In Safe Hands: A D.C.I Anna Tate thriller that will have you on the edge of your seat

‘I went to answer it,’ Sarah said. ‘The men were standing outside. I could see them through the glass doors. I spoke to them through the intercom and asked them who they were and what they wanted. At that point all three held up identity cards and the older guy said he was Detective Inspector Roger Milton from Rotherhithe CID. He was the only one of them to speak and he had a South London accent. He introduced the others as DS Willis and DC Moore and said he needed to talk to the proprietor Sarah Ramsay about a private matter.’

‘So he didn’t know that was you,’ Anna said.

‘Apparently not. He said they wouldn’t keep me long so, like a fool, I opened the doors. I know it was a stupid thing to do. I should have called the police station to confirm that they were who they said they were but I was caught off-guard and I didn’t think. I was curious and I should have been suspicious.’

‘So what happened then?’

‘As soon as the doors were open all three of them burst in and at the same time produced pistols from under their jackets. They warned me that if I moved or screamed they would shoot me.’

Anna looked at her notes again.

‘You told me earlier that this man Milton then asked you how many children and staff were in.’

‘That’s correct.’

‘And then he told you to walk back into the playroom and to herd the children into one of the smaller rooms so that he could speak to you and the teachers.’

‘They put their guns back under their jackets and made me act as though nothing was wrong,’ Sarah said. ‘I had to tell Emma, Paige and Tasha that they were police officers and wanted to talk to us without the children being present.’

‘We thought it was strange,’ Emma said. ‘But the fact is they looked like policemen and so we thought we ought to comply. I ushered the kids into the Quiet Room and one of the younger men went inside with them.’

‘That was when they whipped out their guns,’ Paige said. ‘It was terrifying. The one calling himself Milton said that if we didn’t do as we were told he would shoot Sarah in the head and then start picking off the children. So we felt we had no choice.’

‘So what did Tasha do?’ Anna asked.

‘She didn’t do anything until we were inside the storeroom,’ Sarah said. ‘Milton took a plastic bag from his pocket and told us to put our mobile phones inside it. I did and so did Emma. Paige didn’t have hers with her and as the guy was telling her to turn around Tasha leapt at him.

‘But she wasn’t fast enough. He managed to step back and hit her with the butt of his gun. Not once but three times. She collapsed on the floor and he backed out of the room and locked the door behind him. We were all screaming and shouting and trying to revive Tasha. After about ten minutes I realised she had her mobile phone in her jeans pocket so I used it to call the emergency service.’

Anna was satisfied that their story was consistent with the one they had told earlier. It was far more detailed now, though, and raised many more questions.

Were the guns the men used real or fake?

Had the children happily trooped out of the nursery and got on the bus believing they were in for a special treat?

Had one or more of the men visited the nursery before today to check the interior layout?

Or had they received information from someone who was familiar with it – someone such as a parent or even a member of staff?

This last question was an uncomfortable one and filled Anna with a shuddering sense of unease.

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_7eb2a474-e1e0-5171-8094-9241b3109124)

Ruth had been joined by three other mothers and two fathers who had rushed straight to Peabody Street after being told what had happened to their children.

They were gathered in the community centre cafeteria where a bald detective inspector named Walker had told them that his boss, DCI Anna Tate, would soon provide them with an update. But this had done nothing to quell their distress and anger.

Daniel Neville’s mum Belinda was so anxious that she’d vomited on the floor. And Grace Tenant’s dad Kenneth had threatened to punch a uniformed officer who told him he couldn’t go next door into the nursery.

Ruth was beside herself with worry and only half aware of what was going on around her. Her voice was hoarse from crying and there was a lead weight in her chest.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw Liam’s face, and tears began to form, while at the same time various disturbing scenarios played out in her mind.

What if Liam and the others had been snatched by child sex traffickers who were going to smuggle them out of the country? Or maybe the three kidnappers were part of an abhorrent paedophile ring based in London that preyed on young, defenceless kids.

