Miss No One Mark Ayre (children's books read aloud TXT) 📖

statue still. Then, as though the words had been floating lazily through the air but had been spurred on at the final second and smashed into their target, he staggered backwards.

"Idrissa," said Detective Moore. "If we can just—"

Mid-sentence, Idrissa Ndidi turned from his colleague, spinning towards Abbie, who didn't speak. Who sensed nothing she said would make this any better.

Ndidi stared at her. A look of despair and confusion on his face. Abbie could almost see the two pieces of information in his mind, like hanging vines. Vine one was Abbie's warning; vine two the devastating news delivered by Ndidi's colleague. They hung there, but Ndidi was in shock. It took a few moments for him to realise these two vines tied together quite well.

Then he did.

Abbie saw the moment everything snapped into place. A serene calm draped Ndidi's face the instant he connected the dots.

The serenity lasted less than a second.

White-hot rage replaced it.

Fury caught Ndidi as a flame will catch a firework. It burnt his fuse and sent him firing at Abbie like a rocket.

There was a table between them. The table turned out to be no obstacle.

Abbie had time to slide back her chair, still sitting, then Ndidi's hands were on her top. He was yanking her from the ground and dragging her towards the wall.

"Id, what are you doing?" Moore stepped into the room, coming after the devastated father.

Ndidi slammed Abbie against the wall.

She said nothing. Did nothing. As Ndidi had approached, Abbie had noted the awkward way he moved. When he had lifted her, she had observed the way his arms struggled. When he had slammed her against the wall, she had recognised he wasn't holding back. She was in no pain because he didn't have the strength to smash her as hard as he would have liked.

Conclusion: even when charged by rage, Ndidi was slower, less limber, weaker than Abbie. Had she wanted, she could have knocked his hands from her top and downed him in a second. Maybe two.

She did nothing. She was in a police station and in enough trouble without assaulting the detective a second time.

Ndidi pulled Abbie from the wall and shoved her back, squeezing her against the brick which lay beneath the paintwork and plaster. He did it again.

It still didn't hurt.

"Where is she? Where's Isabella?"

The words were a desperate scream. Ndidi's fury was fire, but his fear for his daughter was rain, and it was coming down hard.

"I don't know," said Abbie. Which was true.

"Who's taken her?"

"I don't know. I wish I knew."

"Liar."

Ndidi continued to slam Abbie against the wall, and it continued not to hurt. Though his sheer persistence was beginning to cause a slight ache around the shoulders and neck. As fear continued to dampen and put out his fury, Ndidi was becoming even weaker. Soon, Abbie wouldn't need to retaliate. Ndidi's hands would slip away. He would collapse.

Moore arrived. He put a hand on Ndidi's shoulder and tried to remove his colleague from Abbie.

"That's enough," he said. "Leave her alone."

"She did this," said Ndidi. "She stole my daughter."

"That can't be true," said the colleague. "How long has she been here? Your daughter was taken within the last hour. It can't have been her."

"She threatened me," said Ndidi. "She threatened to harm my daughter."

Detective Moore glanced at Abbie. She shook her head but didn't speak. Moore wasn’t sure what to think.

"She threatened Isabella," Ndidi said, repeating his assertion in different words. "She's responsible."

Moore still looked lost. And he hadn't looked at the table. Given her freedom was on the line, Abbie realised she would have to step in.

"I didn't threaten anyone," she said. "We discussed Isabella a couple of minutes ago. If someone can review the tape.”

Ndidi's eyes widened. "You bitch."

Moore turned. At once, he saw the file on the floor and noted the table was bare.

"Id," he said. "Where's the tape?"

"You bitch," Ndidi repeated. "You vile, evil—"

"That's enough," said Moore.

"I didn't threaten Isabella,” said Abbie. "I didn’t even know you had a daughter until you showed me her picture."

"Liar," said Ndidi. "Liar liar liar."

Rage once more overwhelmed fear, and he once more came for Abbie. Once more, she did nothing. This time, Moore acted faster, jumping between the two and shoving Ndidi.

"That's enough," he said. "That is enough."

"She—"

"No," said Moore. "You need to go. Your daughter's in danger. We're doing everything we can to find her, so I suggest you take a breath, take some time. If you go and wait in the canteen, I—"

"Fuck you," Ndidi cut in. “I outrank you. Why don’t you piss off and I’ll call you if I need you?”

In the face of this rage, Moore held up well. Keeping between Abbie and the furious father, he didn’t respond, nor quake in his boots. He waited for Ndidi to react.

At last, Ndidi did. He took three slow steps back, watching Abbie and his colleague all the time. Then he reached Abbie's chair and almost tripped. Grabbed the table to steady himself.

It was the jolt he needed.

Jabbing a finger at Abbie, he said, "I don't find my daughter, I kill you."

Abbie said nothing. Moore opened his mouth to respond, but Ndidi was already turning, rushing away. He vanished from the room to pursue his missing daughter, leaving Abbie and Moore alone.

Moore escorted Abbie back to her cell.

They didn't talk on the way. Both were turning over Ndidi’s reactions, brooding on what they should do next.

When she was on one side of her cell's door and he was on the other, Moore forced himself to meet Abbie's eye.

"Someone will come for you soon."

Because she doubted Moore had any way of knowing this but didn't want to call him a liar, Abbie chose not to respond. She stepped back and watched the door swing shut, then returned to the lumpy bunk on which she had earlier grabbed a couple of hours sleep.

Once lying down, shifting every few seconds, trying for a state that was impossible to come by in such a