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ALSO BY GILLIAN JACKSON

The Pharmacist

The Victim

The Deception

Abduction

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Nataliia Tanchak whose positivity and sense of humour in adversity is inspirational

1

FEBRUARY 3RD 1988

A late-night phone call to her colleague sent a thrill of excitement shooting through Helen. After three weeks on the job and barely any time out of the office, newbie social worker Helen Hanna relished being on call under the supervision of Valerie Chapman. Secretly Helen longed for excitement, something to get her out of her allocated dusty cramped cubicle and away from the endless boring paperwork. It seemed her prayers were finally answered. The call, which was to initiate her to the seedier side of life, was from a concerned neighbour.

‘A possible child left at home alone,’ Valerie explained, grabbing her coat and heading for the door, a deep frown on her face. ‘The police will meet us at the scene.’

Helen scurried after her and shivered as the biting wind gusted around them.

By 11.30pm the two women arrived at the address they’d been given to be greeted by an irate neighbour who threw out accusations like confetti. The council housing estate was one Valerie was all too familiar with. Many of her clients lived there.

The house in question was in complete darkness but the neighbour insisted children were inside. ‘That cow doesn’t deserve to ’ave kids. She leaves ’em to fend for themselves while she’s off with ’er latest fella!’

Valerie was already peering through the letterbox, calling out to anyone who might be inside. For a few moments there was silence, broken only by the insistent neighbour instructing them as to what they should be doing. Her raucous voice and colourful language did nothing to ease the situation, and if children were inside, they’d probably be more afraid of this woman than of being alone. Then, finally, a faint noise, a sob from within confirmed the presence of at least one child. Valerie spoke softly through the letterbox, while flapping her arm behind her to keep the neighbour away.

‘Hello, sweetheart, my name’s Valerie. Are you okay in there?’ Silence, then another muffled sob. ‘Can you come to the door and tell me your name?’

The police arrived during this rather one-sided conversation. Valerie stood and turned towards the two men who exited the car. ‘I’m pretty certain there’s a child inside, and most probably alone.’ The officers made an immediate decision to forcibly enter the property.

Valerie spoke through the letterbox once more to warn the child of what would happen. ‘There are two policemen with me and they’re going to open the door so we can come in, okay? Can you hear me, sweetheart? It might be noisy so stand well back and we’ll be with you in a minute.’

A minute was all it took to force the flimsy lock, allowing the police to enter the house. Valerie and Helen were close behind, aware that the police needed to perform an on-the-spot risk assessment but anxious for the child who must be frightened by their presence. The first officer flicked a light switch in the lobby but nothing happened.

‘No money in the meter, I should think.’ He produced a torch from his jacket while his colleague went back to the car to switch on the headlights and turn the vehicle around to face the house.

A tiny lobby housed a staircase, a door to the right, presumably the living room, and a door facing, which probably led to a kitchen. As Helen’s eyes took in the layout of the rooms her nostrils were filled with a sickening smell which nearly caused her to retch. Valerie glanced over her shoulder and smiled wryly at the younger girl. ‘You’ll get used to it. Dirty nappies.’

The police officer opened the first door, where the sparsely furnished small square room was flooded with light from the car headlights. Two small children huddled in a corner like frightened animals, blinking against the blinding light. The officer swept the room with his eyes before giving Valerie the okay to approach the children. A girl of no more than four or five shielded a younger boy, both of them squeezing their thin little bodies as far as they could into the corner, as if the walls could offer them protection. Helen gasped at the sight but a look from her colleague warned her to keep her emotions in check.

Valerie slowly squatted in front of the children, not too close. ‘Hello. I’m Valerie and this is my friend, Helen. What’s your name?’

The little girl eyed her suspiciously then whispered, ‘Joanne’. The boy was silent but Valerie continued smiling and asked where their mother was. No answer. The little boy started to cry. His sister gripped him even tighter, her wide blue eyes full of suspicion and fear.

