Chapter 64
SIXTY-FOUR
Keswick
Quinn snatched up her mobile when it rang.
She hoped it was the police, or Gabe, but it was neither of them; the call came from an unlisted number, one of a dozen she’d received over the past few days and that morning.
She had answered the first few, thinking they might be from Logan or the police, only to be met with telemarketers’ prerecorded messages about products or loans.
Quinn declined the call and blocked the number.
She had tried not to frighten the children any more than they already were, but it was becoming impossible.
After two cups of coffee, she was so jittery she found herself pacing the lounge, her mobile clutched tightly in her hand.
By the time Gabe finally walked through the door, she was wrung out.
He looked wretched, and, without saying a word, he gathered her into his arms and held her close.
“There’s no sign of him,” he said at last. “Sam and Reggie and all their guests came out to search, and several police officers were sent over from Keswick, but they have been recalled.” He looked gutted. “Quinn, they don’t believe Max is still in the area.”
“No!” Quinn cried. “He has to be. They have to find him.”
“No one has seen him. They’re checking the traffic cameras to see if anyone was in the vicinity of the hotel this morning, but there are no CCTV cameras that capture the boathouse or the lane that leads towards the lake.”
“What about the main house?”
Gabe nodded. “There is a camera by the front door that covers the car park and the drive up, but no one arrived this morning.”
Quinn was crying again, and Gabe held her tight, his cheek resting on the top of her head.
He didn’t offer pointless clichés, and for that she was grateful.
She didn’t want to be lied to or soothed with empty reassurances.
She knew bad things happened—perhaps better than most—after everything she had witnessed in her visions and endured in real life.
She would have given anything to turn back the clock to last week, when Logan and Max had been safe and her biggest worry had been meeting the deadline for the article she was writing.
How could everything have changed so quickly and so catastrophically?
What had happened to Logan, and where was Max?
She prayed he was safe and that whoever had taken him meant him no harm.
“Are you hungry?” Gabe asked quietly.
Quinn shook her head. “I can’t even think about food. The kids ate, though. Can I make you something?”
The idea of doing something normal helped steady her, and she pulled away from Gabe and went to the kitchen.
She filled the electric kettle, turned it on, and set two slices of bread into the toaster.
With a weary sigh, Gabe sank into a chair and looked down at the table.
Quinn knew he felt he had failed her, but the only person she blamed was herself.
She had heard something and chosen to go back to sleep.
She could have saved Max, or maybe could have caught a glimpse of the person who took him through the window and given the police a description.
Because he had to have been taken. If he’d left on his own, he would have been found by now, since he couldn’t have got far.
Now the police were working blind, and it was entirely her fault.
And considering the statistics, it was all too possible that Max would never be seen again.
Quinn made Gabe a cup of coffee, buttered the toast, and set the plate in front of him.
He nodded but didn’t reach for the food.
He wrapped his hands around the mug and looked out the window, his jaw tightening as his thoughts likely ran along the same painful path as hers.
The children remained in the bedroom, too upset to come out, and she was grateful she didn’t have to speak to them just yet.
She had no strength left, so she slid into a chair and buried her face in her hands.
Logan had trusted her with Max, and she had let him down.
A sharp knock jolted both her and Gabe out of their misery. Gabe was on his feet instantly and pulled the door open. DS Coyle stood on the threshold. She nodded to Gabe, but her eyes went straight to Quinn.
“We picked up Max on a traffic camera,” she said. “He’s with a man driving a rental car.”
She held out her phone to show Quinn a grainy still.
The man sat behind the wheel of a two-seater, and Max was beside him in the passenger seat.
The child’s face barely cleared the dashboard, but he looked unhurt and was held in place by the seatbelt.
The driver wore a cap that cast a shadow over the upper half of his face.
All Quinn could make out was that he was white, unshaven, and married.
A glint of light caught the wedding ring on his left hand.
“We’ve dispatched a patrol to intercept the vehicle,” DS Coyle said.
“What can we do?” Quinn cried.
“Nothing. Sit tight.”