulwich Park. It had two bedrooms, a balcony, and plenty of living space. The estate agent had described it as a ‘luxury duplex penthouse’, which made it sound posher and grander than it actually was.

      Adam and I had lived there during our three years of marriage, and it came to me as part of the divorce settlement. He kept the buy-to-let flat we owned in Mitcham, so in our case the division of assets had been fairly straightforward