Michael Flynn had everyone on his payroll asking questions, and insisting on answers. His house was like Fort Knox – there were people watching it twenty-four/seven. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that this was the real deal. The fifty grand was an incentive, for everyone concerned. It was not just a big chunk of change, it was also proof of how serious Michael Flynn was about finding his daughter and, more to the point, punishing the person who had caused him so much aggro.

Michael Flynn was a legend in his own lunchtime; no one in their right mind would take him on. After seeing the photo of the man he was looking for, it was obvious that he was a fucking nutbag – he had to be.

A few of the people had heard the name Golding, and put two and two together. He had lost his whole family – of course he was a fucking nutter. But why had he singled out Michael Flynn’s only daughter? The gossip was Michael Flynn had refused to pay a ransom for her, and that seemed feasible; after all, Jessie Flynn wasn’t the most lovable of people. She hated her dad as well, everyone knew that. She talked about him like he was a piece of dirt – she had always enjoyed the shock and awe she had caused when people heard her cunt her father into the ground.

That was shocking enough, but what was more so was the way that Michael Flynn ignored it. It had to be hard for him, knowing that his only daughter talked about him as if he was nothing. If anyone else had dared to say what his Jessie had said, they would have been dead within twenty-four hours.

So people were willing to believe that he wouldn’t pay the ransom asked for his daughter, and a big majority of those people didn’t blame him. They thought that the fifty-grand reward was so he could locate the fucker responsible – and if Jessie was there then that was just an added bonus.

The whole underbelly of the British Isles was looking for Steven Golding. His photo was being shown everywhere. He was famous, but for all the wrong reasons.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three

Chapter One Hundred
and Twenty-Three

Josephine was listening to her grandson as he chattered away to her about school. Dana had brought him in to her, along with a tray of drinks and cake, and she tried her hardest to concentrate on what he was telling her.

Michael had been so right – she didn’t have any true interest in her grandson. She loved him, but she didn’t want to be bothered with the day-to-day care that was required. Dana saw to that. Josephine was always nervous that he would somehow interfere with her belongings.