Lost Child: A Gripping Psychological Thriller Read online

  Kate was deathly silent, and Daniel babbled on about his confidence in the police force. I think it was more for his benefit than Kate’s.

  I stopped listening. On the opposite side of the road, I saw a Chinese couple, walking arm in arm. He had a fancy camera around his neck, and I recognised him as the man who had been taking photographs earlier. What if he’d managed to catch Jenna on that camera?

  I flew across the street, away from my family and the police officer escorting us.

  “Stop!” I called out. “I need to see your camera. It’s urgent.”

  A frown puckered the man’s forehead, and his wife clutched his arm. I don’t think they understood what I was saying.

  When I reached them, I pointed at the camera around his neck. “I want to look.” I jabbed my finger at the camera. “At the pictures.”

  He didn’t move fast enough, so I tried to remove the camera myself. He clung firmly to the straps and looked horrified as though he thought I wanted to mug him.

  “Please, I just need to look at your photographs.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder, and then the family liaison officer stepped in between the man with the camera and me. “I don’t think we need to look at those right now, Beth. Let’s get home.”

  “But I saw them. They were taking photographs opposite the school at the fête. There might be something important on his camera, a photo of Jenna.”

  The family liaison officer’s calm expression wavered for a moment, but she maintained her position in front of the Chinese tourists.

  Every year we had coachloads of tourists in Woodstock. They loved to come and see the old English town and visit Blenheim Palace. What if this couple got back on their coach and never realised they had a vital photograph of Jenna?

  I took a deep breath. The Family Liaison Officer wanted me to stop making such a fuss and get back to my family, but I couldn’t. It was a long shot, but he might have something on that camera.

  “Leave it to me,” she said, making me stand a short distance away so I couldn’t overhear their conversation.

  She launched into a long-winded explanation. They finally seemed to understand what I wanted, and smiles broke out over their faces as they nodded. She handed them a card, and then they went on their way.

  I put a hand to my forehead and fought the urge to run after the tourists. What was to stop them going back to China without showing us any of the photographs? We had no contact details for them.

  “What are you doing? You didn’t even look at the camera.”

  She pursed her lips together and put a hand on my shoulder, guiding me back to my family. “He’s given me the memory card, and I told him he could collect it from the station tomorrow. We have the photographs. Leave the investigation to us, Beth.”

  Shamefaced, I met the stony gaze of Daniel Creswell. He wanted me to leave. I had no doubt about that, but I couldn’t leave my mother and Kate, not now.

  I shot an apologetic look at Mum and then turned to Kate. She was holding herself as though she were made of glass and one wrong move would cause her to splinter into a million pieces.

  Not long after Jenna went missing, Kate stopped holding herself together, and the result shattered all our lives.

  Chapter Four

  Two years later.

  I blinked in the bright sunlight and raised a hand against the sun’s glare. The beginnings of a headache throbbed behind my eyes. I wasn’t sure whether it was the sun or the alcohol. Probably a combination of both.

  Friday brunch in Dubai was a tradition that I never missed. There was a large group of us here today at the Address Hotel. The food was good, and the free-flowing alcohol was even better. We’d finished eating and had come to sit outside by the pool bar. May in Dubai could be intensely hot, and today was no exception. Ram, a Nepalese waiter, handed me a cold towel, and I thanked him. I’d spoken to him before. I knew he thought we were odd to sit outside when it was so hot.

  “Mad Dogs and Englishmen,” I said as he took our order for another round of drinks.

  He frowned at me.

  “Noel Coward.”

  The confused frown remained, and I told him it didn’t matter. I didn’t feel like explaining further.

  I leant forward, picked up my gin and tonic and then settled back in the comfortable cushioned seat beside the pool, watching Mark and Adrian lark about. They’d had too much to drink as usual. When I had too much to drink, I became melancholy, isolating myself from everyone. When Mark and Adrian had too much to drink, they played the fool, hamming it up for laughs.

