Page 2 of Turmoil's Target

She’s waiting by the door, her own designer luggage in hand and oversized sunglasses perched on her perfectly coiffed head. “Right-o, darling. The car’s just pulled round. Let’s be off, shall we?”

The drive to the airfield passes in a blur, my mind stuck on Daddy’s crinkled blue eyes and big, booming laugh.

He has to be okay. He just has to be.

Our plane is already revving when we arrive, stairs down and waiting.

Mummy takes my hand as we climb aboard, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Next stop, Las Vegas,” she says with a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t fret, my beautiful Sera. Dear everything will turn out splendidly. You’ll see.”

As we lift into the cloudy English sky, I pray with every fiber of my being that my brave, beautiful mummy is right.

Hold on, Daddy.

We’re coming. Just hold on.

The hum of the plane’s engine fills my ears as I stare out the small oval window, watching puffy clouds drift by.

Mummy sits beside me, typing furiously on her mobile with red-tipped fingers.

Her brows are scrunched together, lips pressed into a thin line.

I fidget in my seat, hugging Snuggles close. “Mummy?” My voice sounds small, even to me. “Have you heard anything about Daddy yet?”

Mummy stops typing and turns to face me.

She puts a warm hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Oh, my darling girl.” Her eyes are shiny, like she mightcry, but she blinks it away. “Your grandfather’s best men are searching high and low for Daddy. They won’t stop until they find him, I promise you that.”

“But what if...” I swallow hard, hot tears stinging my eyes. “What if they can’t find him? What if he’s lost forever?”

“Hush now, none of that.” Mummy pulls me into her arms, stroking my hair. “Your daddy is the cleverest, bravest man I know. If anyone can find his way back to us, it’s him.” She pulls back, cupping my face in her hands. “We must stay strong, Sera. Be brave for Daddy. Can you do that for me, poppet?”

I nod, wiping my nose on my sleeve. “I can be brave,” I whisper. “For Daddy.”

“That’s my tough little love.” Mummy kisses my forehead, then settles back in her seat. “Try to rest now. I’ll wake you when we land.”

I curl into Mummy’s side, burying my face in her cashmere jumper.

It smells like her—like home and safety and everything good in this world.

As I drift off to sleep, I picture Daddy’s face, his crinkle-eyed smile.

I don’t know how many hours have passed, but the purr of the car’s engine lulls me awake.

I blink against the harsh Nevada sun slanting through the tinted windows. Mummy is on the phone, her voice raw and thready. “You’re absolutely certain?”

My tummy twists into anxious knots.

I may be little, but I know that tone.

It’s the something’s-gone-terribly-wrong voice adults use when they think children aren’t listening.

Mummy makes a choking sound, like she’s swallowed something sharp. “I see. Yes. Thank you for...” She covers the receiver, takes a shuddering breath. “For letting me know.”

As she hangs up, I tug at her sleeve. “Mummy? Was that about Daddy? Did they find him?”

She turns to me, and the look in her eyes steals my breath.

They’re glassy with unshed tears, rimmed in red, but there’s something else.

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