Taking in the surroundings, he looked over the small hallway table that was decorated with photos. A few of them were of a beautiful woman with olive skin and jet-black hair.
Sam had clocked the ring on Aaron’s finger, which led him to believe it was his wife. Small details about people and places leapt out at him. It was what he was trained to do. Assess and store.
He already knew that it would take him twelve steps to reach the front of the garden.
The door had a double lock, which Aaron had neglected to activate.
Aaron himself was just under six feet tall, about thirteen stone, of which wasn’t muscle, and by the way he opened the door, was left handed.
Sam knew that the majority of those details would be insignificant at that moment in time. He had already scoped the street before blindsiding the terrified dad, ensuring that there was no police tail. But his training was so ingrained in his mind, he was a walking fact finder.
The sound of crockery clinging together and the low gurgle of a kettle filled Sam with warmth, the bitterness of the outside world still drilling through his bones. Careful not to leave any finger prints, he pulled the cuff of his jumper over his hands and picked up a photograph.
Next to the beautiful smile of Aaron’s wife, was a smaller, almost identical version of her, her face beaming with innocence and hope. The care free existence of a young adult.
Sam found himself smiling at the radiant photo, the love that emanated from both sets at eyes at the man with the camera.
A family filled with love.
His mind flashed to a memory, a summer day spent at the park. Lucy, her wedding ring proudly latched to her finger, sat reading, her feet up on the bench as the sun fell upon her. The park was full, families and groups of friends all basking in the sunshine.
Somewhere along the line, the memory had lost any detail, with every face a smooth, blank patch of skin.
Except for Lucy.
Except for Jamie.
Sam stood to the side of his memory, everything tinged with bronze as the colours faded from his subconscious. He watched himself meandering slowly through the throngs of people alongside his son, his three-year-old legs gamely keeping pace as they searched for stones.
It was a cherished memory.
But as the colours of trees and the faces of those around them faded, he realised it was a memory slowly ebbing away from him.
Sam closed his eyes, and a voice brought him back to the hallway of a desperate man’s house.
‘That’s her,’ Aaron said, nodding towards the photo in Sam’s hand. ‘My Jasmine.’
Sam looked at Aaron, his blood-shot eyes a cocktail of hangover, a bad night’s sleep, and genuine terror for his daughter’s safety.
‘She’s beautiful,’ Sam said. ‘They both are.’
‘Yeah, her mum was quite the looker. What she ever saw in me, I don’t know.’
‘Was?’ Sam asked, immediately regretting it.
‘She, err … she died. A few years back.’ Aaron’s voice cracked slightly, the painful memory still a gaping wound in his chest. He handed Sam a warm mug, a Game of Thrones logo emblazoned on the side. Sam took it carefully, ensuring the sleeve of his jumper still covered his fingers.
‘I’m sorry.’
Aaron nodded his appreciation before turning and heading back through to the kitchen, signalling the end of that conversation. Sam understood, following through, past the richly decorated living room and into the large, open-plan kitchen. Scouting the room, Sam couldn’t help but be impressed. The room was lined with spotless cabinets, all of them a rustic grey. The marble work tops were also dark, framing the kitchen nicely. In the middle, a large island with an inbuilt sink stood proudly, the rest of the top also marble and a few breakfast stools set up against it.
Despite the gloomy weather, the floor to ceiling windows that opened onto a large garden bathed the kitchen in light.
It was welcoming.
A home.
‘Nice place,’ Sam offered, watching with pity as Aaron tried to hide the empty bottle of Jack Daniels from the work top. Sam caught his eye. ‘That stuff isn’t going to help.’
‘I know,’ Aaron muttered, shaking his head. ‘I just, I didn’t know what to do.’
‘I’ll be honest with you, pal. Running head first into a gun fight with known criminals is probably the last thing you should be doing.’
Sam offered Aaron a smile but received nothing back. The man was clearly hurting, terrified at the thought of what his daughter was going through. If she was even alive?
‘I went to the police, but they told me she hadn’t been missing long enough for her to be reported missing.’ Aaron took a sip of his piping tea, a scowl on his face. ‘They said that most teenage girls stay out late.’
‘Is it possible she is with a friend?’
‘Not without letting me know.’
‘Maybe she forgot or she had a drink or…’ Sam offered, but Aaron snapped angrily.
‘Not my Jasmine.’ He shook his head. ‘Ever since her mother died, it’s been difficult. I mean, she’s a teenage girl. Her body is changing and she is experiencing things that she needs her mother for. I try, and my sister is pretty close with her, but she’s still hurting. We both are. And while she finds the things we used to do together lame or boring, she has never left me in the lurch as to where she is. If she gets stuck or is upset or anything, she calls me. Day or night.’
Aaron’s voice trailed off as he choked back tears and Sam finished his tea with a satisfying sigh and placed the
