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

After a few seconds of mulling this over, Christine nodded.

"Orion, I assume?"

"It might be a coincidence," said Abbie. "If you're hell-bent on this course of action, I'd take a look at your evidence and see if someone like Orion Becker could be involved in this. If so, you must tell Kilman to tread extremely lightly. The Becker's were violent sociopaths to a man and woman. Alone, Orion is a wounded animal. It would be easy to underestimate him, but remember: often, there's no creature more dangerous than a wounded animal with a violent history. Something to think about."

For a while, Christine did seem to think about this, then she nodded again.

"Thank you."

Abbie nodded.

"Be ready," said Christine. "Kilman will want to speak with you. And soon."

Having built up the courage needed to approach the place where she would put her career and life on the line, Christine started forward, walking away from Abbie, who didn't stop her going.

As always, the clock was ticking.

With Christine on her way to drop Abbie in it with Kilman, Abbie's chances to save Isabella seemed to be sliding away faster than ever.

Turning from Christine, Abbie started walking.

Every second she had, she would use to find and save Isabella.

Whatever it took.

Fourteen

Abbie walked away from Christine with purpose but without inspiration. She knew what she was trying to achieve (save Isabella) but had no idea how best to approach that goal.

Options were limited. The two standouts seemed to be to find and talk to DI Ndidi or find and talk to Gary. The problem was she didn't know where either lived or how she could locate them.

By now, Christine would be walking into the police station. How long before Kilman was running out, hot on Abbie's tail? Abbie was convinced the detective would refuse to believe Hammond was involved in any wrongdoing. As Davesh was dead, Abbie would become his only active lead, which would become a problem for Abbie fast. She needed to move her own investigation forward, and fast.

For lack of an idea, she made her way back to the park where she had earlier that morning seen Ndidi assault Gary. She did not expect to stumble upon the same scene again, but who knew? She might get lucky.

As she approached the park, she mused that Ben would have been able to acquire the addresses she needed. It had been many years since she had tried to do this life-saving thing alone. She had forgotten how difficult it was.

As she crossed from pavement to grass, through a gate that opened onto the public park, Abbie's phone began to ring. She didn't need to glance at the number before answering to know who it would be.

"Hello, Abagail, I hear you've managed to escape imprisonment, however temporarily."

It was as though thinking of the vile, slippery creature had summoned him. Abbie shuddered at the thought.

"Ben," she said. "Lovely to hear from you. Have you called to apologise?"

"I've just left a meeting with the board," he said, disregarding her question and tone and keeping his own words emotionless and to the point.

"This'll be the plank of wood you drew a face on and called Bartholomew, would it? You know most people grow out of the imaginary friend thing before they exit their childhood. I respect that you've kept hold of yours. It's a real link to your innocent youth."

"You may believe I disregarded your comments out of hand when last we spoke," Ben continued. His ability to ignore her continued taunts was admirable. "I didn't. Everything was noted, and when I spoke with the company directors, I raised your points."

When answering the phone and beginning this conversation, Abbie had continued walking along the grass towards the toilet block where yesterday she had spotted the hooded and lanky Gary. Though she wasn't sure when it had happened, she realised belatedly she had stopped moving. She was stuck in the mud.

"I wish I could believe that," she told Ben.

"As do I," he said. "We've had our problems over the years, but I want you to know I care for you. And the things you've done, the lives you've saved... your work has been astounding."

"It doesn't have to end."

"You're right," he said. "It doesn't."

Abbie knew they were coming at this point from different angles and so refused to allow hope to bloom within her heart. She'd stopped while facing a small playground, and she watched children run back and forth and parents natter as she waited for Ben to continue.

"Unfortunately," he said, "the board were unmoved by your arguments. We take the business of protecting the innocent incredibly seriously. You have a gift, Abbie, and we want to continue to support it. We want to help you build the kind of legacy that would, in more enlightened times, lead to you being canonised."

"Saints have no dress sense," Abbie noted. Although, maybe she could be the exception?

"We want to help you," Ben continued. "But we do, regrettably, require you to make sacrifices."

Abbie squeezed her eyes shut and took a calming, emotion stabilising breath. She reopened her eyes to the sight of a father pushing his toddler on a swing. The little girl screamed higher, higher, higher.

"You want me to sacrifice my life."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Ben. "Your life is precious, and we will do all we can to protect it."

Abbie shook her head, though Ben couldn't see her.

"You do all you can to protect my existence," Abbie corrected. "But nothing to protect my life, something which you actively discourage me from having. To you, I'm no more than a toaster. I'm fit for a single purpose, and God forbid I should want to unplug myself from the wall, cross the kitchen and... find love with the washing machine.”

Abbie was frustrated. She felt as though she was making a valuable, critical point, but that the point might have been lost within the bizarre and fast crumbling toaster/washing machine love story metaphor.

"Don't be so dramatic," said Ben. He was trying to inject compassion into his voice. As