Little Boy Lost Read online

  ‘I’ll call Tom and get him to come over,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it won’t be a problem.’

  ‘Good. Sorry, I should have asked … how are things working out between you and Chloe? It’s been a couple of weeks since we last spoke.’

  ‘It’s not been easy to be honest, especially for Chloe. She’s still struggling to come to terms with what’s happened. And who can blame her? She’s been to hell and back.’

  ‘But she’s back where she belongs now, Anna. And you’ll both get there in the end, of that I’m sure.’

  A wedge of anxiety lodged in Anna’s chest when she hung up the phone. She had spent every day of the past month with her daughter and she didn’t feel ready to leave her now and return to work. But in the circumstances, she really had no choice.

  It had been a tough four weeks for both of them, not least because they’d been the focus of frenzied media attention, which was understandable given the level of interest in their story.

  Anna had reluctantly agreed to take part in several press conferences and to give interviews to a number of journalists. After all, the papers and TV news organisations had played a vital part in helping to reunite her with her daughter, and she felt indebted to them.

  The story was still considered to be newsworthy even though there had already been blanket coverage. The latest edition of a popular magazine, which had been delivered that morning, carried one of the interviews Anna had given, and the feature was spread over no fewer than four pages.

  But naturally Chloe had hated being thrust into the limelight, and not only because she was a mere twelve years old. Her life had been turned upside down and she was trying to deal with a tsunami of emotions from grief to the shock of learning that she wasn’t the person she thought she was. For most of the time she suffered in silence, but the tears flowed whenever she was asked about her father and the woman named Sophie who had helped to raise her. The pain and sense of loss was there in her eyes for all to see, and it broke Anna’s heart.

  She had done her best to shield her daughter from the glare of publicity and to make her feel safe, comfortable and loved. But the poor girl had been so traumatised by events that it had proved to be a real challenge. It was only in the past week that Chloe had started to open up and engage with the mother she’d been told had died ten years ago.

  Anna had been granted two months’ compassionate leave and she’d been hopeful that by the end of it they would have formed a much-belated bond. But now she feared that these bloody riots might set them back and shove a dirty great spanner in the works.

  CHAPTER THREE

  As usual Chloe had spent most of the afternoon closeted in her room. It wasn’t the room she had occupied when she’d last lived in the house – up until the age of two. Anna continued to use that room as her study, and the walls were still covered with photos taken before Chloe’s father abducted her. Anna had wanted to leave it be so that Chloe could see that her real mother had never stopped thinking about her … Or given up searching for her.

  This bedroom was a work in progress, and Chloe had yet to put her own stamp on it. Many of the belongings she’d brought from her previous home were still in boxes, including books and posters and some of her clothes.

  The door was ajar so Anna knocked lightly and then eased it open and stepped inside. Chloe was sitting on her bed with her back against the wall. Her knees were up and her precious photo album was resting against them. Anna had laid eyes on the album for the first time a month ago, and it had been a moving experience. It was her daughter’s link to the past, filled with ten years of memories that Anna hadn’t shared with her. And for Anna it was a painful reminder of what she had missed. All those Christmases and birthdays that made a child’s formative years such a joy. They were all there in the photos, but Anna found it hard to look at them without choking up.

  ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’

  Chloe looked up and smiled. It was a half-hearted smile, but Anna was used to that. She knew her daughter needed more time to embrace her new life. Things could only get better.

  Anna crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. The fact that Chloe no longer flinched when she got close was the clearest sign yet that they had made significant progress in the short time they’d had together.

  ‘I’m afraid I have to go out to work,’ Anna said. ‘I know it’s sooner than expected but it can’t be helped.’

  Chloe frowned. She seemed curious rather than alarmed. ‘Is it because of all the rioting?’ she asked.

  Anna chose not to tell her about the boy in the cellar. It would only play on her mind and stir up painful memories of her own kidnap ordeal at the hands of a brutal villain.

  ‘It’s connected to the riots, yes,’ she said. ‘There’s been a serious crime and they need me to take charge of the investigation. But I’m going to call Tom to get him to come and stay with you.’

  ‘He doesn’t need to. I’ll be OK by myself.’

  There was an edge to her voice, but there always was when the conversation turned to Anna’s boyfriend, Tom Bannerman. Chloe had convinced herself he wasn’t happy that she had entered their lives because it made it less likely that he would be allowed to move into the house in the near future.

  For her part, Anna wasn’t sure what to believe, although it was undoubtedly true that it had placed a strain on their relationship. Tom had only stayed overnight on two occasions during the past month and in that time they hadn’t had sex or gone on a date.

  ‘There’s no way I’m leaving you here by yourself,’ Anna said. ‘A lot of bad things are going on out there and I want to be sure you’re safe.’

  Chloe responded with a shrug, so Anna reached out and placed a hand on her knee.

  ‘I love you so much, sweetheart. You know that don’t you?’

  Chloe hesitated, and for a fleeting moment Anna thought she was going to say that she loved her back for the first time. But instead, Chloe nodded and said, ‘I know you do, Mum.’

