Lost Child: A Gripping Psychological Thriller Page 2

  “Come on, I’ll race you,” I said.

  I kept hold of her hand and pretended to let her drag me along, protesting she was going too fast. Jenna laughed in delight. She had a competitive spirit and liked to win at everything.

  Kate would tell me off when I let Jenna win the games we played. She insisted Jenna had to learn she wouldn’t always win at everything. But I figured that was my prerogative as her aunt. I didn’t have to make sure Jenna was a good loser. I was just there to help her have fun.

  Her cheeks were glowing when we made it to the bouncy castle. I slid a couple of pound coins out of my pocket to pay the grey-haired man, who stood beside the discarded shoes at the front of the inflatable castle.

  A group of Chinese tourists gathered on the edge of the street. Most of them snapped photos on their phones. I supposed an English fête was quaint and charming to them. One man, a little taller than the others, snapped away using a fancy camera with a long lens.

  Jenna was in such a rush to get on I had to physically grab her and remind her she needed to remove her shoes first. Luckily her pink suede sandals were fastened with Velcro straps. I set them to one side before lifting her onto the bouncy castle.

  She lost her footing almost straightaway, falling and landing on her backside, and she giggled with glee as the bouncing from the other children jostled her.

  “Go on,” I said, encouraging her. “Try to bounce,”

  It had taken a little while for Jenna to regain her footing, and each time she fell it made her giggle even harder.

  A woman was standing on the opposite side of the bouncy castle. I guessed she was a mother watching one of the other children, except she wasn’t really watching. She was tapping out something on her smartphone.

  I turned my attention back to Jenna. She’d found her footing and actually managed a couple of jumps before she fell down again.

  Her cheeks were flushed, and I started to worry that I should have taken off her cardigan. It was unusually warm today.

  “Are you too hot?” I called out. “Come over here and let me take your cardigan off.”

  She shook her head, and I knew she suspected me of trying to lure her off the bouncy castle before she was ready. Jenna was wise to the ploys of adults.

  I exchanged a look with the woman beside me.

  “She knows her own mind, that one,” the woman commented dryly.

  “She certainly does.”

  It didn’t really matter, though. I could take her cardigan off as soon as she was finished.

  I saw a larger boy jumping exuberantly, bouncing closer to Jenna, but before I could call out a warning, the boy stumbled and fell against Jenna. I bit my lip, barely holding myself back from climbing onto the castle myself and picking her up.

  The tumble had shocked her, and she landed with a bump. The happy expression left her face in an instant. She sat there for a moment, eyes wide, as the older boy picked himself up, said sorry and then carried on bouncing.

  Jenna’s lip wobbled, and if I didn’t intervene, it wouldn’t be long before she started to cry.

  I opened up my arms, and she scrambled forward on her hands and knees towards me. I gathered her up, kissed her on the forehead and told her what a brave girl she was.

  “Was that fun? Did you bounce very high?”

  Jenna nodded, torn between wanting to cry and listen to me praise her jumping skills.

  “How high did you jump?” I asked.

  She pointed up to the sky, and I grinned. “That’s amazing.”

  When I was sure tears had been averted, I put her back down, slipped her shoes on and then tugged at her cardigan. “Let’s take this off, shall we? It’s a bit hot today.”

  I took her hand again, and we set off back towards Kate and the rest of the family. Halfway back across the field, I groaned. I was an amateur. I should have brought Jenna back the other way so she didn’t see the face painting again.

  The mishap on the bouncy castle was now completely forgotten, as Jenna grinned gleefully and pointed at the face-painting station.

  “Can I have a butterfly now?”

  I glanced over. Dawn was still there. She looked up and made eye contact, staring blankly at me. I shuddered.

  “No, we’ll do it later,” I said.

  Jenna pouted. “I want a butterfly,” she said, her voice trembling as though her heart were breaking. It was incredible how young children could go from feeling on top of the world to shedding tears within a few seconds.

