One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (127 page)

Cryssie looked at him sharply. Was this another tactic to make her see things his way? Another piece of emotional blackmail? she thought.

‘But…Shepherd's Keep will feel very empty with just me rattling around in it,' he ventured, and Cryssie sighed inwardly.

She knew exactly what was behind
that
remark! Yet somehow it didn't upset her. What he'd said was a fact, whether he'd meant to add it to his weaponry of persuasion or not. Giving him a sidelong glance, she thought it was hard to think of him living alone in the vast house, with only the elderly Megan to keep some semblance of order and prepare his meals. She didn't think his culinary skills were up to much, considering the remark he'd made at his London flat about the two omelettes he'd managed to produce.

They reached her car, and reluctantly Jed opened the door for Cryssie to get in—just as her mobile rang.

‘That has to be Polly,' Cryssie said, frowning. ‘Wonder what she wants—she seldom rings me.' As she answered it, her face immediately creased in anxiety. ‘What? When, Polly? What do you mean?'

Witnessing her consternation, Jed automatically gripped Cryssie's hand, putting his arm around her to support her.

‘Tell me again. What time?' Cryssie's voice rose to a shrill pitch. ‘How long?'

Jed's brow furrowed. This was obviously a frantic message.

Then, ‘Call the police now…
now
, Poll! And don't leave the house! Stay where you are!' She looked up at Jed, and he'd never seen her face so contorted in such anguish. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, but Polly was obviously going on talking as Cryssie listened. ‘I'll be home soon, Polly. Keep calm, Polly. Stop it! Listen to me! Get the police—and
stay
there!' Cryssie almost shouted.

She rang off, and stared up at Jed as if the end of the world was happening right then.

‘What the
hell
is it?' he demanded.

‘It's Milo. He's gone…he's missing. Polly can't find him anywhere!' Then she gathered herself together. ‘I've got to go…I've got to get home now!'

Jed slammed the door shut and grabbed her arm. ‘We'll take my car,' he said. ‘Come on—we'll get there in half the time!'

S
ICK
with apprehension, Cryssie sat stiffly alongside Jed as, tight-lipped, he drove rapidly away from Shepherd's Keep. They hardly exchanged a word for several minutes. She was so white with fear that at one point she thought she was going to faint—something he was obviously aware of, because, glancing across at her, he muttered tersely, ‘Put your head between your knees, Cryssie! And get a grip—we'll be there soon!'

A police car was already outside the house, and Jed drew up swiftly behind it. Hardly waiting for him to stop, Cryssie flung open the door and ran up the path. Inside, a policewoman was sitting by Polly on the settee, taking notes, while another officer stood turning the pages of the latest album of photographs of Milo, asking questions soothingly.

As soon as she saw Cryssie, Polly jumped to her feet and flung her arms around her, bursting into hysterical tears. ‘Cryssie! I'm so sorry! Milo's never run off before, has he? He was always so safe in the garden! Whatever shall we do? Oh, Cryssie…this is a nightmare! I've looked everywhere!'

Jed introduced himself briefly to the officers, and in answer to his questions they explained that all the area cars were already patrolling the streets, that missing children were a number one priority, and that in most cases they turned up safe and sound.

For a child of five to be missing for three hours was not uncommon.

‘They're usually with someone they know,' the man said reassuringly, trying to make himself heard above Polly's wailing. ‘The best thing is for his mother—and his aunt—to stay here, for when he wanders back home. The WPC will stay too—and I'll go to cover one of the possible areas where the child might be.' He glanced down at one of the pictures he was holding. ‘He's a beautiful little boy,' he said casually—which only added to Polly's hysteria.

‘Cryssie—you come with me,' Jed said brusquely, and through her threatening tears she could see clearly that he was agonising over this situation as much as herself and Polly. ‘You know all the places he goes—all his friends,' he added.

‘But I've been everywhere. I've already done that!' Polly cried.

‘Then we'll do it all again,' Jed said firmly. ‘Maybe there's somewhere you've overlooked.' He grabbed Cryssie's hand. ‘Come on. We're wasting time!'

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of hope and despair as one by one all possible ideas of where Milo might be came to nothing. The minutes ticked by as they drove slowly along every road, searching the park and the surrounding small wooded area where the children made dens, questioning everyone they came across, holding up Milo's picture, until Cryssie felt so physically and mentally drained she thought she was going to lose her mind. It was obvious that the police had not been successful, either. Because they'd promised to ring Jed's mobile if the child turned up.

