For Your Own Protection(22)

‘My son,’ he said to the grey-haired woman behind the desk. ‘Have you found him?’

‘Your son?’

My God, they said they’d informed the front desk!

‘Yes, my son Charlie. He’s been missing for about ten minutes. Weren’t you told to look for him? The lifeguard – he said he’d tell you.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not normally on here. I’m just covering for a few minutes while my colleague nips to the toilet.’

Matt shook his head, incensed. ‘A four-year-old boy has gone missing from one of your swimming pools. Everyone should know about it!’

She reddened. ‘Yes, of course, I’m sorry.’

Matt was growing more frightened with each passing second – fate seemed to be conspiring against him. ‘How long have you been on the desk?’

‘Er, two minutes or so.’

Matt put a hand to his head. ‘He could have walked out of here any time in the past few minutes, and you wouldn’t have known.’

‘I . . . I’d have seen a child, a four-year-old, walking around on their own. I’d have spotted that and intervened, I’m sure I would have.’

‘But what if they were with an adult? What if he’s been taken? They said they’d give his description to whoever was on the front desk. Four years old, brown hair, brown eyes, red—’

Matt was cut off by the leisure centre manager striding towards him. ‘Mr Roberts. We’ve found him.’

Matt could hardly take it in. ‘You’ve got him? Thank God. Where is—’

‘He’s in the staffroom, with Nikki, my deputy, enjoying a cup of orange juice and a biscuit.’ He noted Matt’s expression, still full of concern. ‘Don’t worry, he’s fine. Come on, I’ll take you to him now.’

‘Where did you find him?’ Matt asked as they made their way through the double doors, back to the wet zone.

‘Someone handed him to Alice, one of our lifeguards.’

‘Someone?’

‘A woman. She said she’d found him wandering around the ladies’ loos.’

So I was right to investigate the toilets. I just got the wrong ones.

‘Daddy, where have you been?’ Charlie chastised as Matt entered the room. Charlie placed the plastic cup of half-drunk orange juice on the table, crunched on his digestive biscuit, and eyed Matt for an explanation.

Matt ran over and hugged him tightly. He had never been so pleased or relieved to see anyone in his life. He felt like crying. ‘I was waiting for you, Charlie, to come down the slide. But you never came back. Where did you go?’

‘Toilet,’ Charlie said, rather sheepishly. ‘Needed a wee.’

‘You should have come back to me. I’d have taken you. I was so worried, Charlie. You know not to go off on your own. Mummy and Daddy, we’ve told you bad things can happen if you walk off like that.’

Charlie hung his head. ‘I’m sorry, Daddy. I won’t do it again, I promise.’

‘Good boy,’ Matt said, placing a comforting hand across his son’s back. ‘You’re lucky that nice lady saw you and helped you.’

‘Yes,’ Charlie said, brightening as he snapped off another piece of biscuit. ‘Lucky that Aunty Cath saw me.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Lucky she saw me.’

Matt made sure Charlie was listening. ‘Charlie, you saw Aunty Cath?’

Charlie put a hand up to his mouth, theatrically wide-eyed. ‘Oops. I wasn’t meant to tell you that, Daddy.’





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Rachel moved towards the door, her body tense and fearful at the thought that someone might have invaded her home.

Could she have forgotten to close it?

It seemed highly unlikely. Normally her problem was controlling her OCD, which made her check multiple times that the door was locked.

She pushed at the door, her hand shaking. ‘Hello?’ she shouted, a warning wrapped as a greeting: if there was a burglary in process, she’d rather the perpetrators escape out the back now than face her down. ‘Is anybody there?’

But as she edged through the open doorway, there was no response, and no other sounds of life coming from within the flat.

Maybe she had just left the door open after all.

Then Rachel put a hand to her mouth. The entrance hallway was strewn with coats, which had been yanked recklessly from their hooks. She stepped over the items, her heart pounding. ‘My God!’ The living room had been turned upside down – an indoor tornado of destruction. Drawers had been flung open and lay upended on the carpet, their contents littered around. The bookcase was empty, with books flung in every direction. The kitchen had been attacked, with plates smashed and cutlery everywhere. In the bathroom, the cabinet had been ripped off the wall, taking a sizeable chunk of plasterboard with it; shards of splintered mirror speckled the floor and bottles spilled out their contents. But her bedroom was the worst – her and Alex’s most private possessions violated.

Rachel turned and fled the flat, half stumbling in her panic to escape the scene. She dialled 999 before she even reached the pavement.



Rachel waited outside until the patrol car arrived. The two female uniformed officers offered to conduct their initial questioning of her in the vehicle, but Rachel felt it best to get back inside the flat – after all, it was just putting off the inevitable, and whoever had done this was now long gone.