Chapter 61
SIXTY-ONE
Gabe pulled a sobbing Quinn into his arms and held her close. “We will get him back,” he said softly. “I swear.”
He was in no position to make such a vow, but Quinn was ready to believe anything if it would bring Max back.
Her heart was racing, and she felt as though all her bones had turned to rubber.
If Gabe let her go, she doubted she could remain upright.
He seemed to sense that and guided her to the sofa, then disappeared into the bedroom and returned with her mobile.
As soon as Quinn sat down, Mia climbed into her lap and buried her face in Quinn’s shoulder.
Alex sprinted across the room and snatched up his teddy, but let out a sharp cry and dropped it at once when he saw the missing eyes.
He ran to the sofa and pressed himself against Quinn’s other side, fitting himself to her the way he had when he was a toddler.
Gabe pressed the phone into Quinn’s hand. “Call the Keswick police. Report Max missing. Then ring DI Malone. He probably has more resources than the local station.”
“He’s in London,” Quinn moaned.
“He can still help. A child is missing. Quite possibly abducted. Malone will have no choice but to prioritize the case.” Gabe turned to go, and Quinn reared up.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to look for Max further afield. I need to get dressed.”
Gabe glanced at his frightened children. At any other time he would have tried to comfort them, but there was no time to waste, so he walked into the bedroom and shut the door. He reappeared a minute later, fully dressed, and ready to go.
“Dad, I’m coming with you,” Emma cried, but Gabe shook his head.
“You’re needed here. Lock the door behind me.” He walked out without another word.
Gabe’s departure seemed to break the spell of shock. Emma and Alex immediately began firing questions at Quinn, while Mia burst into tears, no doubt frightened and unable to fully grasp what was happening.
“Emma, can you please make breakfast for your brother and sister?” Quinn asked. “I need to make a phone call.”
She disentangled herself from Mia’s arms and sat her down on the sofa, then went into the bedroom to call the police.
It took much longer than seemed necessary to explain the situation and answer DS Coyle’s questions.
Quinn bristled at the woman’s accusing tone when she asked how Max could have left or been taken without Quinn or Gabe noticing.
It was a fair question, one Quinn had already tortured herself with.
She could have kicked herself for not getting up to investigate when she had woken earlier that morning.
But she’d had no reason to suspect anything was wrong.
Max had appeared to be asleep in his cot, the blanket pulled over his head.
Oh God, Quinn groaned inwardly as she looked towards Max’s bed.
What she had seen had not been her nephew at all but a pillow and duvet arranged to resemble a sleeping child.
Max had already been gone when she’d woken.
As she continued answering the policewoman’s questions, she hurried into the front room and checked by the door.
Max’s shoes were missing, as was his cagoule.
Whoever had taken him must have grabbed them on the way out, but how had they kept him quiet?
Max was a light sleeper and would certainly have stirred if someone lifted him from his bed.
Unless it had been his dad. But why would Logan feel the need to break in and kidnap his own son?
He would never do that to her and Gabe. The momentary hope collapsed.
It hadn’t been Logan. More likely someone had pressed a chloroform-soaked cloth over Max’s face.
Had she smelled anything? She didn’t think so, but she had been deeply asleep, dreaming about Geneva Bellamy.
Ignoring the children’s questions, Quinn returned to the bedroom.
For a moment she considered phoning Sean Cadogan, but quickly realized there was nothing more he could do for her.
He was no longer in charge of the Metropolitan Police Service, and no one would take orders from him, not even Malone.
Malone had his own bosses to answer to, but this time she would not allow him to dismiss her.
Quinn rang the detective and explained the situation. Malone listened without interruption, and when he spoke his tone was grim. This was no longer a missing adult. The situation had changed, and every wasted minute took Max farther away from them.
“Do you have a close-up photo of Max?”
“Yes.”
“Text it to me. I’ll circulate the photo and issue a force-wide alert,” Malone said. “Stay inside and keep an eye on the other children. And please contact me immediately if your husband finds Max.” He paused, then added, “Did it rain there last night?”
“Yes.”
“Can you step outside?”
“Yes, but why?” Quinn asked as she slid her feet into her shoes and stepped out the door.
“I want you to look around very carefully. Do you see any muddy footprints?”
“No.”
“What about the car park? Any additional tire tracks?” Malone asked.
Quinn walked around the house to the narrow gravel strip, then towards the lane, where the gravel gave way to packed earth. She found only one set of tire tracks leading away from the house—almost certainly from their own minivan.
“I only see one set of tire tracks,” she said. “I think they’re from our car.”
“Take some photographs and forward them to me. By the time the local police arrive, any footprints or tracks may be smudged.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’ll be in touch as soon as I know anything,” Malone promised, and rang off.
Quinn took several photos, sent them to the detective, then went inside to wait for word of Max. She fought to keep her emotions in check so as not to frighten the children, but she felt as though her heart had shattered into a million pieces.