  I had no idea how Kate dealt with the rollercoaster of Jenna’s emotions every day. It was exhausting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something silver catch the sunlight. I turned. Helium balloons were on sale at another stall just a few feet away.

  The perfect distraction.

  I knelt down beside Jenna and said, “Look over there, poppet. They’ve got balloons. Would you like one?”

  Jenna hesitated. I knew she wanted a balloon, but she also wanted a butterfly painted on her face. She was getting wise to my distraction technique.

  I decided to play my ace card. “That one over there has got a butterfly on it. Do you want that one?”

  That did the trick. A broad smile spread across her face, and her cheeks dimpled. She nodded.

  “Come on, then.”

  Holding Jenna by the hand, I walked over to the balloon stall.

  A middle-aged woman, wearing deep plum lipstick, smiled at me. I didn’t know her name but recognised her. She worked at the local coop. There was a young man with scruffy brown hair standing beside her making balloon animals. Jenna was transfixed as he twisted the balloon and made it squeak.

  “What’s it supposed to be?” I asked, nodding at the blue balloon in his hand.

  “A giraffe,” he said, frowning. He didn’t look at me. His face was screwed up in concentration.

  The woman beside him chuckled. “It looks more like an overweight sausage dog. What can I get you, love?”

  “Can I get one of the helium balloons, please? The one with the butterfly.”

  I didn’t have enough loose change in my pocket, so I let go of Jenna’s hand to pull my purse out of the back pocket of my jeans. I handed the woman a five-pound note and then took my change.

  I put my purse back in my pocket and said thank you as I turned around to give the balloon to Jenna, but she was gone.

  I didn’t panic at first. I held up the balloon and called out to her. “Jenna, I’ve got your butterfly balloon.”

  When Jenna didn’t come racing back to claim her balloon immediately, I looked over in the direction of the face-painting station and sighed.

  I bet she’d run over there.

  My chest was tight, and anxiety prickled my skin, but I fought back the panic. She would be fine, I told myself. She can’t have gone far.

  I marched forward, scanning the area for Jenna. It wasn’t easy. There were so many other children at the fête. They seemed to have multiplied.

  Directly in front of me, a young child sat on a chair, patiently waiting for his face to be covered with tiger stripes.

  A young child about Jenna’s height stood beside the chair. She had the same pale blonde hair. A wave of relief rushed over me when I saw her, but as I got closer, a stab of panic punctured the relief. Her hair was too short. It wasn’t Jenna.

  I think it was at that point the first coils of panic started to spread through my stomach.

  “Has anyone seen Jenna?” I demanded as I reached the face-painting station.

  Dawn Parsons wasn’t there anymore.

  Instead, a younger woman who’d been carefully painting streaks of bright orange on the face of the little boy in front of her turned to me. “What’s wrong?”

  The little boy with the tiger paint pulled a face, baring his teeth to roar. The other children laughed.

  “Have you seen a little girl, three-years-old, blonde hair, pink dress?” I asked urgently.

  The woman’s gaze drifted down to the little girl I’d mistaken
for Jenna only seconds ago.

  “No, that’s not her.”

  I turned around in a slow circle, scanning everywhere for Jenna.

  Maybe she went back to the bouncy castle?

  But before I looked there, I had to tell Kate. I felt sick.

  I jogged over the field, heading for my family, and with each step, I tried to convince myself that Jenna was probably already there. Of course, she must have gone straight back to her mother to tell her she wanted to have her face painted.

  I was a few feet away when Kate turned to look at me.

  Jenna wasn’t by her side. Kate stood next to my mother, and Daniel was still talking to Pippa.

  “Have you seen Jenna?” I asked.

  The look of horror on Kate’s face was like a knife to my stomach.

  Jenna was gone, and it was my fault.

  Chapter Three

  Mum held onto Kate’s arm. “Where did you last see her, Beth?”

