By that time we had even found the perfect nanny, Nicola, who was dependable, kind and happy with flexible hours. She preferred not to live in, but was always happy to stay late. We'd even offered to repay Dad for the deposit for the flat, but he refused. Danny thought that was a dig at him, but I knew better. When Dad offers a gift, that’s what it is: a gift.
I snap back to reality, back to the present. I’ve had it good. Too good. And now I’m paying for it. Someone hates me. And I can only think of one family who truly might. I sit on the stripped bed as another memory assails me, sharp and unforgiving.
It’s always like this: out of nowhere, Lila appears. And now Joel, too. Lila died on the operating table. I remember collapsing into Gil’s arms after she had pulled me off the body.
I see Lila’s face every day. Beautiful. Broken. A child destroyed by the people who were meant to love her. The policewere called, and her parents were arrested. Gil told me that I had done everything possible and that no other surgeon would have kept trying as long as I had. But I couldn’t save her.
I broke down in front of Nicola when I got home that afternoon. She didn’t flinch. She just poured wine and reminded me of every baby I had saved.
That’s when I knew we’d chosen the right person. She cared.
Does she know I’m gone? Has she seen the news?
Then it hits me: Is this about Lila?
Is it revenge?
Her parents were violent. But they’re in prison. Still, what if a family member wants payback? Or money from Daniel? Is that why I’m here?
But none of this fits with their characters. I’m not in a shack, or chained up in a basement with a bucket. I’m warm. I have food. A bed. Soap. But who kidnaps someone and keeps them in luxury? None of it makes sense.
I shove thoughts of Lila from my mind before the grief consumes me. Danny and I should be unpacking boxes in our new home. Will I ever see my son again? Feel his small body curled into mine?
Tears prick at my eyes, and I wipe them away angrily. The clock says seven thirty. There’s no way he’ll find a shop open this early.
I shower, then wrap toilet paper into a makeshift pad. It’s bulky and uncomfortable, but it’ll do for now.
Time seems to crawl by.
Eventually, it’s eight thirty, and my chest tightens.
By nine, panic has started to creep in.What if he’s not coming back? What if he’s had an accident?
I grab the phone with shaking hands, but there's nothing but the endless buzz. He must have gone to the shop. He must.
I slide to the floor. Sobs overcome me, fierce and hot. My stomach cramps and my legs ache.
‘Please,’ I whisper. ‘Please, God. Don’t let me die here.’
Chapter Seventeen
Josie
The station is buzzing when I arrive. My head is throbbing with a punishing hangover. The Alka-Seltzer I took earlier has done nothing to help.
Babs, our sharp-eyed administrator, greets me with a smirk. ‘You look like you could use a strong coffee.’
‘I could use more hours in bed,’ I say with a groan, collapsing into a chair. ‘The boys were louder than ever this morning.’
‘Kids know when to strike,’ she says, and laughs.
I push myself out of the chair and stand up. ‘I’ll make some coffee. Has Dario come in yet?’
‘He’s in interview room one. Some bloke’s van was nicked. He said to send you in when you got here.’
I make two coffees and walk into the interview room. A man in his early forties sits opposite Dario, looking uneasy.
‘Hi, I’m DS Blackford,’ I say, handing Dario his coffee.