  The waiters at the pool bar walked around them, shooting them occasional disapproving looks.

  The sky was a perfect blue, unblemished by clouds. The hotel overlooked the sprawling Dubai mall, and all around us, modern skyscrapers glinted in the sunlight. The biggest of them all, the Burg Khalifa, towered over us. Music started up in the distance, indicating a fountain show was imminent.

  “Are you okay, hun?” Sylvia sat down on the chair next to me. She held her cocktail glass at an angle, suggesting she was a little worse for wear. Her make-up was perfect, though, as was her carefully tinted and blow-dried hair despite the heat.

  I worked with Sylvia, which was why I was friends with this group of people. Friends was probably a generous description. They put up with me tagging along because I knew Sylvia, and I liked going out with this loud, gregarious crowd because it stopped me thinking about the past. They didn’t know much about me. I kept to myself.

  After Jenna had gone missing, the media was intense. They’d camped outside the house, of course, but that wasn’t the worst of it. That much I had anticipated. I hadn’t expected journalists to sidle up to me and start conversations as I waited in line at a coffee shop. I hadn’t expected journalists to call me at work, and I certainly hadn’t expected a journalist to lie their way into Kate’s hospital room.

  I was far more careful now. I didn’t trust people easily. But I liked Sylvia and envied her decadent, carefree lifestyle.

  I smiled up at Sylvia and raised my glass. “I’m fine. You?”

  Sylvia flopped back into the chair, spilling a little of the bright red cocktail on her white sundress. “Oh, bugger. This is Jil Sander. Why is it I always spill things on my expensive clothes?”

  “Sod’s law, I guess.” I took a sip of my drink.

  She ran her hands nervously over her dress, smoothing the creased fabric and bit her lower lip. I knew her well enough to sense she wanted to say something else. So, I waited for her to continue.

  She put her cocktail on the small table between us and took a deep breath. “Are you going to apply for the promotion, Beth?”

  We both worked for the same Arabic media company. The staff were treated well, and the pay was excellent, especially as the salary was tax-free. My role had nothing to do with the media. My duties involved chasing after my fifty-year-old boss and doing practically everything for him because he was incompetent. He was a nice guy just not very tech-savvy. He broke out in a sweat every time I tried to explain how Outlook worked. I could probably find a more challenging job or even another more demanding job with the same company, but my daily tasks were easy and uncomplicated, and right now, that suited me just fine.

  Sylvia had started working at the company two years before me, and I guessed she was keen to land this promotion.

  “I don’t think so. I’m happy with things as they are,” I said. I had no driving ambition to climb the corporate ladder, not here. Dubai was only ever meant to be a break, somewhere I could escape to, and get my head straight before I screwed things up even more.

  Dubai had been my brother-in-law’s idea. Daniel thought I needed to get away and start afresh. I didn’t agree. At least, not at first. It was a year after Jenna disappeared when he first mentioned the idea. I was sitting at the kitchen table with him and Mum when he brought the subject up.

  I dismissed the idea immediately, staring at him as though he’d lost his mind.

>   Daniel had taken a deep breath and exchanged a look with my mother, which infuriated me. I hated the way he did that. As though it was him and my mother united against me, trying to make me see sense.

  “Hear me out, Beth,” he’d said. “I think the break would do you good. A friend of mine has a job available, great pay with a generous holiday allowance. It would be perfect for you.”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t.”

  “Why what’s keeping you here?” he asked, unable to hide his exasperation as he gestured around my mother’s kitchen.

  He couldn’t be serious. I didn’t want him here, sitting at the same old, scrubbed pine table where our family had shared so many happy memories. Daniel was a reminder of how that happiness had evaporated.

  I kept my eyes fixed on the rose-printed tea set displayed in the huge dresser set back against the kitchen wall. I focused on the old, familiar objects in the kitchen rather than Daniel’s face and spoke slowly, hoping my words would penetrate his thick, insensitive skull. “I couldn’t leave Mum now. Not after everything that’s happened.”