  “The balloon stall. I was buying her a balloon.” I gestured pointlessly to the silver, helium balloon I gripped in my left hand.

  Kate’s gaze dropped to my other hand. I was still holding Jenna’s cardigan.

  We spent the next few minutes desperately searching for Jenna. Every adult we knew at the fête and some of those we didn’t began to search for her, looking under tables, behind trees and anywhere else a three-year-old child could possibly hide.

  I rushed back to the bouncy castle, muttering a prayer under my breath. Did Jenna decide to go back there? But if she had, why didn’t she answer us when we called?

  I stumbled on a tuft of grass, and the balloon slipped from my fingers. I desperately tried to capture the ribbon before it drifted too far. My hand closed around thin air as the balloon travelled upwards, taunting me. I couldn’t be trusted to hold on to anything.

  She wasn’t there. No children were playing on it now. The grey-haired man was slowly deflating the castle.

  Kate was white as a sheet, and I couldn’t think where to look for Jenna next. I liked to be in control and organised, but the logical side of my brain had deserted me. I walked around in a circle calling Jenna’s name.

  I heard a shout, and everyone in the vicinity turned.

  It was Mrs Gallagher, the headmistress of Woodstock primary school. “Has anyone checked the playground?”

  The playground. Of course. It was just around the side of the school and had a brightly coloured climbing frame that fascinated Jenna. We could see it when we walked along Burgess St.

  “I’ll look now,” I called back, already running toward the playground. I needed to do something.

  I ran flat-out, my converse shoes thudding against the grass.

  It didn’t take me long to circle around to the back of the school, but the fenced-off playground was empty. There was no one around apart from two little boys chasing each other with sticks.

  I bit down on my bottom lip. They weren’t much older than Jenna, and yet here they were, safe, and playing without any adult supervision. I’d only turned my back on Jenna for a few seconds. It wasn’t fair.

  I turned away, walking quickly back across the school playing field, still looking everywhere for Jenna as I made my way back to my family.

  I met Kate’s eye and shook my head. “Sorry, she’s not there. I think we should phone the police.”

  “I’ve already done it.” Daniel’s voice was cold, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at me.

  Mum reached out and touched my shoulder. “Have a look around the car park, Beth.”

  “The car park? Why would she be there?”

  Mum shot me a meaningful look I couldn’t interpret. Rather than waste time asking further questions, I jogged over to the small car park. There were only twelve cars parked on the crumbly tarmac. Most people at the fête were locals and would have walked to the event. I walked around each car, but there was no sign of Jenna. Then it hit me. I knew why Mum wanted me to go to the car park.

  If someone had taken Jenna, they would find it hard to carry an upset three-year-old very far on foot without drawing attention to themselves, which meant they’d use a car.

  I strode across the tarmac to the exit. There was only one way in and out. I’d stop every car before it left if that’s what it took.

  But no one was leaving. Everyone was taking part in the search, calling out Jenna’s name. Besides, if someone abducted Jenna, would they leave their car here in plain sight?

  I scrunched up my eyes and rubbed them with my fists. How could a three-year-old child go missing in a place like this? Woodstock was safe. The fête was meant to be fun.

  I wrapped my arms around myself, to try and stop myself shaking. It didn’t work.

  I saw the woman from the balloon stall walking towards me.

  “I’m sure we’ll find her,” she said when she was a few feet away from me.

  The brown-haired young man, who’d been making the balloon animals, stood beside her, shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly. He didn’t talk.

  He looked shifty. I narrowed my eyes. Did he have something to do with it? But he couldn’t have. I’d been watching him the whole time. Watching him when I should have been watching Jenna. He wouldn’t have had the opportunity to take her.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know how it happened. I only took my eyes off her for a second, just to pay you for the balloon.”

  The woman gave me a nervous smile and patted my arm. “I know. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

  But of course, that was exactly what I did.