She also feared that Liam and his friends might be the latest victims of ruthless terrorists who planned to kill them in order to draw attention to their ghastly cause.

These days the news was full of so many despicable crimes that nothing could be ruled out. Only a month ago the papers were dominated by the story of a married couple in Leeds who had allowed men to have sex with their six-year-old daughter in return for cash. And about a year ago there was an armed siege at a nursery school in Paris where fifteen children were held hostage for eleven hours by a Somalian man with a rifle. He was eventually shot and killed by commandos who stormed the building and released the children. It turned out his aim had been to get back at the French government for refusing to grant him asylum.

Ruth was desperate to know why Liam had been taken. She could imagine that by now he’d be asking for his mummy. And if he got upset he would get into an awful state and struggle to breathe. His cystic fibrosis was a life-threatening curse. His daily regimen included tablets to loosen the mucus in his lungs and keep his airways clear. And then there were the enzyme supplements, which replaced those his pancreas failed to make.

Usually the drugs were administered by the nursery staff and Ruth ensured that the bag she left with them was replenished on a regular basis. But Liam wouldn’t be able to tell his captors what he needed to keep him alive. And since he had never once had to do without his medication for a whole day, Ruth didn’t know how quickly his condition would deteriorate. It was a frightening thought, and the sense of hopelessness she felt was paralysing.

By the time Ethan turned up, Ruth was smothered in a dark blanket of despair. She couldn’t think straight, and her brain was starting to blur at the edges.

Her husband was escorted into the community centre along with two other sets of parents who had arrived at the same time.

He’d come straight from work but had discarded his suit jacket and tie, and his white shirt hung over his belt. His face was taut with tension and his skin sheened with perspiration.

As soon as he spotted Ruth he rushed straight to her and the relief she felt was overwhelming. He put his arms around her and pulled her close, and she sobbed into his shoulder.

‘I got here as quickly as I could,’ he said. ‘Is there any more news?’

She continued to sob, and when she didn’t respond to his question Ethan eased her gently away from him.

‘You need to speak to me, Ruth,’ he said, his voice clipped. ‘Have the police found out where Liam is?’

Ruth swallowed hard and sucked air through her teeth. Her mind was turning somersaults and she could hear the blood thundering in her ears.

‘No, they haven’t,’ she said eventually, wiping at her eyes. ‘The officer in charge is going to update us soon. They’ve been waiting for more parents to get here.’

Ruth lifted her head to look at her husband’s face. She didn’t like what she saw. His jaw was tight and blood vessels bulged at his temples. He shifted his gaze away from her, as though unable to look her in the eyes.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I know that Liam wasn’t meant to be here today. And trust me, nothing you can say will make me feel any worse than I do right now.’

He turned back to her and spoke quietly, but not so quietly that those around them couldn’t hear. ‘So what was so important that you couldn’t spend the day with our son?’

‘I was invited to lunch with that magazine editor I told you about,’ she said. ‘I thought it would be an opportunity to secure some more work. I told Liam I’d take him to see Shrek another time.’

Ethan’s nostrils flared and he ran a hand across his forehead.

‘But now there might not be another time,’ he said. ‘Who knows what’s going to happen to our boy?’

Tears welled up in his eyes then and his face suddenly crumpled like a paper bag. Ruth hadn’t seen him cry since the doctor broke the news to them that Liam had cystic fibrosis. That was three years ago. Since then he had been a devoted father and had done everything possible to ensure that Liam enjoyed life despite his illness. He’d been overprotective for sure and had never given up searching for that elusive cure. He had even been talking recently about remortgaging the house to raise money for experimental treatment for CF that was being pioneered in the United States.

So Ruth could well appreciate how he felt now and she told herself that it was understandable that he would take it out on her. After all, she was to blame. If she hadn’t agreed to meet Howard Browning then she would be having fun with Liam right now instead of standing in a room surrounded by police officers and other distraught parents.

Ethan’s whole body was shaking as Ruth reached out and pulled him into an embrace.