  I glanced at Mum, and she reached out to hold my hand. “I think it’s a good idea, Beth.”

  “You do?” I frowned at Mum. She looked tired, beaten down by life, and I knew that was, at least partially, my fault. “But I couldn’t leave you now.”

  She gave a pained smile and tightened her grip on my hand. “You’re not to worry about me. Besides, I have Daniel looking out for me, and it wouldn’t be for long. Just until you get your head straight. I can visit, too. I’ve already looked at flights. I could come and see you at Christmas.”

  I was silent. They had planned this.

  The only sound in the kitchen was the ticking of the antique clock Kate had bought Mum for her birthday a few years ago. I wondered how long they’d been discussing how to solve my problems behind my back.

  Looking back now, I could understand why they were so worried. My behaviour had been reckless. I’d lost my job, fallen behind on my rent and visited the police station at least once a week with fresh names I demanded they investigate.

  At first, the police had humoured me and promised they would look into whomever I’d chosen as my suspect of the week. They’d soon grown tired of me, though, and Daniel told me outright my behaviour was embarrassing.

  I’d lost my job two months after Jenna’s disappearance. In the immediate aftermath, people had been kind. My boss told me to take as much time as I needed, but that was just something people said. They didn’t really mean it. He certainly didn’t, and I’d needed more time than he was prepared to give.

  My life was a mess, and I didn’t know how to fix it, so I took the only option open to me. I left the UK and headed to Dubai.

  I closed my eyes, remembering.

  “Hey, are you listening to me?” Sylvia’s voice penetrated my thoughts, and I forced myself to smile.

  “Sorry, I just drifted off for a moment. What were you saying?” I took a sip of my gin and tonic. The outside of the glass was wet, and the ice cubes had already melted. That was the downside of living in Dubai, but May was pleasant compared to August when you could open a window and the rush of heat felt as though you’d opened an oven door.

  “I’m going to go for it,” Sylvia said. “The promotion, I mean. Will you put in a good word for me with Dave if he asks about me?”

  “Of course.”

  My mobile beeped with the sound of an incoming text message, and I leant forward to fumble beneath my chair for my handbag. I’d put it under there in the shade. It was so hot in the sun it could melt your lipstick. I knew that from experience.

  My mobile felt hot to the touch, and I tapped on the screen to view the text message. There was no name, just a number, which meant the number wasn’t stored in my phone’s memory. I clicked on the message to open it.

  A picture appeared on the screen, and my stomach clenched. I sat up quickly, to get a better look. The glare on the screen made it difficult to see. I used my bag to shade the screen and then I started to shake.

  A bubbling sensation formed in my chest, like a silent scream erupting under my ribs.

  “What’s wrong? Beth, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. It’s not bad news, is it?”

  I shook my head slowly. I hadn’t seen a ghost. I’d seen Jenna.

  I shoved my phone back in my bag and stood up, dumping my drink on the table. “I have to go. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

  I didn’t say goodbye to anyone else in the group and didn’t wait for Sylvia to answer. I strode away, skirting around the pool and heading for the hotel. My heart was thundering in my chest as I pushed open the glass doors. Inside, the air was cool, and the change in temperature made me shiver. My sandals slapped against the pale, cool marble floor.

  I didn’t get far before Ram stopped me. He was smiling and holding out his phone to me. I shook my head not understanding what he wanted.

  “Sorry, I have to go, Ram. I’ll see you next time.”

  “It’s Noel Coward. Mad Dogs,” he said grinning, pointing at the video he’d found on the internet.

  “Oh, yes. Very good.”

  His face fell at my lacklustre response. I felt bad but couldn’t even attempt a conversation about Noel Coward right now. All I could think about was Jenna’s photograph, and questions were whirling around in my mind. I couldn’t focus on anything else.

