Nate saw them, too. ‘Are they looking for Immy?’
‘They are. Hopefully, they’ll find her before you’re home from school.’
He nodded and turned back to the window. ‘Does Miss Henderson know Immy’s gone?’
Shit. Why hadn’t it occurred to me I ought to have let school know?
‘I’ll give the school office a ring and explain what’s happened,’ I said.
‘Can’t you come in with me and tell Miss Henderson?’
‘Not now, sweetheart. I need to pop into work. But I’ll make sure she knows.’ I went to ruffle his hair, but he squirmed away.
‘What if people ask me where she is?’ he said as we drew up outside the school gates. ‘What do I say?’
‘Just tell them we’re looking for her.’
‘But you won’t be looking for her. You’ll be at work. You’re always at work.’ He unclipped his seatbelt and let himself out of the car. I watched him march in, his shoulders taut. On the rare occasions I did the school run, he always blew me a kiss before I drove away.
Not today.
FoodWrapped’s headquarters were in a small business park a couple of miles north east of Fordwich, in the former coal-mining village of Hersden. It was here that our ten-strong team packaged our organic recipe boxes and sent them out to customers across the country. I’d found the vacant warehouse not long after we moved to Stour House, and as soon as I saw it, I knew it was perfect for us. Newly refurbished with office space, a chilled storage unit and a purpose-built pack-house, it would also reduce my commute to less than ten minutes.
I parked beside Sheila’s Fiat 500, irritated to see there was no sign of Bill’s Range Rover, even though he’d promised he would be in early to prepare for the meeting with the accountant. I collected my laptop and bag, locked the car and stabbed the six-number passcode into the keypad on the wall beside the side door. Sheila looked up from her computer as I walked in. Worry lines furrowed her forehead.
‘Any news?’ she said, handing me the blue box file containing my copy of the yearly accounts.
I’d called her before breakfast to tell her about Immy, and she’d sounded as dazed as I felt. I shook my head. ‘They’re still looking.’
‘Oh Cleo, I’m so sorry. Do they have any idea where she might be?’
‘They think she let herself out of the gate and fell in the river while she was playing Pooh sticks.’
‘You said they found her shoe in the water. Why haven’t they found her yet?’
‘I wish I knew.’ I ran a hand through my hair. ‘And all the time they’re focusing on the river, they’re not considering the possibility that someone took her, and that’s what terrifies me.’
‘It sounds as though they’re doing everything they can,’ Sheila said. ‘I wish there was something I could do to help.’
‘Don’t be silly. You’ve got enough on your plate. How’s your mum?’
‘Nothing broken this time, thank the Lord. But I will use a couple of hours’ flexi to get off early this afternoon if that’s all right? She’s still very unsteady on her feet.’
I waved her request away. ‘You don’t need to ask. Is everything set for the meeting?’
She nodded. ‘Bill’s asked me to sit in and take the minutes.’
‘To save him from making notes.’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘He takes advantage of you.’
Her hand fluttered to her neck. ‘Oh, I don’t mind.’
‘No other issues?’
‘Everything is tickety-boo,’ Sheila said, echoing one of Bill’s favourite expressions. Her smile froze. ‘I’m sorry, what a thoughtless thing to say when everything’s far from tickety-boo.’
‘It’s OK, there’s no need to tiptoe around me.’
Sheila opened her mouth to speak, paused, then said, ‘How do you do it?’
‘Do what?’
‘Stay so together? I’d be in bits if my little girl was missing. But you’re so calm.’
‘Someone has to be,’ I said, hugging the box file to my chest. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go. Send me the minutes of the meeting before end of play, yes?’
She nodded. I could feel her eyes on me as I turned and headed back down the corridor. What Sheila didn’t understand, what none of them understood, was that if I opened the floodgates even a whisper, the tears would never stop.
Chapter Nine
I let myself in the front door and dropped my bag and the box file on the console table in the hallway. As Stuart shuffled down the stairs, I caught a whiff of stale sweat and recoiled.
‘Traffic must have been bad,’ he said.
‘No, it was fine. I popped into work to pick up the accounts.’
He stopped on the second to last stair, his hand gripping the newel post. ‘Tell me you’re joking.’
‘Why would I be? All we’re doing here is waiting. I might as well get some work done.’
‘I don’t believe you. Immy’s Christ knows where and work’s still your priority?’
‘That’s not fair. If you must know, work keeps my mind off everything else,’ I retorted, aware that Sam Bennett was in the kitchen and probably listening to every word.
He picked up his car keys and blundered past me to the door.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To look for our daughter,’ he said, yanking the door open. ‘I’m going to find my little girl.’
I jumped as the door slammed, then picked up the file and headed for the kitchen. Sam looked up from her phone as I walked in.
‘Everything all right?’
I sighed. ‘The usual difference of opinion.’ I set the box file on the island. ‘I picked up some work after I dropped Nate at school, which was the wrong thing to do, apparently. Stuart doesn’t think I should be even thinking about work with Immy missing.’
The officer laid her hands on the island. ‘Everyone deals with stress differently. You’re not alone, if that’s any consolation. I’ve always thrown myself into work when life’s given
