Discarded M. Hunter (the snowy day read aloud TXT) 📖

ear. Robin nods and takes the Nevilles over to the ambulance. I’m about to follow them when Cavendish places her hand on my forearm and leads me in the opposite direction.

‘Did you know?’ she says quietly.

I frown. ‘I don’t follow.’

She makes a show of cracking her knuckles. ‘I’m only going to ask you once more, and I’m only giving you the benefit of the doubt because Jack rates you highly.’ She pauses. ‘Did you know?’

I’m still at a loss as to what she’s implying, but a troubled gasp from behind us has me turning to see Tina inside the ambulance with a pair of tiny arms wrapped around her shoulders.

‘Jo-Jo’s safe?’ I ask rhetorically.

‘Of course she is… But then she always was going to be, wasn’t she, Emma?’

My confused gaze returns to her expectant eyes.

‘I’m really not following, Zoe. What are you saying?’

She grunts, shaking her head slightly.

‘Let me paint you a picture, and stop me when any of this sounds familiar. An author with an element of notoriety has a new book hitting the shelves, and in her vain attempt to get it onto this or that bestseller list hatches upon a plan. A means of getting her name in the headlines once again. A missing child reunited with her terrified parents courtesy of said author’s expertise and diligence. It would sell one helluva lot of papers, and probably have that author’s book on everyone’s wish lists. But the only stumbling block is that having a child go missing isn’t something that can just be organised. Or is it…?’

My mouth drops at the insinuation. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’ is the only retort I can manage. ‘You think I somehow arranged for Jo-Jo to be abducted to sell more books? You’re unbelievable!’

‘Am I? It isn’t so ridiculous when the parents of the missing child insist that the writer become involved in the hunt for the child.’

‘Listen, Zoe, I know you don’t like me, but to accuse me of something so sordid with no evidence is bang out of order.’

She grunts mockingly. ‘No evidence? Okay, I’ll tell you what I do know, and then we’ll see what you have to say for yourself. The anonymous phone call that alerted us to the fact that Jo-Jo had been spotted in Bridport was traced back to an unregistered mobile phone. But triangulation tells us that the call was placed in Portland this afternoon. So, either our witness spotted Jo-Jo in Bridport but waited until he or she returned to the area before placing the call, or…’

She deliberately leaves the sentence hanging.

‘You think I placed the call?’

‘Not necessarily you, no, and I certainly can’t prove that one way or another, but that isn’t the part that I find so strange. Less than an hour after the anonymous tip-off, a crowd gathers at the Portland police station where I happen to be briefing my team about the call. And what shows up next but a local news station van with cameras primed to roll. Somebody wanted the story to make the news.’

I feel sick as I slowly play the theory around in my own mind. Something has felt off about this whole thing from the beginning, and I don’t like the ring of truth to what Cavendish is suggesting. It sounds so preposterous, and yet I find myself turning and looking at Tina and Trey and questioning everything they’ve said to me to this point.

‘It troubled me when I learned that Tina Neville had insisted on having you tag along on the investigation, and how disappointed she looked when I said I didn’t want you anywhere near the public appeal for information. I was surprised that you didn’t insist on being involved, but then when the FLO told me you and your ex-con friend Freddie Mitchell had arrived at the residence, I figured you were playing the long game.’

I pivot round as my anger reaches boiling point, but she holds up her hand before I can speak. She isn’t finished yet.

‘Imagine my surprise when a check of family holdings revealed that Tina’s ex-husband owns a caravan in Bridport. Well, he doesn’t own it exclusively – it’s in his sister’s name – but he is listed on the servicing contract here at the campsite. And when we arrive, who do we find inside with little Jo-Jo but Tina Neville’s former sister-in-law. And little Jo-Jo? She’s perfectly well and eating spaghetti on toast.’

‘I swear on my life, I had no idea about any of this,’ I say earnestly, though I get the impression she doesn’t believe me.

She holds her hands up. ‘Well, I gave you the courtesy for Jack’s sake. I swear to you, though, Emma, if I find any reason to doubt the truth of your answer, I will drag your name through the mud until I get to the truth.’

She moves to walk away but it’s my turn to reach for her arm. ‘I don’t know what I ever did to offend you, but I’m going to repeat the statement to remove any ambiguity between us: I had nothing to do with any of this! How you could think that I’d be so willing to go along with any scheme which might threaten the welfare of a child is beyond me. For Jack’s sake, I’ll do you the courtesy of not raising a complaint with your superior officer, Zoe. Your attitude towards me on the Aurélie Lebrun case and now stinks, but despite that, I respect you for the way you have recovered Jo-Jo unharmed.’

She moves away without further comment. I doubt there’s anything I could say or do to mend the bridge between us.

I watch as she next approaches Tina and Trey, and their reactions to whatever she says paint a picture of how involved they may or may not be. Whilst Tina throws her arms up in apparent anger and unleashes a verbal assault at Cavendish, Trey looks like a broken man. His head dips with the realisation that the wife he has