Mum says. ‘Do you want to go and lie down?’
‘What? No! How can I lie down at a time like this? I should be out there looking for her.’
Vicky shakes her head. ‘Leave it to the police. They’ve got it all under control, doing everything they can. Whoever’s taken her won’t get very far.’
‘I should be doing something.’
A blonde woman in her forties emerges from the kitchen. ‘Hi, I’m Sergeant Sally Morrison, your FLO – family liaison officer.’ She holds out her hand and Amber shakes it limply. ‘I can only imagine how awful this must be for you. I want you to know that I’ll be here supporting you the whole way through.’ Her round face and blue eyes ooze sympathy. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘She’s utterly distraught,’ Mum snaps on Amber’s behalf. ‘What do you expect?’
Sally doesn’t react, turning instead to Amber. ‘Shall we talk in the conservatory? It’s nice and private in there.’ The code is obvious.
‘I’ll make some tea,’ her mother says, walking briskly into the kitchen.
Sally, who already seems to know her way around, leads Amber into what Vicky calls the sun lounge. There is no sun today, though, just a blanket of grey cloud.
‘Please sit down,’ she says, as if Amber is her guest.
‘It feels wrong, being here.’ Amber sinks awkwardly into a wicker armchair. ‘I should be out searching for her. Or at least I should be at home, ready for when she comes back.’
Sally sits in the chair on the other side of the glass coffee table. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible right now,’ she says gently. ‘Your flat is a crime scene, you see. SOCOs are there now taking prints and DNA samples, looking for signs of entry, recovering evidence. Officers are making house-to-house enquiries, appealing for witnesses, tracking down CCTV footage. Your mother gave us a photo of Mabel. We’ve issued it to our search teams and they’re scouring everywhere. It’s been declared a major incident, Gold Command – that’s as serious as it gets.’ Her words are both reassuring and terrifying.
‘How did they manage to take her?’ Amber asks, her voice trembling.
‘We don’t know yet. We’re trying to piece that together at the moment.’ Sally stares into her eyes, demanding her full attention. ‘Everything we do is evidence- and intelligence-based. We are trained not to have preconceived ideas about what might have happened. We explore every possible scenario and keep our minds constantly open.’
Amber’s mouth dries. ‘Yes, but what do you think happened?’
Sally holds out her hands. ‘Like I said, we’re not going to jump to conclusions. We’re still assembling evidence. And you can help us with that.’
Amber looks at her blankly. ‘How can I help? I wasn’t there, was I?’
‘These circumstances are extremely unusual. It’s possible that the person who took Mabel planned the abduction. They may have known that she lived in the flat; they may even have known that you and your husband were going away for the weekend, leaving her with your sister. They may have had a key, or known where the spare was kept, or known how to get in. In other words, they may be somebody you know.’
Amber shudders. ‘No, no, that’s horrible.’
‘You may not know them very well, or they may be somebody you used to know in the past. Somebody you fell out with. I want you to think really, really hard.’
‘Nobody we know would ever do something like that. It’s evil.’
Sally pauses, nodding. ‘I know it’s shocking, but often the answer is closer to home than we realise. So it’s really important that you tell us the truth.’
Amber flinches. The truth is a bullet she’s been dodging for some time now. ‘Why wouldn’t I tell you the truth? My daughter is missing!’
‘I’ve worked in Child Protection for many years,’ Sally says steadily. ‘Most child abductions are committed by parents, often fathers who’ve been denied access by court orders.’
‘Well not in this case, obviously,’ Amber says, feeling herself prickling all over. ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree there.’
But Sally will not be dissuaded. ‘As I understand it, you and your husband are together. You’re not going through a separation or divorce? You both live with Mabel full-time and parent her jointly?’
‘Yes, of course! What are you implying?’
Sally shifts uncomfortably on the padded cushions. ‘I’m just trying to build up an accurate picture of Mabel’s home life, that’s all. You both went away for the weekend, separately, leaving her with your sister. That’s quite an unusual thing to do, if you