No One I Knew by A McDine (best e book reader for android .TXT) 📕

of his nose and smiled. ‘Three-year-olds rarely go far. We usually find them tucked away in a hidden corner of the house or garden after a game of hide and seek.’

Nate screwed his face up. ‘We weren’t playing hide and seek today. Immy was playing Pooh sticks.’

The younger officer raised an eyebrow. ‘Pooh sticks?’

‘Two gates from our garden lead directly onto the Stour,’ I explained. ‘The children throw sticks through the first gate into the river, then race down to the second gate to see whose stick floated downstream the fastest.’

Tell them about the gate.

I cleared my throat. ‘One gate wasn’t locked. I found Immy’s Peppa Pig in the water below it.’

The two officers exchanged a look, and for a second their masks of professionalism slipped, and I saw my shock reflected back at me. The older officer reached for his radio and called for back-up.

Chapter Three

Within half an hour the two officers had searched the house and garden and the wail of sirens once again echoed down the street.

‘The inspector’s pulled out all the stops,’ the younger officer said. He spoke with a rising inflection, as if every sentence was a question. ‘He’s flooded the area with officers. They’re all looking for Immy.’

Stuart, Bill and Melanie were back, and we’d moved to the kitchen, waiting for news that hadn’t come.

‘So why haven’t they found her?’ Stuart said.

‘We’re doing everything we can, Mr Cooper.’

I flicked the kettle on for yet another cup of tea. Not that anyone had drunk their first.

‘Why isn’t the inspector here?’ I asked.

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Cleo. Don’t start,’ Stuart began.

‘I want to understand what’s going on. Is there anything wrong with that?’

‘He’s best back at the nick, Mrs Cooper. It’s easier for him to coordinate the search from there.’

‘Can I talk to him?’ I said.

The officer blinked. ‘I could certainly ask.’ He slipped from the room, returning a couple of minutes later. ‘He’s tucked up at the moment, but Sarge is on her way over.’

Nate sidled over and tugged my skirt. ‘Mummy? What’s for tea?’ His bottom lip trembled. ‘My tummy won’t stop rumbling.’

Melanie leapt up. ‘I’m sure I can rustle you up a sausage sandwich. Will that do the trick?’

He nodded. ‘Thanks, Auntie Mel.’

Melanie had packed the barbecue leftovers into Tupperware containers and stacked them in the fridge in height order. I hadn’t been back outside, but if I had, I would’ve bet my last pound that she’d wiped down the table and swept the crumbs from the patio, too. She made a sausage sandwich, squirting a generous dollop of tomato ketchup between the slices of white bread at Nate’s request. The sight of the blood-red sauce curdled the already churning contents of my stomach and I ran from the room, making it to the downstairs cloakroom just in time.

I rinsed my mouth out with tap water and gripped the edge of the sink as the water swirled around and then down the plughole. Closing my eyes, I saw a series of images. Chubby fingers curled around the twisted wrought iron rods of the gate at the bottom of the garden; red hair, wet and straggly like seaweed, tangled in reeds; a round eye staring glassily at me from the bottom of the riverbed. The images were so vivid that the cloying scent of mock orange filled the room. I slapped my cheeks, took a couple of deep breaths and returned to the kitchen.

A woman in a police uniform had taken my place at the island. The sergeant, I presumed. She stood and smiled. ‘Mrs Cooper,’ she said in a lilting Welsh accent. ‘I’ve been helping coordinate the search for your daughter. I’ve just had confirmation that the police helicopter’s on its way.’

I nodded.

‘I’m sure she’s probably toddled off somewhere, but I do need to ask about the two gates that lead to the river. I believe they’re normally kept locked?’

‘Always,’ I said. ‘We keep the keys here.’ I pointed to a key rack on the wall by the door. ‘They’re the ones with the pom pom keyring.’

‘But I understand one wasn’t locked when you checked it this afternoon? Is there a chance Immy could have climbed onto a chair and taken the keys?’

‘I don’t think so.’ I glanced at Stuart. ‘Do you?’

He shook his head.

‘How else do you access the garden?’ she asked.

‘There’s a gate that leads onto King Street,’ Stuart said. ‘It has a keypad with a code.’

‘But it’s a bit temperamental.’ I shot him a look. ‘We’ve been meaning to get it fixed.’

For a while no-one spoke. Then Bill said, ‘After you’ve searched the immediate area, what next?’

‘We’d like to issue a media appeal. The public are our eyes and ears and, frankly, the more people looking for Immy the better.’

‘Wouldn’t that alert all the local paedophiles that a three-year-old girl is out there all alone?’

‘Stuart!’ I cried.

‘We’ve found media appeals to be very effective in locating vulnerable missing people,’ the sergeant said.

‘Let’s do it.’ I leaned forwards. ‘Tell us what you need.’

‘A recent photo of Immy that we can release with her description and details of the last sighting.’

Stuart was already on his feet and heading out of the kitchen. I knew without asking which photo he would choose. He’d taken it during a trip to Botany Bay in Broadstairs at Whitsun and had placed it in a delicate silver frame on his bedside table. Immy’s red hair was tied in bunches and she was holding an ice cream, her face the picture of happiness. I’d spent most of the day on the phone to our IT guy after our server crashed, taking the website with it. I wished with all my heart that I could turn back the clock and have the day again. I would leave my phone at home and savour every moment.

The floorboards above our heads creaked as Stuart crossed our bedroom to his side of the bed. Back downstairs, he handed the photo to the sergeant.

‘What a pretty girl,’ she said, smiling at me.