  The police were quick to arrive. At first, there were only two uniformed PCs on the scene, asking questions, and then more of them came as the minutes ticked past, and they expanded the search.

  It took me ages to accept that Jenna was really missing and not just hiding or playing a game. I held on to that hope as long as I could. It was a slow, sinking realisation, a feeling of dread that invaded every cell in my body. For Kate, the realisation came faster and harder.

  It hit her when she was talking to the first police officers on the scene. They’d found one of Jenna’s pink shoes in a nearby street. I wasn’t close enough to hear what they said to her, but I couldn’t miss Kate’s anguished cry in response.

  The lady from the balloon stall raised a tissue to her eyes, and I stepped around her. I needed to do something. Even if Jenna had been taken, there was a chance we could get her back if we acted quickly.

  I pulled my mobile phone from my pocket and tapped on the video app. I wanted a record of these cars and their number plates.

  “Beth Farrow? Can I have a word?” I turned to see a uniformed PC behind me. He was short for a man, roughly my height, and slightly built.

  He had a frown on his face, obviously wondering what I was doing. I lowered my phone.

  “I thought I’d take photos of the number plates, you know, just in case it was important later.”

  He gestured to the corner of the small car park and pointed to a camera mounted on a pole I hadn’t noticed before. “There’s CCTV. We’ll look at that asap. Now, if I could just ask you a few questions? I understand you were the last person to see Jenna?”

  He didn’t actually say it was my fault, but I saw the judgement in his eyes.

  I nodded slowly. “Yes, I bought her a balloon. I only took my eyes off her for a moment… and when I turned back, she’d gone.”

  I was still trembling and thrust my hands into my pockets to stop my hands shaking.

  The uniformed PC nodded. “I’d like to talk to you with the rest of the family if you don’t mind.” He pointed to the corner of the school playing field where Kate, Daniel and Mum stood talking to another officer.

  “I need to stay here,” I said. “I want to make sure no one drives off. If someone abducted Jenna, they’d use a car, wouldn’t they?”

  The PC frowned as though he thought my response was inappropriate in the circumstances. “As I said, we will take a look at the CCTV. Did you see Jenna near the car p
ark?”

  I blinked back tears and shook my head. “No, but she isn’t anywhere else.” I gestured hopelessly at the cars.

  He put a hand on my elbow and led me towards my family. “Right, can you tell me exactly where you were and what you were doing when Jenna disappeared?”

  I told him every single detail I could remember.

  That was the first time I had to tell the police about Jenna’s last known whereabouts, but it wasn’t the last. Before the day was out, I’d described and lived through those minutes again and again and again.

  When I made it back over to Kate, I wanted to reach out and hug her, but I hung back, standing on the outskirts of the family group.

  A plainclothes policeman was talking to Kate, and when he finished asking her questions, he turned to me and saw the cardigan I was still holding.

  “Is that Jenna’s?”

  I nodded.

  “Did you find it?” His tone was urgent.

  I didn’t understand what he was getting at. “I took it off her. She was too hot after the bouncy castle.”

  He nodded at a colleague. “We’ll take that if you don’t mind.”

  He turned to Kate with a kinder expression and said, “We will get it back to you as soon as possible.”

  I kept telling myself the police did this sort of thing all the time. They would find her within minutes.

  But they didn’t.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur until slowly people began to give up on the search. The school field slowly emptied as people returned home.

  The drone of a lawnmower sounded in the distance, and across the street, someone was washing their car. How could their lives be carrying on as normal when Jenna was missing?

  The police told us we should go home and wait. We’d been assigned a female family liaison officer, who escorted us back to the property, as though she feared we’d get lost on our own.

  As we walked back to the house, I felt a glimmer of hope. Had Jenna made her way back home? Maybe she’d darted off, chasing a butterfly and then couldn’t find her way back to the fête and decided to walk home. I knew that was wishful thinking, but I couldn’t resist holding onto that last vestige of hope.