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‘Another child’s gone missing’ he knew he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep that night – or, indeed, for days to come.

Chapter 3
Helen – Day 1
    Helen sank to the floor, landing on the fluffy pink and yellow rug by Frankie’s bed. She squeezed her eyes shut, trapping her tears.
    The police. This was real. It was actually happening to her, the worst thing that could ever happen to a parent. The very worst thing. In the papers, they talked about child abduction as ‘every parent’s worst nightmare’, a cliché so well-used it had lost its power. But here it was.
    For a moment, as she’d charged into Frankie’s room after she and Sean got home, she had thought that her initial fear was unfounded. She wished she could return to that moment now. Freeze it, live in it . . .
    She often found Frankie asleep on the carpet when she climbed out of bed at night, and there was a dark shape on the floor on the far side of Frankie’s toddler bed. Blaming the alcohol, she cursed herself for being so melodramatic and bent to lift her up, but as she walked around the bed she saw immediately that it wasn’t Frankie at all, but her huge Tigger soft toy, the one her godmother had given her. There was a blanket over him – presumably Alice and Frankie had tucked him in down there as part of Frankie’s bedtime routine.
    The smile had fallen off her face and Helen had flung aside the toy, as if Frankie might have been hiding underneath. Her panic was back, stronger than ever. She’d lunged for the overhead light switch and the room had flared into harsh white light, diluting the magic lantern’s lazy whirls down to nothing.
    ‘Frankie?’ she’d called, not loudly, not yet, part of her still thinking how foolish she’d feel when she threw open the wardrobe door and there she was, or how scared Frankie would be to hear her yelling . . . but she wasn’t there. Helen had run along the landing, looking in the bathroom and the two other bedrooms on the first floor, then pounding up the narrow twisty attic stairs to Alice’s room in case she’d sneaked into her bed.
    ‘Frankie! ’ Louder this time, loud enough that Sean had heard her from the living room.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ His voice had sounded faint – and irritated, which upset Helen. Obviously there was a problem, if she was shouting for their daughter at almost midnight!
    ‘She’s not here! Sean, she’s not here!’
    Helen took both flights of stairs two at a time, almost slipping on the bottom one as she’d swung around the newel post and pushed past her husband. Sean tried to grab her but she slipped out of his reach and ran over to where Alice was still fast asleep on th e sofa.
    ‘Alice – Alice! Where’s Frankie? She’s not in her bed, I can’t find her. Where is she? Wake up!’ She shook her stepdaughter’s shoulder but even though Helen was yelling in her ear, Alice had just groaned and buried her face in the sofa cushions.
    ‘Wake up , you stupid, irresponsible little—’
    ‘Helen!’ Sean barked. ‘That’s not helping. Alice – wake up sweetheart. We need you to wake up.’ He too had shaken the girl’s shoulder, softly at first but then with more urgency as she still didn’t open her eyes.
    ‘Hel, she looks really poorly,’ Sean said, rolling her over onto her back. ‘Why won’t she wake up?’ He had patted her cheek gently and bent over her, sniffing, presumably for alcohol or drugs. Helen had to clench her fists behind her back to prevent herself actually slapping Alice awake.
    ‘Oh Sean, what if she went outside? Alice was passed out, she could’ve just wandered out into the street, anything could have happened. What do we do ?’
    The last word rose on a wail of increasing panic. Helen’s head was full of images of people carrying away children; the grainy hooded figure caught on CCTV unstrapping Liam from his car seat and running; the faceless thief who had taken Izzy from her house . . .
    ‘It’s him!’