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

might seem early, but we don't want to miss—"

"It's fine," Ndidi cut in. "Perfectly fine."

They made an awkward move towards the door. Norris clearly didn't want to be there but wasn't sure he should go. In the end, Ndidi had to practically herd them out, brushing them from his house onto his drive.

Evans went first. On the doorstep, Stanton and Norris turned back.

"Thank you for coming," said Ndidi. "I appreciate everything you're doing."

"Of course," said Stanton.

"We will find your daughter," said Norris. "We'll bring her home safely. You have my word."

Stanton flinched at the promise. Another no-no when it came to delivering news to the families and loved ones of victims. Never make promises you weren't 100% certain you could keep.

In other words: never make promises.

"Thank you," said Ndidi. "I know you'll put every resource into it."

Before Norris could make any further stupid promises, Stanton all but dragged him away. Ndidi watched as Evans dropped into one of the badged cars at the bottom of the drive, and both of those cars started up and moved out of the way. Stanton and Norris got into the car on the driveway, the one sitting in Leilani's space. Ndidi raised a hand as they started the engine. He didn't close the door until all three cars were out of sight.

Leaving the hall, Ndidi went through to the kitchen and poured the whiskey down the sink. It wouldn't help. He didn't need it.

Anger bubbled in his stomach. Norris and Stanton could say whatever they liked. Ndidi knew limited resource would be given to the search for Isabella. They already had several people dedicated to the Abbie King issue. Now there was something else. Something they hadn't bothered to tell him about. They didn't think he knew what else had happened tonight besides the casino robbery. In a way, he didn't. Except he knew something had. He had been part of it, after all.

From the kitchen, Ndidi returned to the living room. He took up his armchair and sat with his hands folded in his lap, unmoving, for ten minutes. When the time was up, he rose, crossed the room, and grabbed his car keys from the little bowl on the sofa side table.

Leilani had purchased that bowl at a craft fair. Ndidi kept losing his keys, and this was her solution.

You're a detective. You shouldn't be so absent-minded.

Ndidi had been striding with purpose but stopped as his wife's voice seemed to rock through him. Two deep breaths stopped the tears before they could begin, but it was with a shaking hand he opened his front door.

Norris and Ndidi's colleagues could never have saved Isabella. The only way was always going to be to give the kidnappers what they wanted. It was unquestionable. The mere suggestion Ndidi might fail to do what A said was laughable. He had already lost his wife. He would move heaven and earth to ensure he did not also lose his daughter.

Stepping onto the driveway, the detective looked left and right up his street. The street he had lived on for five years. The first house Isabella would remember.

The lights were off. Everyone was in bed.

Ndidi walked down his driveway, and the security light above his front door burst into life.

His heart pounding, his breath catching, he reached the boot of his car. Pressing a button on the key fob, he unlocked the vehicle. He placed a hand on the release and took a deep breath.

He had done the right thing. It didn't matter if he felt uncomfortable following A's orders. It was his only choice. He would have walked into the police station where he worked with an AK47 and torn everyone to ribbons if it would guarantee Isabella's safety. Kilman might die, and Ndidi would have to live with that, but he would never regret it. There were no lengths to which he would not go to save his daughter.

He took another deep breath. He pressed the rubber compression pad on the boot of his car and stepped back as the lid flipped up, revealing the inside. Revealing...

Nothing.

The boot was empty.

Ndidi's breath caught. He grabbed his heart and staggered back. His legs went weak, and he almost dropped to his knees.

No, no, no, no. What had happened?

He was on the verge of tears, on the verge of screaming, when he heard movement to his right. Spinning in that direction, he saw someone step through the shadows.

"Looks like you're missing something."

The speaker stepped from the darkness into the bright glow of the security light. Revealing herself. Revealing Abbie King, Ndidi's attacker and enemy.

She gave a sad smile.

"Or should I say... someone?"

Thirty

"Where is she?"

Ndidi's fists were clenched, his eyes burning with fear and rage. Abbie could tell it was taking all his strength and self-control not to rush Abbie, attack her, as he had at the police station.

Abbie didn't move, didn't tense, didn't prepare herself to flee or counter attack. Ndidi was a grieving husband and frightened father. If he needed to attack her, he could. Abbie hadn't brought her gun because she knew she wouldn't need it. She had something the detective wanted. That he needed.

"Answer me," he said.

Abbie took a step further into the light and glanced into the boot of Ndidi's car.

"We got her out a couple of minutes before your friends arrived," said Abbie. "She's with my allies, en route to our safe house."

The allies were Christine and Ana. The safehouse was Christine's flat. The hope was to get their new addition up the stairs and into the apartment without drawing any nosey neighbours' attention. Should be fine at this time of night, but they would be careful.

"You need to bring her back. Right now."

His voice was on the verge of turning into a shout. Realising he was losing control, Ndidi looked left and right. Checking for flashing lights in nearby homes. Abbie kept her eyes on the detective.

"No," she said. "You're coming with me.”

She turned to walk away, and now he did dart down