Helen briefly appraised the room they were in. Even in the patchy light shed by the car, the space looked filthy. The walls were damp with old peeling paper and mildew, forming grotesque-looking patterns across the ceiling. There was no carpet – just old and uneven bare floorboards. An ancient brown sofa stood against one wall, stuffing hanging out of the arms and seat cushions so threadbare there was more foam showing through than fabric. A side panel of glass was broken in the bay window and held together with brown parcel tape, utterly useless for keeping out the cold February night. A television stood in one corner on an upturned box, its wide screen and shiny black newness incongruous with its surroundings.

Valerie continued to speak calmly to the children, attempting to gain their trust. Then turning to Helen she whispered, ‘Go and fetch the blankets from the boot of my car.’

Helen hurried off, grateful to be out in the fresh air but simultaneously feeling guilty about her revulsion for the situation inside. The first policeman stood by his car on his radio reporting in to the station while his colleague searched upstairs. Helen retrieved the blankets and took them back into the house as the second policeman came downstairs.

‘No sign of anyone else. Who knows how long those kids have been alone; the fridge is all but empty. Poor little sods.’ He nodded to Helen. ‘You taking them now?’

‘Er, yes, we are.’ Helen was floundering. Having longed for something to happen, this situation had thrown her. The smell was making her feel sick and she longed for a hot shower and her bed, although it was doubtful whether the images she’d seen could be erased sufficiently to allow a peaceful night’s sleep.

Taking the blankets to Valerie, she found her colleague trying to persuade the little girl to move away from her brother. Valerie took a blanket and draped it around Joanne’s shoulders, but the child still clung to her brother. It looked as if they’d have to lift them out as one. As Helen leaned over to help, the girl bit into her arm and scratched at her face.

Valerie managed to wrap the girl’s flailing arms in the blanket but was rewarded by a piercing feral scream, making the boy cry even louder. The senior social worker held the girl tightly and motioned her colleague to do the same with her brother. Helen was so stunned that it took a few seconds to respond. The boy wriggled in her arms, screaming, almost deafening her. He wore only a thin vest and his legs were covered with excrement, the smell of which was overpowering.

Valerie managed to lift the girl into the back of her car and asked Helen to get in with the boy. The pair clung together, their limbs a tangle of bones with barely any flesh on them. Thankfully they lapsed into silence as they were driven away.

The children needed an examination by a doctor and taking them to A & E was the quickest way to do so at that time of night. As they carried them into the hospital, Helen found that swaddling the boy in the blanket and holding him close calmed him. Valerie did the same with the girl.

Neither child spoke to the social workers or the nurses but seemed content to be held, both still. By 1am, a doctor had examined the children, declaring them dehydrated and malnourished. Valerie accompanied a nurse to bathe the brother and sister while Helen was sent in search of coffee. The night’s events had shocked her; it would take more than coffee to erase the images of those neglected children from her mind.

Later, while the children slept, Valerie sat with Helen and talked over their evening.

‘It’s not the worst case I’ve come across but we don’t know all the details yet. It looks as if they’ve been alone for a few days and the police will already be trying to trace the mother or father if there’s one on the scene. They’ll be kept in hospital for a few days, they’ve had drinks and a little food but I’ve never come across such malnutrition before. There’s head lice to deal with too – the nursing staff will have their hands full tomorrow. You need to check your hair when you go home, which I suggest you do now. It’s been a difficult night but it’s even harder on those poor kids. Keep that in mind.’ Valerie smiled.

Helen knew she’d never forget this case. The sight of those terrified children would stay with her forever. Walking away with tears in her eyes, Helen Hanna wondered what the future held for Joanne and her brother.

2

DAY 1

April 2017

Even after two full terms at his new school, Danny loved it. The atmosphere and huge modern building still thrilled him, as did the full timetable crammed with subjects new to him, such as languages, chemistry and physics. That particular morning they’d had a French lesson with Mr Armand, a real Frenchman who made his lessons fun. He told them his name was of German origin and meant ‘bold’ or ‘hardy’ and the whole class laughed when he struck a pose like a strongman. Danny thought he might like to take German as well as French, his dad always said that languages can get you places.

