Page 5 of Savage Justice

I briefly contemplate staying, explaining, but it’s all just too complicated, and I can’t risk becoming embroiled in the inevitable police investigation. I cut my losses, get back in the car, and do a U-turn.

CHAPTER 2

Molly

“Who was that man? What were you doing in his car? How many times have I told you…?”

My barrage of fear-fuelled, angry questions dies in my throat when Lucy dashes up the path and throws her arms around my waist. She’s hugging me as though she never expected to see me again, and her shoulders are shaking. She’s crying. No, sobbing. Really sobbing, wretched, heartbroken gulping sobs.

I drop to a crouch, bringing my face level with hers. “Sweetheart? Baby, what’s happened?”

“There was… There was…” She can’t get the words out.

“Okay, slow down. You can tell me. What’s happened to make you so upset?”

“There… There was a man…”

My stomach sinks through the ground. “What man? The man in the car just now?”

She shakes her head. “Not him. Another man, by the bus stop…”

“Did this man scare you? Do something to upset you?” What man? What the fuck has happened to my darling baby?

She nods. “He… he put me in his van, and—”

Oh God! I fight off the wave of nausea that threatens to engulf me. I have to stay focussed.

“His van? You mean the car that was outside just now?”

“No. A white van. He locked me in and drove off.”

Dear sweet Jesus. I wrap her in my arms, baby Noah sandwiched between us. I’m going to be sick, I truly am.

“Are you sure? But… how…?” Countless awful images swirl in my head, each more terrifying than the one before.

“Mummy, we need to tell the police where he is.”

“What? Where who is? You mean this man? The one who put you in his van?”

“Yes, Mummy. The police need to go and get him.”

Too fucking right they do! Where’s my phone?

I gather some semblance of coherence and succeed in at least getting to my feet. “Let’s go inside. I’ll phone the police and you can tell me everything…” Is this even real?

I locate my phone perched on the fireplace and dial nine-nine-nine.

“Police,” I trot out, in answer to the crisp question about which service I require. I’m put through to the control room, and I briefly recite what Lucy has told me.

“My daughter, she’s ten, got abducted. She’s home now, but she says a man put her in his van and— Yes, she’s all right. No, I don’t think an ambulance is needed. No, she’s still wearing the same clothes. Witnesses? I’m not sure. Yes, okay.”

I reel off our address. A patrol car is on the way to us.

I sit Lucy down on a chair at the kitchen table and place myself opposite. Noah is asleep in my arms, but I reach across to take my little girl’s hand. “Okay. The police will be here soon. Slowly, tell me exactly what happened.”

Her voice is shaky but strangely resolute. “I missed my bus…”

“Okay.”

---