Discarded by M. Hunter (the reading list .txt) 📕

her team of officers in high-visibility vests, who quickly gather in a circle around her.

‘What is all this?’ Tina asks quietly, her eyes widening at the sheer volume of officers who’ve been tasked with an appearance tonight.

‘Mrs Neville,’ Cavendish says, taking her arm and deliberately leading her away from me, ‘we believe we know where Jo-Jo is, and I’ve tasked my team with securing the area so we can catch the people responsible for her abduction and false imprisonment. Now, she is some way away, and so I’d ask that you wait with Robin here until we’ve got her in our safe custody, and then we’ll be able to provide you with more of—’

‘No,’ Tina interrupts. ‘I want to know where she is. Who has her? I want my daughter back. Emma?’

She thrusts out a hand and her fingers twitch, beckoning me over. I rush across and take her hand, ready to do whatever I can to keep her calm whilst Cavendish and her team complete their work.

‘Why am I not surprised to see you here?’ Cavendish snaps. ‘I suppose I have you to thank for the camera crews setting up at the front of the police station too?’

I frown. ‘What cameras? No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Of course not. Why would a publicity-hungry writer want a media circus gathered as she attempts to promote yet more of her drivel?’

My mouth drops at the barb, but she speaks again before I have chance to think of something to defend myself.

‘And how exactly did you catch wind of what was going on this evening?’

She must catch me glance in Rick’s direction.

‘Ah, I see,’ she says. ‘Seems you’ll do anyone as well as anything for a story then.’

Rick takes an unnecessary step forward, but I stop him with my raised hand.

‘I asked her to meet me here,’ Tina says loudly. ‘She’s become a real friend these last couple of days, and if anyone can help me understand all this madness, it’s her.’

It feels like such a false statement to make, but I’m relieved when Cavendish finally takes her glare from me.

‘Whatever,’ Cavendish says. ‘Your friend can wait here with you then. As soon as we have news, we’ll phone—’

‘No,’ Tina interjects. ‘Jo-Jo is my little girl, and I want to be there the second you find her. She needs her mum, so like it or not, I’m coming with you.’

I can feel the heat of Cavendish’s fury emanating from her, but Tina isn’t done yet.

‘And Emma is coming with me to make sure that you lot don’t miss any obvious clues. She’s good at stuff like that.’

She squeezes my hand and nods at me, as if expecting me to echo her thoughts when nothing is further from my mind.

Cavendish opens her mouth to argue but then surveys the perimeter and can see her team in their cars itching to get going.

She sighs audibly. ‘Do what you like. Robin will make sure the two of you aren’t in the way.’ She turns to Myers. ‘Hitch a ride with Rick Underwood, seeing as he and Emma seem to be such a close couple.’

With that, Cavendish stomps away and climbs into the back of the lead vehicle which tears out of the walled area a moment later, its blue lights flashing silently.

Chapter Twenty-Five Then

Hayling Island, Hampshire

Joanna dropped her spoon into the bowl and used the last lump of bread to soak up the final dregs of the tomato soup from the edge, before depositing it in her mouth with a satisfied smile. Tucking a lock of her thick brown hair behind her ear, she looked up at the kindly Reverend Peter Saltzing, who was smiling warmly at her as he watched her chewing the bread.

‘How long did the police say they would be?’ she asked, surprised that she’d managed to finish the soup without them arriving.

‘Shouldn’t be much longer,’ he said, glancing at his wrist watch nervously before collecting her bowl and plate. ‘Would you like anything else to eat? Or perhaps a cup of tea to calm your shock?’

‘Tea would be great, thanks,’ she said, so relieved that the first house she’d called upon belonged to a man of the cloth, and not some kind of pervert.

‘Well, why don’t you go and wait in the living room next door while I fix us both a drink? I’ve got the fire on in there. There’s no television, I’m afraid, but the wireless is playing.’

Her brow ruffled.

‘Sorry, I meant the radio is on,’ he said, chuckling at himself for the outdated terminology.

Joanna wiped her lips with the scrap of kitchen roll he’d left on the side for her, and headed back into the corridor, following it until she could feel the air warming as she approached the main room. Twice the size of the kitchen, it had a two-seat sofa with an old-fashioned pattern of oranges, yellows, and browns, like the sort of furniture she’d seen in old pictures her mum would show her of what life was like back in the 70s. There was an unpleasant smell too – like rotting fruit – so she focused on breathing through her mouth, rather than her nose.

She could hear actors reading lines on the radio but it wasn’t of much interest to her, and so she sat down on the sofa and curled her legs up.

‘It’s okay to have a nap if you’re feeling tired,’ the vicar said, draping a small blanket over her legs, nodding towards the mug of tea he’d placed on the small table to the left of the sofa. ‘It sounds as though you’ve been through quite the ordeal.’

‘I just want to go home,’ she said, and he nodded his understanding.

‘I’m sure you do, my dear. One cannot underestimate the support of family and loved ones in these scary times.’

She smiled at him; it was nice that he wasn’t talking down to her like a child, as some of her teachers occasionally did,