Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

father had been, wiped out of the memory banks. And Ronan’s main problem? He couldn’t forget.

Ronan didn’t reply; he couldn’t. Instead he sat in front of his unwanted drink and waited for her to continue. There was too much history between them. Now he wasn’t sure if he knew how to put it right. Ellie remained silent by his side, her blank expression telling nothing of what she was thinking. She was his priority. If he could only discover why she’d run away, he might be able to protect her from whatever it was that had caused her to flee. He’d been so near to finding out the truth …

‘So, I take it there’s a reason why you’ve abducted a child, is there, Ronan? Because I’d very much like to know what it is.’ His mother placed her empty mug back on the table, her elbows resting on the surface, her linen dress pulling at the shoulders. She had a wardrobe full of the things and rarely wore anything else unless she was either cleaning the bathroom or prepared for bed. He hated them nearly as much as he hated her hairstyle, the memory of how it had used to flow down her back something he’d relegated to the cupboard in his head with a do not enter sign firmly in place. Any more skeletons and he’d have to get planning permission for an extension, he mused, his expression as grim as his thoughts.

‘You do know that there’s an APB out for her, don’t you, Ronan? The whole of the UK police are on high alert – she was even the top news item this morning on the BBC. There is no way that someone didn’t see something.’

‘She has a name, you know, Mother. Ellie. Ellie Fry.’ He risked another quick glance at his mum, not that it would tell him anything. She was the master of containment. Nothing ever got past her set features and composed lips. The only time it had was the day his life had come tumbling down – the day they’d picked him up from St Gildas following his expulsion. He’d never forget her expression of disappointment; it was what he thought about last thing at night before sleep claimed him. That and … other things. Shifting his head, he stared across at Ellie. He couldn’t tell much from her averted face. All that was visible was her ear and part of her jaw, but her jaw was rigid, her skin the palest he’d ever seen it. He wanted to reach out and take her perfectly formed clenched hand in his and tell her that it would be all right. But that would be a lie.

‘Leave him alone.’ The sound of Ellie’s thread of a voice almost had him knock over his drink in surprise. She lifted her head, her eyes unwavering as she sought out his mother’s face. ‘He was only trying to help. I think—’

‘Ellie, you don’t have to—’

But his mother interrupted him, her hand on his arm, her fingers firm but gentle. ‘Ignore my son, Ellie, and finish what you were going to say. No one is going to harm you, least of all me. You think …?’

Ellie dropped her head, all the fight suddenly draining away like an unblocking sink. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ was all she said, her words coming out in a mumbled rush.

‘And that’s why I’ve parked Ronan’s brothers with friends and taken the day off work – in order to help you to make the right decision. You must realise that the police will find you sooner rather than later. Let me help sort out what’s wrong and we’ll take it from there.’

The silence was intense, but only for a moment. Ellie sliced through the building tension with her next words.

‘I want my mummy.’

She dropped her head onto her folded arms, the sound of muffled sobs the only thing to be heard apart from the dripping tap and his mother’s deep sighing breath. Ronan felt as if someone had gained access through his chest wall and was even now attacking his heart with a shredder. It was finally his turn to meet his mother’s steadfast gaze, his own as easy to read as someone flicking through a large print book with a magnifying glass.

Help her.

Chapter 43

Gaby

Tuesday 4 August, 12.30 p.m. St Asaph

Gaby dumped her bag under the desk she usually used in the incident room, the one nearest the coffee machine. She didn’t even think about going up to her office; there would be little point. She needed to be where the action was and that meant the stale room with the window pushed open to the max in order to try and circulate the solid wall of hot air that seemed to have taken up residence.

After slipping off her jacket, she placed it on the back of her chair and settled behind her desk. She ignored her laptop for once, pushing it to one side and removing a thick A4 pad from the top drawer. Computers were all very well but she had some serious thinking to do and there was nothing better than paper and pencil to kick her brain into action. But instead of drawing up her usual timeline, she decided to try a different way of organising the information they had, to see if it would add something new to the mix. She wrote down the names of the detectives working the case as her starting point.

Jax hadn’t turned up anything of use from the neighbours on the estate, which was a surprise but not as surprising as finding that he wasn’t behind his desk. She picked up her phone to send him a quick text, her attention moving on to Marie and that unfortunate episode with Ivo Morgan. She would have preferred to have her sitting in on the interview with Janice Stevens but that couldn’t be helped. Diane had done very well as a substitute, she thought,