  I walked past the reception desk and headed to the chairs in the lobby. I’d intended to get home and look at the photograph again in private, but I couldn’t wait. My hand was shaking as I reached inside my bag for the phone. Holding my breath, I opened the message again. Had I imagined it? Was I going mad?

  I stared at the screen. It was Jenna. She was older and had lost some of her babylike plumpness, but her eyes were the same. I zoomed in on the image. She had two small moles on her left cheek, close to her mouth.

  I stifled a sob and blinked away the tears that made it hard to focus. There was no doubt in my mind. It was a photograph of Jenna.

  Chapter Five

  I tried to call the phone number that sent the message multiple times but got a recorded message, which told me the number was not in use. It made no sense. The photograph had only been sent from that number a couple of minutes ago.

  I took one of the taxis waiting outside the Address Hotel and gave the driver instructions to my apartment. I lived in an apartment block next to the Ibn Battuta Gate Hotel, just off the Sheikh Zayed Highway. The location suited me perfectly. It was close to the metro station, and there was a shopping mall across the road. Life was easy in Dubai.

  I paid the taxi driver after he drove up the ramp and stopped outside the hotel’s main entrance.

  I nodded at the doorman, who was one of the regulars, but felt too tense to smile. Inside the hotel, I turned left to the residential apartments, ignoring the tourists gathered in the main hotel lobby.

  I jabbed my finger on the green button, calling the lift impatiently. When the doors opened, a couple who lived along my corridor emerged, and I gritted my teeth and tried to force a smile.

  Before they could initiate a conversation, I quickly cut them off. “Nice to see you. Must rush, sorry.”

  I stepped into the lift and pressed the button so the doors would close and cut me off from prying eyes and people who might want to chat.

  Alone in the mirrored lift, I clutched my bag to my chest and looked at my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, and my dark hair was a mess. I raked a hand through the tangles, making it look even worse.

  Had I imagined it? I wanted to look at the picture again, but I was paranoid I would do something stupid like press the wrong button and delete the photograph.

  The lift dinged as it reached the sixth floor, and I exited before the doors were fully open. My sandals slapped along the marble corridor as I walked to my apartment. One of my neighbours was carrying a bag of rubbish to the chute, but I lowered my head and avoided eye contact to head off any conversation.
r />   I pulled my proximity card out of my purse and held it to the pad on the door. When it clicked, I pushed down the handle and staggered inside, shutting the door behind me and leaning back against the cool wood.

  I hadn’t been running or even walking that fast, but I was out of breath. My hands were shaking as I lifted my bag in front of me and set it on top of the island in the centre of my small kitchen.

  The main living area of the apartment was open plan. Only the bedrooms and bathrooms were behind closed doors. The windows were tinted to keep the heat out, and the furnishings were dark as were the floor tiles, which meant despite the dazzling light outside, the apartment was dimly lit. I switched on the light and then reached for my phone.

  Even though I’d looked at it twice now, the image of Jenna still stole my breath away.

  I took my time, focusing on every inch of her face, making sure I hadn’t made a mistake.

  I was still avidly gazing at the photograph when there was a knock at the door, which made me jump.

  I left the phone on the counter and walked to the door, using the peephole to look and see who was outside.

  It was Jose, the property manager. In front of him was a large container of water for my water cooler. I’d forgotten I’d asked him to bring me some more water when I’d left for brunch.

  The tap water in Dubai was desalinated, and although it was fine for washing and cooking, many people wanted bottled, or what was commonly referred to as sweet water to drink. Most apartments came with a water cooler, and the water was cheap to buy.

  I considered ignoring him, but Jose would have known I’d only just got home. The last thing I wanted was for him to let himself in to check everything was okay.

  I tried to relax and pulled open the door.

  “Thanks, Jose,” I said as he came in, lugging the heavy water container.

  “Shall I put it on for you?” he asked cheerfully.

  I wanted to be on my own as soon as possible, and there was still water left in the old container on the cooler.