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Chapter One
Friday 5th August
The station door burst open with enough force to smash glass.
A couple sitting on the bench in the lobby jumped and glared. A poster on the wall fell to the floor, a potted plant on the window ledge tipped over, and the desk sergeant’s wish for an easy, late-summer evening all but disappeared.
A distraught blonde and her male companion covered the distance to the counter within seconds. Her eyes were red, her face streaked with mascara. She was slim and short, with blue eyes and a hooked nose like a female Peter Pan. She wore a blue quilted jacket and faded jeans. One glance and he knew her nerves were shot to pieces. She wrung her hands together continually, twisting the ring around her third finger.
“You have to help me,” she pleaded, making a grab for the desk sergeant’s hand. “My daughter’s missing.”
The man with her said nothing. He wore a green overall with a badge bearing the name ‘Rudstons’, and Wellington boots. His flat cap complimented the image of a farmer. He held a rucksack over one shoulder. From the way he comforted the woman, the sergeant guessed she was his wife.
“What’s your name, love?” responded Sergeant Williams.
“My name?” she shouted. “Never mind my name.” She stepped back, pointing to the lobby door. “We’re wasting time while she’s out there.”
The man put his left arm around her. “Sally, try and calm down.”
“Calm down, Gareth? She’s out there. Our baby is lost. She could be anywhere, with anyone, and you want me to calm down.” She quickly pointed at the desk sergeant. “And why aren’t you doing anything about it?”
Sergeant Williams came round to her side of the counter. “Your husband’s right, love. You need to keep calm so you can remember all the details.”
“Details?” she repeated, at her wits’ end. “What details, for God’s sake? I wasn’t there.”
“What I meant was, try and keep calm so you can answer our questions.”
She was about to respond, but Williams held a finger up to cut her off. “Please, if you’ll just tell me your name.”
The woman hesitated before replying. “Sally Summerby.”
When it was clear that she wasn’t going to introduce the man with her, the desk sergeant glanced at him.
“Gareth Summerby, her husband.”
“And your little girl is missing, you say?”
“Yes. She could be anywhere.” The woman’s voice started to rise again, hysteria taking over. “Please, you have to help. You have to do something.”
Williams knew he needed to take control, otherwise they would have little chance of gaining any useful information. By chance, a WPC whose name he wasn’t sure of entered the lobby.
“Is DI Goodman in?” he asked the female officer.
“Yes, Sarge.”
“Ask her to come through, please.”
The WPC slipped back through the doors without question. Sergeant Williams asked Sally Summerby and her husband to take a seat, even though he doubted she would. Sally was too distraught to do something rational like sit down.
The WPC quickly returned with Goodman, who was immaculately dressed in a tight-fitting, knee-length grey skirt with a dark blue blouse and grey jacket. She was slim, with raven black hair and a smooth complexion. She wore little make-up other than a narrow layer of eye shadow and a touch of rose-coloured lipstick. Williams quickly filled her in on the couple’s predicament. Within minutes Goodman had them both in an office, asking another officer to make tea for all of them as the WPC joined them.
“Mrs Summerby. I’m going to ask you a few questions. Please try and stay calm–”
“Calm!” shouted Sally Summerby. “Why the hell is everyone telling me to stay calm? My daughter’s missing. She’s out there, prey to all kinds of maniacs, and you want me to sit here and drink tea and answer your questions. Why aren’t you doing something?”
“We are,” replied Goodman. “Believe me. But I need answers to some basic questions. My team will then have the information they need to plan the right course of action to find your daughter.”
The WPC spoke up. “Please, Mrs Summerby, we will do everything possible to find your daughter, but you have to help us.”
Before Sally Summerby could say anything else, Goodman asked her first question. “Can I have your names?”
“We’ve already given them to the desk sergeant,” replied Sally Summerby.
“I realize that, but please bear with me.”
Names were reluctantly given. Sally Summerby had taken to
biting her nails and fidgeting in her seat. She was very agitated, as Goodman would have expected. Gareth Summerby wasn’t.
“And your daughter’s name?”
“Chloe.”