  Anna was disappointed, but took comfort in the fact that at least her daughter was now calling her Mum. It was something Chloe had struggled with in the beginning. That was because the only mother she had ever really known had plunged to her death from a warehouse roof only four weeks ago.

  ‘I’ll get Tom to make you some dinner and I promise to come home as soon as I can,’ Anna said.

  As Chloe shifted her gaze back to the photo album, Anna’s breath caught in her throat. She still found it hard to look at her daughter without feeling the swell of emotion. They’d been apart for so long and there had been times over the years when she thought she would never see Chloe again. There was still so much they didn’t know about each other, so many unresolved issues.

  One of those issues was that her daughter did not like to be called Chloe. After her father ran off with her, he changed her name to Alice. Alice Miller. She said she preferred that name, which was why Anna referred to her as sweetheart most of the time. She didn’t want to make a big deal of it at this early stage because it was one less thing for her daughter to have to wrap her young mind around.

  Anna knew she had to be patient. Indeed, the child counsellor appointed by social services had warned her that it would be a long, mentally challenging process. Not only was Chloe still shell-shocked from what had happened to her, she was also only weeks away from her thirteenth birthday, so hormones were flooding her developing body and she was facing a storm of social, physical and emotional pressures.

  Not for the first time Anna found herself staring intently at Chloe’s face, mesmerised by the button nose, dimpled chin and bright blue eyes. She had retained most of her baby features and it was amazing how accurate the age progression image of her had turned out to be. Anna had commissioned it on the tenth anniversary of her disappearance and it had been instrumental in bringing her home. The only difference was her hair, which her adoptive mother had recently allowed her to have cut short and dyed blonde.

  ‘You’re do
ing it again,’ Chloe said, without moving her eyes from the album. ‘I told you I don’t like it when you stare at me.’

  Anna laughed. ‘I know and I’m sorry. I just can’t get over the fact that I’ve got you back. And I’m terrified of losing you again.’

  Chloe turned to face her. ‘I don’t want to lose you either,’ she said. ‘You’re all I’ve got.’

  Anna stood up quickly to stop herself crying. Tears came easily these days, usually triggered by something Chloe said or did, or just because she was finding it increasingly difficult to control her feelings.

  ‘I’ll go and ring Tom and then get ready,’ she said. ‘Is there anything you want?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  Anna leaned over and kissed her daughter on the forehead.

  ‘I’m going to take good care of you, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘You’re my world now, and I promise I won’t let any more harm come to you.’

  As she stepped back out of the room, Chloe was still turning the pages of her album, no doubt reliving some of the memories it contained of the times she’d spent with her father and the woman who’d brought her up from the age of two.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Tom was a social worker who always stayed in his office on Fridays to deal with the paperwork he had accumulated during the week. In the seventeen months they’d been dating he had often skived off early to meet Anna for a drink or to come to the house to cook her dinner, and she was pretty confident that she could rely on him to help her out even though it was such short notice.

  ‘No problem,’ he said after she explained the situation over the phone. ‘I’ll have to pop home first but I can probably be there in under an hour.’

  His flat was just over a mile away in Nine Elms, so Anna could live with that. Tom was Mr Reliable, after all. She had never known him to let her down or disappoint her. It was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him – he was the exact opposite of her ex-husband.

  Matthew had been selfish, short-tempered, egotistical and controlling. Tom, on the other hand, was kind, calm and generous.

  The pair were also miles apart physically. Tom was a six-foot hunky black man with tight curly hair and the most amazing come-to-bed eyes. At forty-seven he was four years older than she was.

  Matthew had been five foot six and pale-skinned, with severely receding fair hair. If he hadn’t been murdered three years ago he would now be forty-four.

  ‘Are you sure Chloe won’t mind me babysitting?’ Tom asked. ‘I always get the impression she doesn’t like having me around.’

  ‘It’s your imagination, Tom. I’ve told you that. She’s just finding it hard to relate to anyone right now, including me.’

  ‘Well I hope you’re right. For both our sakes I need her to like me.’

  ‘I can assure you she does. We have to give her time to settle in to her new life. It’s all so overwhelming for her. And scary.’

  ‘I can appreciate that, Anna. And I have to say that I think she’s coping really well, considering she’s only twelve. She’s a remarkable girl … You must be so proud of her.’

  ‘I am. I only wish I could wave a magic wand and take away all the pain that’s still eating her up inside.’

  ‘You will,’ Tom said. ‘It’s early days, and it’s clear you’re doing a good job. It’s such a shame your compassionate leave is being cut short.’

  Anna sighed. ‘I know, but it can’t be helped. It’s really kicking off out there, and no way can I just sit back and watch it on the telly.’

  She told him then what Nash had said about the homes of some police officers coming under attack.

  ‘Well don’t you worry about Chloe,’ he said. ‘If anyone comes to your house to cause trouble I’ll make sure they regret it.’

  Anna was comforted by his words, and as she started to get herself ready, she reflected once again on how lucky she was to have him in her life. But an unwelcome thought had crept into her mind: Would he stick around?