Danny declared St Bede’s to be awesome with at least five times the number of pupils than the junior school he’d attended. He was finally growing up and even his parents treated him differently. He owned his first mobile phone and was allowed to walk to and from school alone, a journey of almost half an hour – a pain in bad weather, yet exciting. Danny was also the proud owner of a door key, so he could let himself in to wait until his mother finished work instead of going to the homework club. It was only for an hour or so and Danny was pleased his parents trusted him to be in the house alone.

As he made his way home on Monday afternoon, Danny’s head was bowed against the driving rain, the hood of his parka limiting his vision with nothing visible except the pavement in front of him. He heard a vehicle pull up nearby but thought nothing of it until he was grabbed from behind.

Wriggling and kicking, Danny did his best to break free, but whoever held him was strong. As he was lifted into the van, the doors slammed shut behind him and a hood of some kind was roughly pulled over his head – he could see nothing.

Danny’s heart sounded like a drum throbbing in his ears. He shouted to be released, but the effort only earned him a slap on the side of his head and a man’s voice growled at him to shut up. Then he was roughly tied with his hands by his side so he couldn’t move his arms or pull the hood off his head.

Danny began crying. He couldn’t help it – then feeling a warm wetness trickle down his legs, he realised he’d peed himself. Shaking and sobbing, utter helplessness overwhelmed him and he was ashamed for letting the man grab him without putting up more of a fight.

The van seemed to drive for ages, although it was probably little more than an hour. The road became bumpy and Danny was tossed about in the back of the van, curled up, wet, cold and whimpering. With his arms bound by his side, there was no way to stop himself from rolling about on the dirty van floor, occasionally bumping into the man and receiving a shove when he did. The smell of oil and burnt rubber made him feel quite nauseous, but he knew it would only add to his discomfort if he were sick. Danny had never before been so afraid, and he longed for his parents and the warm comfort of their home.

Eventually, the engine stopped and the sound of the driver getting out of the cab and coming to the back doors brought another rush of fear to Danny’s mind. With his breath coming in shallow gulps he squeezed into the corner of the van, trying to make himself as small as possible in the futile hope that whoever they were, they might go away and forget about him.

They didn’t.

The man who was in the back with him dragged Danny towards the doors before hoisting him over his shoulders as if he was no weight at all. Kicking his legs around was useless and earned another, even harder, slap to his head.

For a moment, Danny felt sick and dizzy. Then he allowed his body to go limp – it seemed pointless to struggle with this large strong man. Unable to see his surroundings was frustrating and terrifying, but Danny concentrated on listening for sounds that might give him a clue as to where they were. It was quiet with only the faint sound of vehicles in the distance and the happy song of birds busily flying from tree to tree without a care in the world. The rain was still falling and the men’s boots squelched as they walked, as if they were stepping in mud. It could have been a farm, or perhaps a cottage in the country somewhere?

Danny was carried inside and up a flight of stairs, then dropped onto the hard floor, sending a sharp pain through his hip and down his right leg. As the man left the room, closing the door firmly behind him, Danny heard the sound of bolts sliding into place – two bolts locking him in, then the sound of the man stomping down the stairs. For a minute Danny remained still, listening. There was the sound of voices downstairs, the same two men, but it wasn’t possible to make out what they were saying.

When he was as sure as he could be that he was alone in the room, Danny freed his arms from their loose binding and pulled off the hood to look around. He was in a square room with a small window, bare floorboards and nothing other than a dirty-looking mattress in one corner and a bucket in another. A couple of blankets were on the end of the mattress. The walls were half-covered with peeling paper and the damp was running down to the rotting skirting boards. It was so very different to his bedroom at home, a place he briefly wondered if he’d ever see again. Danny remembered his rucksack with his mobile phone but realised he must have dropped it when the man grabbed him. Perhaps someone would find it and know he’d been kidnapped?

