Page 79 of Close Protection

‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea.’

‘Please, Milosh, my brain can’t possibly make up any worse scenarios.’

He studies me for a moment, unease resting in his eyes,before he nods and hands me the phone. He’s emailed himself multiple videos of different angles of the house. I click on the first one and it shows a grainy picture of the driveway, the gates opening and five black SUVs driving up. One of the security guys at the front of the house walks up to the first car, speaking to the passengers for a moment before a pair of hands reaches out and twists his neck, causing him to collapse to the ground.

I let out a gasp, covering my mouth, and watch as the other security man pulls out his radio but doesn’t make it far because three big men dressed head to toe in black step out of the car and rip it from his hand. The video stops so I slide on to the next clip. This one is short and shows about six of these men walking into the house and pairing off to search different rooms.

I move on to the next clip of the kitchen where Josh and Bethany are cleaning up after dinner. Josh is by the sink and Bethany is standing next to him, packing the dishwasher. Her head rises and she drops the plate in her hand. The crash gets Josh’s attention and he turns around only to be greeted with a gun pointed at him. My heart breaks when they both hold their hands up in surrender and follow whatever instructions they’re given, walking out of the kitchen.

There are no cameras in the bedrooms, the bathroomsor my father’s study so I can’t see what happened there, but there is another clip showing the first-floor hallway as the masked men go in and out of the rooms.

I turn the phone off and pass it back to Milosh, saying nothing. I look at my hands, not quite knowing what to do with myself.

‘What do you think they wanted?’

‘I think they wanted to scare George into giving them the formula. The camera cut out after that last clip so I don’t know how many people were in the house, but I do know that they won’t hurt him until they get what they want. As far as they can tell, George is the only one who knows where it is so killing him wouldn’t be beneficial.’

I stay quiet, taking in what I just heard.

He’s alive.

He has to be alive.

And they didn’t harm anyone on camera so there’s a good chance they’re alive too.

There were bloodstains on the floor of Charlotte’s bedroom and in your father’s study.Milosh’s voice echoes back to me.

They may be injured but they’re okay.

They have to be.

I will my tears not to fall but they don’t listen. So I cry.

I cry for my father.

I cry for my house.

I cry for my family.

‘Come here,’ Milosh says, so I stand and he pulls me into his lap. He stays silent and lets me sob into his chest, rubbing my back methodically. ‘It’s gonna be okay, we’ll find them.’

We have to.

30Daphne

It’s 3 a.m. when the taxi drops us off at the cottage. I take the spare key out of a small alcove to the side of the window and open the door. The hallway is dark, cold and uninviting as we enter and an unexpected wave of nostalgia washes over me when Milosh flicks on the lights. I haven’t been here in years.

My father bought this cottage as a Christmas present for my mother when I was six. She kept telling him that we needed a small, cosy getaway, far from all the noise and people because, unlike me and my father, my mother didn’t grow up with money. When she married him, a house full of staff took some getting used to. So my father bought this small two-bed cottage in the middle of the French countryside, with wooden beams lining the ceilings and a fireplace gracing the bedrooms and the living room. My mother loved it and didn’t let anyone useit but us. For three years, we spent every possible holiday here, even a couple of weekends, and my mother had a strict no-work-phone rule so that she and my father were just present in the moment.

‘I’m just gonna do a quick sweep of the house,’ Milosh says, opening the living-room door and dropping our bags in there. I walk into the kitchen, turning the lights on and looking in our cupboards to see what we have. It’s been around five years since my father and I visited so it’s not a shock when I open an empty fridge and empty cupboards, save for a packet of pasta. I reach for it and check the use-by date. Yep. Went off two years ago.

‘The house is clear,’ Milosh states as he walks into the kitchen looking around. ‘I’ll go and get some food in the morning.’

I nod and close all the cupboards again, shivering slightly when I feel a gust of cold air.

‘I lit the fire in the living room and what I assumed was your room, so it should warm up in a bit.’ His eyes are soft when they meet mine. I wrap myself tighter in Milosh’s jacket before making my way upstairs. My bedroom is the first door, so thankfully I don’t have to walk past my parents’, but when I go inside, I’m hit with a pang of longing.

Longing for a different time.

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