Page 101 of The Vanished

Quinn followed the DI into the room and accepted a seat.

“Would you like some tea or coffee before we begin?” the policewoman asked.

“I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”

DI Sherman set a thin folder on the table but didn’t open it. Instead she studied Quinn, as if assessing her mental state. “Max told us that he made the decision to leave.”

“He’s five.”

The policewoman smiled. “He’s very articulate and seems to have had a definite plan.”

“A plan to do what?” Quinn asked. She hadn’t expected this and was a little confused.

“Max said he got up, dressed, and left the house before sunrise. He walked down the lane and was heading towards the motorway. He was going to hitchhike to London.”

“What?” Quinn exclaimed.

“He was going to look for his dad.”

“Someone took him. They even tore the eyes from the teddy bear Max had been sleeping with.”

“Max did that,” DI Sherman said.

Quinn stared at her in disbelief. That didn’t sound like Max at all. He was such a sweet, gentle boy who suffered from separation anxiety. He would never leave on his own and walk in the dark down a deserted lane with the intention of hitchhiking to London. The very idea was mad.

“He said he was angry that you took him away from London and weren’t looking for his dad, so he was going to do it himself.”

“So ripping out the eyes was a big sod you?” Quinn asked.

“It would seem so. He was sending you a clear message. He wasn’t happy, and he didn’t care to be treated like a baby.”

“The poor boy,” Quinn said. She had tried to keep him safe and prevent him from worrying, but it seemed he hadn’t trusted her or believed her when she’d said that all would be well. He’d needed to take action, since he’d felt no one was doing anything to help him. “I feel awful,” she admitted.

“You did nothing wrong,” the policewoman said. “But some things are not easy to explain to a five-year-old. Sometimes adults let children down without meaning to. And sometimes they pursue their own agenda without considering the feelings of their kids.”

Quinn realized she was speaking about Logan and was about to protest, but something stopped her. She needed to tread carefully, since the psychologist had the power to have Max removed from their care and placed in a foster home.

“So, the man he was with picked him up?” she asked. She refused to contemplate what could have happened to Max if the police hadn’t been able to retrieve him. Unspeakable things were done to children, who were usually never seen again once they’d been taken, at least not alive.

“Max told us that the man he was with is his uncle. We thought that perhaps he was told to say that.”

“Who is this person? Did you not verify his identity?”

“We did,” DI Sherman said. “And he checks out. But we needed to be sure since Max disappeared under such unusual circumstances.”

She opened the file, took out two sheets of paper, and slid them across the table. Quinn picked them up. She was looking at photocopies of Jude’s passport and his military ID.

“B-but how?” she stammered.

“Captain Wyatt said he flew into Heathrow late last night. It was the first flight he could get once the situation at the airport at Stuttgart was resolved. He rented a car and was on his way to see you. It was very early in the morning, so there were hardly any cars on the road. When he took the exit off the A66, he spotted Max walking along the slip road. He picked him up, got him some breakfast, and was on his way to you when he was pulled over by a patrol car.”

Quinn opened her mouth, thought better of saying anything, and shut it again. None of this made sense, and she had so many questions, but before she said anything more to DI Sherman, she needed to speak to Jude. There had to be a reason he hadn’t called her. She could understand him not phoning in the middle of the night to tell her he was flying out, but why wouldn’t he have let her know that he had Max? Surely he must have realized how frantic she was and that the police would be out in full force looking for the little boy. Jude had picked up Max, bought him breakfast, and got back on the road. Had he really been coming to see them, or had he been planning to take Max to London?

“Can I see my brother?” Quinn asked.

“I expect you have much to talk about,” DI Sherman said as she replaced the photocopies in the folder and stood. She opened the door and smiled brightly. “Ah, and there’s Max. Hello. Are you all finished, love?”

Max nodded solemnly, then looked away guiltily when he spotted Quinn.