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

sure. We’ve identified the car the man was driving, and an officer is on her way to the registered owner’s address as we speak. It’s in New Romney, so it might take a little while, but I’ll let you know as soon as I hear.’

‘OK. Any news on Niamh?’

‘No. I’m afraid we’ve had to stand down the PCSOs, but I’ve briefed late turn to carry out regular checks on the warehouse. It’s the best we can do. If Niamh saw the patrol car last night, I’m guessing she’s long gone, anyway.’

He was probably right. I thanked him, ended the call and fired off a text to Melanie.

It’s not her.

I ran Nate’s bath, found clean pyjamas and laid out his uniform for the following day. I moved from room to room with an almost zombie-like precision, but inside my heart was racing and my imagination was in overdrive. It was as if I was standing at a junction with half a dozen paths ahead of me, all leading towards the distant horizon. Each path represented a different future, not just for Immy, but for us as a family.

Immy dead. Immy alive, but damaged beyond recognition by events too horrific to contemplate. The end of a marriage, a family splintered. Or reconciliation and a Disney-like happy ever after.

It seemed to me, as I towel-dried Nate’s hair and squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush, that the path I took hinged on the decisions I made now. I could sit by and let life dictate to me, watching from the sidelines as the police continued to search for Immy, but that wasn’t my style. I was a doer; I got things done.

The front door clicked open as I kissed Nate goodnight.

‘Is that Dad?’ he asked, throwing off the duvet and swinging his legs out of bed.

I sighed, knowing there was no way Nate would go to sleep anytime soon, not once Stuart had revved him up. ‘Sounds like it. Why don’t you see?’

He skipped out of the room and thundered down the stairs. I followed more slowly, picking up dirty clothes from his floor on the way. I found them both in the kitchen. Stuart had a bottle of beer in his hand and was listening as Nate told him about his day.

Stuart’s gaze flickered in my direction. ‘Any news?’

I didn’t want to mention the potential sighting of Immy in front of Nate. ‘Nothing that can’t wait. Oh, and Melanie popped round.’

His body stiffened, the bottle halfway to his lips. ‘She did?’

‘You know Melanie. Anything to help.’ I smiled a smile that didn’t reach my eyes and stalked out of the room.

Chapter Thirty

Dusk fell just after nine o’clock. It was my cue to leave.

‘I’m popping out,’ I announced.

Stuart frowned. ‘At this time of night?’

‘There’s a file I need to pick up from the office. And I might stay and get some work done while it’s quiet.’

‘What if the police call?’

‘So, you’re allowed to go out and I’m not?’ I took a deep breath. Picking a fight wouldn’t help anyone. ‘Sorry, forget I said that. If they do, phone me. And I’m not sure how long I’ll be, so don’t wait up.’

Not waiting for an answer, I let myself out of the house. Inside the car, I rested my head on the steering wheel for a second, then started the engine. But instead of turning right towards our Hersden headquarters, I headed up the High Street towards the Stodmarsh Road and our old warehouse on the outskirts of Littlebourne, around four miles away.

If the police didn’t have the manpower to keep a watch on the warehouse, I would do it myself. There was no way I was letting Niamh slip through my fingers, because she was the link that would lead me to Immy.

As I turned onto the main Canterbury to Sandwich Road, I pressed hard on the accelerator and the Porsche surged forwards, as powerful as a racehorse out of the gates. For a moment nothing mattered other than the sheer breathtaking speed of my car as the dial hit seventy, eighty and then ninety miles per hour. I eased up as the car approached a hundred. Being pulled over by the police was not part of my plan, and soon I was cruising along at a sedate fifty-five.

Reaching the industrial estate in a little under ten minutes, I drove past the turning and pulled into a farm track just beyond it. I parked in a gateway, turned my phone onto silent and clambered out. The click of the central locking sounded unnaturally loud in the velvety darkness and I froze, my head cocked to one side. But all I could hear was the rustle of wind in the two oak trees that stood, solid and imposing, on either side of the gate.

I stood for a few minutes as my eyes adjusted to the dark, trying to get my bearings. A field of wheat lay between me and the industrial estate. Although it was only the middle of June, it was already knee high and would be like wading through water. I switched my phone light on and waved it over the wheat in a sweeping arc. The spindly beam fell on a tractor track that cut through the crop as straight as a Roman road, and I climbed the gate into the field and followed it.

The field was only a couple of hundred metres across, but it felt much further. The ground was uneven and pitted with flints. Halfway across, my foot slipped down a rabbit hole and I almost landed headfirst in the wheat.

My heart was racing as the stark, angular lines of the warehouses loomed over me. The estate had been thrown up in the eighties and comprised eight industrial units either side of a small, private road. It was home to an eclectic mix of businesses, from a gearbox specialist to an artisan baker.

Our old warehouse was on the far side, tucked behind the bakery. I weighed up