Miss No One by Mark Ayre (interesting books to read TXT) 📕

“Come on,” sad Abbie. “I ask myself why Orion needed to kidnap Isabella and it makes me think of Hammond. Maybe they had a corrupt DCI in their pocket but he died in a home invasion. That would explain why they had to pivot. Plan B was a kidnap because they didn’t have time to find and bride another corrupt cop of Hammond’s rank."

Still unsure of herself, Christine temporarily lowered her phone. Abbie made sure not to reveal any relief or happiness at this action. With steady eyes, she watched the police officer, waiting.

"You said Isabella was all that mattered," said Christine. "She was the priority."

"I did," said Abbie. "And I meant it."

"In which case you should leave this alone. Who cares what the kidnappers want? Who cares if he robs the mob, those bloody Lucky Draw monsters? What does any of it matter so long as Ndidi gets Isabella back? So long as that poor child ends up safe?"

Abbie met Christine's eye and saw such genuine concern there. This was no trick. This young detective cared about helping people. About making things right.

"I have a file stored in the cloud," said Abbie. "Earlier, I asked Ana to download it. If you give her your email address, she'll hit send, and you can take a look."

This stumped Christine. "What file? What are you talking about?"

“It's every bit of information I've gathered about the Beckers, from the mother Margaret's childhood to Orion's disappearance. Within is a section on all of the crimes they are known to have committed. And in some cases, as I think you'll see, "crimes" is not a strong enough word. I don't mean to sound dramatic, but "atrocities" might be more appropriate."

Ana had withdrawn her phone and was logging into her emails. Earlier she had downloaded the file at Abbie’s suggestion. Christine looked from Ana's moving fingers to Abbie's earnest expression.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"You should sit down," said Abbie. "Drink your wine. I'll get myself a water, something for Ana if she wants it. With your permission, of course. You just need to give us your email address."

Abbie stepped across the room, putting herself between Christine and the kitchen, with Christine between the sofa and Abbie.

"You tell me what you mean," the detective said. "I want to hear you say it."

"You know what I’m saying but okay," said Abbie. "As you'll see from the file, the Beckers show neither mercy nor remorse. Their exploits made them rich, but money never excited them. They thrived on undermining the so-called best security systems in the world, they relished outwitting and outrunning large scale police operations, and they delighted in both ending and destroying lives. If stilling one heart broke another, they enjoyed it all the more."

Abbie sighed. Looked to Ana, then back to Christine.

"They were all the same. Orion is as sick as his siblings, who were as vile as their mother. I've never met him, but I know him, and by knowing him, I understand that when he has what he wants from Ndidi, he won't give that poor father his daughter back."

Abbie took a breath and forced herself to continue.

"He'll murder that poor little girl with her father watching. And he'll laugh while he does it."

Twenty-Five

For a few seconds, the women opposite Abbie could do nothing but take these words in.

He'll murder that poor little girl with her father watching. And he'll laugh while he does it.

Then Christine released a sob, stumbled backwards as though struck, and collapsed to the sofa.

Ana said, "Actually, I think I could go for a glass of wine. If anyone's offering. Though vodka would be better. Only if someone's offering. Or if they’re not.”

Abbie was closest to the kitchen but looked to the homeowner for consent. Christine took a few more seconds to gather herself, then held a hand towards Ana.

"Get that email ready to go and give it here. I'll enter my address."

Ana glanced at Abbie. Then, as though remembering she didn't need permission, returned to her phone and did as Christine asked.

The shaken detective leaned over the sofa arm to grab her glass and drain what remained of her wine. Standing, she handed the empty to Abbie.

“You can’t know it’s Orion Becker.”

Abbie couldn’t. But admitting as much would allow Christine to have doubts about working with Abbie, so she said nothing. Guessing Christine would fill in the silence with what she most dreaded to hear.

At last, Christine nodded as though Abbie had revealed a piece of information that proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were dealing with Becker.

"One to the left of the cupboard under the sink,” Christine said. “Think there are some spirits in there. Probably vodka. Glasses are in the cupboard above that. I'd do it myself, but... my legs feel a little weak right now."

Abbie understood. "Sit down," she said.

While Ana handed her phone to Christine, Abbie went to the kitchen. She crouched beside the cupboard the detective had indicated. In here, she found three bottles, one of which did contain vodka. It was unopened, so Abbie unscrewed the cap and broke the seal.

Taking the bottle, she stood and placed it on the counter. By her head, another wooden door opened to reveal the glassware. Abbie retrieved two whiskey tumblers and a pint glass. Into the tumblers, she poured double, or possibly triple, measures. She filled the glass with water.

It wasn't that she didn't want a drink. Though she was the one to deliver the information regarding what she expected Orion to do once Ndidi has outlived his usefulness, it had still made her dwell on it. That poor innocent girl, to Abbie known only via dreams and pictures, crying, screaming, begging, as Orion laughed, as he ended her life...

Yes, Abbie could use a drink, but she didn't drink on missions. She'd stuck to that credo through some awful situations, situations where it seemed only drink could numb the pain or