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

to colour the rest of my life.’ She sounded like she was reading straight from the pages of a self-help book.

I frowned. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ Burying such a toxic event might be a defence mechanism, a way of coping, but long term it would eat her up inside, as insidious as cancer, I was sure of it. ‘I can get you help when we’re home. Private counselling or something. We don’t need to tell the police. In fact, no one need know except you and I.’

‘Thank you, but I’m sure, and you won’t talk me out of it,’ she said.

I studied her face. She was pale but calm. Resolute. She’d obviously decided, and who was I to judge whether she was right. Only time would tell.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘But on one condition. If you change your mind and decide you need help, you will come to me, won’t you? I feel responsible for what happened.’

‘You do?’ she said, surprised.

‘We’re supposed to be looking after you, and I encouraged you to go to a party on the beach with people you’d never met before. Of course I feel responsible.’

She smiled weakly. ‘You shouldn’t. It wasn’t your fault.’

This morning she’d appeared for breakfast looking, if not exactly cheerful, at least composed, and as we’d trooped out of the villa with our luggage, she’d thanked Melanie for a lovely week.

‘Come on, Cleo!’ Stuart called from the car.

I turned back to Melanie. ‘Thanks so much for everything. It’s been wonderful.’ We air-kissed and I followed Nate into the car. Stuart turned on the ignition and raised a hand in farewell as he pulled away.

I glanced in the wing mirror as the car bumped down the track, surprised to see Melanie staring after us, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was freezing, even though it was eighty degrees in the shade.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

WEDNESDAY 16 JUNE

‘As you know, we’ve had an overwhelming response to the media appeal,’ DI Jones said. ‘This afternoon someone called in to say they’d seen a young girl matching Immy’s description in Folkestone. She was with an older man at the Lower Leas Coastal Park. Do you know it?’

It was an adventure play area nestled between the cliffs and the beach, with slides and towers and climbing walls. ‘Yes, we took Nate and Immy there last summer.’

‘A woman with her kids reported seeing the girl and man using the sand diggers. She went in search of one of the park wardens to report it, but when they returned to the spot the man and child had disappeared.’

‘Why the hell didn’t she confront him?’ I cried.

‘She couldn’t be one hundred percent sure the child was Immy, only that she looked a bit like her, and she was concerned because the man looked too old to be her father.’ The DI broke away to bark an order at one of his subordinates, then came back. ‘Sorry about that. Where were we?’

‘You were telling me we might have found Immy and lost her again,’ I said through clenched teeth.

‘We have a patrol on its way to the park, and we’ve sent an officer to the council offices to check the CCTV. The entire area’s covered in cameras, and we know the exact time they were in the sandpit, so as soon as we have the footage, I’ll send it to you so you can confirm if it’s Immy or not. I don’t want you to get your hopes up because it may well not be her. But at least it shows that everyone is keeping an eye out for her. And that can only work to our advantage.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ I said, loosening my grip on the phone. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have more.’

I replaced my phone carefully on the table.

‘What’s happened?’ Melanie said.

‘They’ve had a potential sighting. Someone saw a girl who looked like Immy in Folkestone with an older man.’

Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my God.’

‘Don’t over-react. It won’t be her. Why would a paedophile take a child they’d snatched to a busy children’s play area in the middle of summer?’ I checked the time on my phone. ‘I need to pick Nate up from school.’

‘Of course,’ she said, jumping to her feet. ‘I’ll leave you in peace.’

She gathered her bag and headed down the hallway towards the front door.

‘Mel?’ I called.

She turned towards me. ‘What’s the matter?’

I rocked on my feet. ‘Nothing. Thanks for popping by.’

‘Anytime.’ She waved and let herself out of the door. I leaned against the wall and stared up at the ceiling as her car accelerated away.

Nate was tucking into a bowl of macaroni cheese when my phone pinged with a text from DI Jones. I grabbed it and clicked on the picture he’d sent. It was a grainy black and white still showing the backs of a man and young girl in the sandpit at the coastal park.

Even though I couldn’t see his face, I would have said the man was at least seventy by his slight stoop and the way he was dressed - checked long-sleeved shirt, tailored chinos and cushioned leather shoes. The girl was harder to make out. I held my breath as I zoomed in. She was sitting on the digger, her pudgy hands on the control levers, the bucket half-immersed in the sand. She had long hair that cascaded over her shoulders and she was wearing dark-coloured shorts, a light-coloured T-shirt and a sunhat.

My phone rang, and I tramped into the hallway and closed the door.

‘Is it her?’ DI Jones asked.

‘No.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘Her hair’s all wrong. Immy’s is much thicker and about four inches shorter. Immy’s also slimmer than this girl. And what kind of paedophile bothers with a sunhat?’

The detective sighed. ‘I had a horrible feeling it wasn’t her as soon as I saw the footage, but we had to check.’

‘Of course. What happens now?’

‘We’re running quick-time inquiries to be