  Even before Chloe came back into her life, Tom had begun to feel insecure. He had wanted to move in with her, but she had resisted, telling him, truthfully, that she wasn’t ready. She was content with the arrangement they had because it gave her a degree of independence. It meant she’d been able to spend much of her spare time searching for clues to Chloe’s whereabouts, mainly through social media appeals, the FindChloe Facebook page she’d set up, and interviews with newspapers and magazines.

  She took the view that cohabiting would not only have made things more difficult, but that it wouldn’t have been fair on Tom either.

  However, in recent months she had begun to fear that unless she agreed to move their relationship forward, there was a chance Tom would get fed up waiting and end it. In fact she had almost reached the point where she was going to invite him to move in.

  But as soon as she got Chloe back she knew she couldn’t do it. At least not yet.

  Her daughter took priority over everything else. Including the love of her life.

  *

  It didn’t take Anna long to get ready. She kept the make-up to a minimum and changed into a black polo sweater and navy trousers. She dragged her long dark hair back into a ponytail and put on her three-quarter-length overcoat. October had arrived with a vengeance and she wanted to be prepared for what was almost certainly going to be a long, cold night.

  She went back into the living room to pick up her shoulder bag, and caught the tail-end of an interview with Gary Trimble, London’s Police Commissioner, who was appealing for calm.

  ‘The death of Grace Fuller was an unfortunate accident,’ he was saying. ‘It in no way justifies this mindless criminality. I would urge those responsible to think what they’re doing to this great city and to community relations.’

  Anna was in no doubt that his words would fall on deaf ears. The blue touch-paper had been lit and the riots were not going to end any time soon.

  She knew she had to try to view them as a distraction and to focus on the boy who had died in the pub cellar, but it wasn’t going to be easy – that much was obvious.

  She was on her way out the front door, having told Chloe that Tom was on his way over, when her phone rang. She smiled when she noted the caller ID: it was DI Max Walker, her most trusted wingman, who was already at the crime scene.

  ‘Hello, guv,’ he said. ‘The boss told me he’d called you in. I’m sorry you’re having to cut short your leave.’

  ‘Can’t be helped. I’m just leaving the house. Should be there within fifteen minutes, traffic and rioters permitting.’

  ‘OK. I’m just ringing to let you know that we’re pretty sure who the boy is.’

  ‘That was quick.’

  ‘Well it wasn’t difficult because I recognised him from the photographs that were plastered all over the papers on Tuesday morning. I reckon he’d still be front-page news if it wasn’t for the riots.’

  Anna felt a pang of dread. ‘You’re not talking about Jacob Rossi? Son of Mark Rossi?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Oh shit. I was hoping that story would have a happy bloody ending.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Anna checked with central control before setting off. Camberwell was only about two miles away, but she wanted advice on the safest route to take.

  She felt a shiver grab hold of her spine when she was told that rioting had broken out around Vauxhall tube station and along South Lambeth Road, both within walking distance of the house.

  She sent this information to Tom in a text and urged him to take care. He responded instantly:

  I won’t bother going home. Will go straight there xx

  Anna let out a breath. She didn’t want Chloe to be alone in the house for too long. That wouldn’t be fair, or sensible bearing in mind what Nash had said.

  Control’s advice was to approach Camberwell from the north, but to nevertheless expect some trouble along the way.

  She drove with the radio on and listened to continuous news coverage.
But at times it was a struggle to hear what was being said because of the urgent screams of police sirens and the roar of helicopters circling overhead.

  The rush hour was already well underway and the roads were busy. It seemed incongruous to Anna that life carried on as normal in those parts of the city that hadn’t so far been affected by the rioting.

  The impression she got from the news was that some neighbourhoods were effectively lawless. There were reports of several buildings being razed to the ground in Peckham, police officers being attacked in Deptford, and a Sainsbury’s supermarket being looted in Clapham. And a mob of masked youths was now gathering outside MIT headquarters in Wandsworth where Anna and her team were based. The unrest had also reignited racial tensions in the city with white and black gangs fighting each other, and a black shopkeeper had been beaten up in Lewisham in what was being described as a racist attack.

  The more Anna heard the more her heart rate increased and her breathing deepened. Something in her gut told her that these riots were going to be more widespread and destructive than those of 2011. There weren’t enough police officers to cope, and social media would almost certainly play a more effective role in fanning the flames of anarchy.

  Only one death had so far been confirmed – the boy in the cellar. But Anna found it impossible to believe there wouldn’t be more over the coming hours and days. The media hadn’t yet been told about this first fatality, but the news would soon be out there, and Anna would have to do her best to hold back the details until the parents had been informed.

  If DI Walker was right about the identity of the lad – and she had no reason to doubt him – then they would later be heading over to Bromley and the home of Mark Rossi and his wife. Anna had never met Rossi, but like millions of other people she knew quite a lot about him from his appearances on the television.

  The man was a Celebrity with a capital C, one of the most popular and versatile TV presenters in the UK. He’d hosted game shows, a travel series and a number of one-off light entertainment programmes on various channels. His last screen appearance had been on Tuesday morning when Anna had watched him make an emotional appeal on BBC news for information on the whereabouts of his ten-year-old son, Jacob.