Gone Read Free Page A

unconscious.’
    ‘There’s a full tank. I filled it up on my way into Bath. So, you see, he could be a long way away. An awfully long way.’
    ‘I can’t listen to this.’ Philippa pushed her chair back, went to the sofa and began rummaging in the pockets of a denim jacket. ‘Mum, Dad.’ She pulled out a packet of Benson & Hedges, shook it at her parents. ‘I know this isn’t the time or the place, but I smoke. Have done for months. I’m sorry.’
    Rose and Jonathan watched her go to the back door. Neither spoke as she threw it open and fumbled with a cigarette lighter. Her breath was white in the cold night air, and beyond her, clouds shattered and fragmented across the stars. Distant lights twinkled in the far valley. It was too cold for November, Caffery thought. Much too cold. He felt the frozen enormity of that countryside. The weight of a thousand lanes where Martha could have been abandoned. A Yaris was a smallish car with a relatively big petrol tank and a long range – maybe as much as five hundred miles – but Caffery didn’t think the jacker would just have driven in one direction. He was local – he’d known exactly where the street CCTV cameras had been. He’d be too nervous to leave his patch. He’d still be somewhere quite close by, somewhere he knew. He was probably trying to find a place secluded enough to let her go. Caffery was sure that was what had happened, but the elapsed time was still knocking silently inside him. Three and a halfhours. Nearly four now. He stirred his tea. Looked at the spoon rather than let the family see his eyes straying to the clock on the wall.
    ‘So, Mr Bradley,’ he said, ‘I’m told you’re the parish priest?’
    ‘Yes. I used to be a headmaster but I was ordained three years ago.’
    ‘You seem like a happy family.’
    ‘We are.’
    ‘You live within your means? If it’s not a rude question.’
    Jonathan gave a small, bleak smile. ‘We do. Very well within our means, thank you. We have no debts. I’m not a secret gambler or a drug addict. And we haven’t upset anyone. Is that your next question?’
    ‘Dad,’ Philippa muttered. ‘Don’t be such a rude shit.’
    He didn’t acknowledge his daughter. ‘If that’s what you’re edging towards, Mr Caffery, I can promise you it’s the wrong path. There’s no reason for anyone to want to take her away from us. No reason at all. We’re just not that sort of family.’
    ‘I understand your frustration. I’m only wanting to get a clearer picture.’
    ‘There is no picture. There is
no
picture. My daughter has been taken and we’re waiting for you to do something about it—’ He broke off as if he’d suddenly realized he was shouting. He sat back, breathing hard, his face a livid red. ‘I’m sorry.’ He pushed a hand through his hair. He looked tired. Beaten. ‘I’m sorry – really sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It’s just you can’t possibly imagine what this feels like.’
    A few years ago, when he was young and hot-headed, a comment like that would have infuriated Caffery – this assumption that he couldn’t know what it felt like – but with the benefit of age he could keep himself calm. Jonathan Bradley didn’t know what he was saying, had no idea – how could he? – so Caffery put his hands on the table. Flat. To show how unruffled he was. How in control. ‘Look, Mr Bradley, Mrs Bradley. No one can be a hundred per cent sure, and I can’t predict the future, but I am prepared to go out on a limb and say I’ve got a feeling – a very strong feeling – there’s going to be a happy ending to this.’
    ‘Good God.’ A tear ran down Rose’s face. ‘Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?’
    ‘I really mean that. In fact . . .’ He smiled reassuringly – and then said one of the stupidest things he’d uttered in his life. ‘In fact I’m looking forward to the photo of Martha blowing out her candles. I’m hoping you’ll be sending me a copy