Taking off his coat and then his wet trousers, Danny used one of the blankets to rub his legs dry as the shame that he’d been unable to control himself brought a flush to his face. He hung the trousers on the door handle to dry. But it was so cold in the room and he was shivering, his teeth chattering together. Danny put his coat back on and, sitting on the mattress, wrapped his legs in the other blanket.

The tears came again, and curling up on his side, he sobbed bitterly.

3

DAY 1

Eventually Danny’s tears dried. He rubbed at his eyes, blew his nose and thought seriously about his situation. Clearly, he’d been kidnapped and it was up to him, his duty, to do his best to escape.

Danny stood, wrapped the blanket around his legs and shuffled over to the window. The dirty glass was cracked, the frame warped and someone had nailed the window frame to the base so it wouldn’t open. A heavy mesh encased the outside, making it difficult, though not impossible, to see through. The mesh was presumably to deter him from climbing out of the window.

Danny screwed up his eyes and peered into the distance – a main road was visible, separated from the house by a couple of fields. To the left was woodland, not particularly dense, but with a path leading into the trees which could mean that someone walked through it, hopefully with regularity. The noise of the traffic couldn’t be heard from inside.

Adjacent to the house was a large barn, or what was left of one, with more holes than roof from what Danny could see and only half a door swinging precariously on a large rusty hinge. A white van was parked near the house, too close to see little more than the roof, and certainly not the number plate, but he reckoned it was a Ford Transit.

Danny sighed and went to sit back down on the dirty mattress to think. He expected his mother would be home and wondering where he was by then. What would she do first? Probably ring Ethan to see if he was with him.

Ethan lived a couple of blocks away from their house and the two boys had been friends since their first day at primary school. Danny was glad when they both enrolled at St Bede’s, although they were in different classes. Both boys made other friends yet still saw each other often, particularly during school holidays.

If only Danny had waited to walk home with Ethan this might not have happened. When Danny’s mother learned he wasn’t at Ethan’s, what would she do? She wasn’t one to panic but he knew she’d worry when he wasn’t home. He still had his watch on – it was 5.30pm. He wondered if she’d called the police yet.

The front door banged and Danny jumped up and ran to the window. It looked like both men were leaving. He could only just make them out through the murky glass but there was the sound of two car doors slamming. Danny had been right; the van was a Ford Transit and he watched it drive down the uneven lane they’d taken to get there, turn left, and disappear out of sight.

Presumably, Danny was alone unless there’d been someone else in the house waiting for them to arrive. Dare he risk shouting? The desire to get out of that stark filthy room was greater than his fear of a third person being around, so he shouted as loudly as he could, banging on the door until his fists were sore. There was no response which probably meant he was alone.

Danny scanned the room again, searching for a possible way of escape. The door was old but solid and he knew there were bolts on the outside. The window wouldn’t open – he’d seen the nails and if he smashed the glass he would still have the problem of the mesh outside, which looked rather heavy duty and was probably nailed down like the window frame.

With such a bare room and both ways of exit ruled out, Danny felt the tears sting his eyes once more. He sniffed, wiping his nose on his parka sleeve, and swallowed hard to stop himself crying. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling and when he flipped the switch it was a relief to find it worked. It was bad enough being there, but the dark would only add to his misery.

By 7.30pm it was completely dark outside and Danny had been alone for over two hours. Finally, after failing to come up with an escape plan, he sat on the mattress and watched a spider spinning a web in the corner of the window. Danny needed to use the bucket as a toilet, assuming that was why it was there, and he was feeling hungry and cold.

Suddenly, headlights danced across the wall and the sound of an engine in the drive told him his captors were returning. Should he be relieved? No, he was terrified, his heart pounding wildly. Being alone was so much better than having those men in the house. Would they hurt him?

Danny sniffed back the tears and listened as the van doors opened, then slammed closed. He found he was holding his breath, listening, but the voices were just noise, the words indistinguishable. Danny thought one of the voices sounded like a woman. He heard them enter the house and wondered if they’d come upstairs to check on him – afraid they would but somehow needing to know more about his captors – to be able to look at their faces and assess what his fate might be.

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