Feeling defeat begin to sweep over her, she turned to Jed and said helplessly, ‘He's gone, Jed. He's been stolen. I know it. We're never going to see him again.'

‘No!'
He snarled out the word in a way that made Cryssie recoil in fear. ‘No,
no!
We've
got
to find him! Come on…think!' He banged his fist against his forehead in frustration. ‘What about…didn't you say you were taking him to the Summer Fair at some point? He might have tried to make his own way—'

‘That's impossible,' Cryssie said at once. ‘He'd never do that! It's right at the other side of town—there's no way he could get there by himself.'

Jed revved the engine. ‘It's worth a try,' he said tersely.

They drove through the crowded Saturday afternoon streets without speaking. Jed's face was almost brutal in expression as he surged the car forward. Cryssie sat motionless, listening to the racing of her heart. If anything dreadful had happened to Milo—or worse, if she should never see him again—her life would be over, she thought. Because what would there be to live for? All her plans and hopes and dreams were wrapped up in that little boy, and for Polly it would be the end of her world, too. Helpless though she was in many ways, Polly loved her son too much for her to imagine life without him. Slowly Cryssie's hand went to her mouth as she considered that stark possibility, the hell into which she and her sister would descend.

It took about fifteen minutes to reach the fairground, its gaudy sights and ear-splitting sounds as they drew up making Cryssie nearly heave. Milo had always loved this annual treat, but how different it all was when they were here to enjoy themselves, she thought, tears welling up in her eyes.

As they got out of the car, Jed nodded towards the stationary police vehicle waiting there. ‘They've beaten us to it,' he said. ‘But there's such a crowd here it'll take all of us to cover the place.' He strode in front of her to speak to the officer standing there, and before she could catch him up he turned to face her. ‘There's still no news,' he said briefly. He caught her hand. ‘Right. We'll start around the outside, where the staff caravans are always parked.'

‘I still don't think Milo could have got here by himself,' Cryssie said, the hopelessness in her voice saying it all. ‘And it's not like him to do such a thing.' She paused for a moment, holding her side, which was burning with a tense pain. ‘Oh, Jed,' she murmured in a desperate whisper. ‘I'm…I'm so frightened…'

He stopped in his tracks then, and pulled her towards him, holding her in a tight embrace that comforted her and strengthened her at the same time. ‘Hang in there, Cryssie,' he said, his mouth close against her ear. ‘We're not done yet, believe me. Don't give up. I
never
give up! Never, never, never!'

Momentarily reassured, Cryssie allowed herself to be almost dragged along as, with Milo's picture in his hand, Jed approached and questioned each and every adult and child they came to, knocking on caravan doors, checking behind trailers. She was caught up in a surreal situation, Cryssie thought, with the rollercoasters and rides careering along their dizzy routes, and everyone screaming in mock terror, with deafening music adding to the din. But
her
terror was real, and it was the worst sensation she'd ever experienced. There were no words that would ever describe it, she thought, her pervading sense of failure in their mission filling her with a strange calm.

And the worst thing was that there were so many small children there—any one of whom could have been Milo. Similar little fair curls, dressed in similar T-shirts…But
they
were all with adults, being held safely by the hand. All enjoying themselves.

They'd almost completed their circuit of the ground when suddenly, right alongside them, the door to one of the caravans opened and a young girl of about eight or nine stood on the steps, talking over her shoulder to someone behind her. She was clutching a Runaway Rascal in her arms.

‘Come on,' the child said. ‘Bring yours, and we'll go and ask my dad if we can have a candy floss. Do you like candy floss, Milo?'

MILO!
Jed and Cryssie leapt forward at the word, just as Milo—their Milo—followed the girl down the steps of the van. In unison, they both cried out his name, and in the brief seconds that followed gathered him up in their arms in such frantic relief that, afterwards Cryssie couldn't remember a thing about it. In her dizzy euphoria she as good as lost consciousness as she hugged and kissed the child, over and over again. But what she did remember was Jed's reaction. Because he was holding her—and Milo—in a circular embrace that almost robbed her of breath, and when she at last turned her head to look up at him she saw tears—real tears—slipping silently down his face. And witnessing that was so natural that she unselfconsciously kissed his wet cheeks, tasting the salt on her lips.

‘Thank God,' was all he said.

Quickly regaining his self-control, he rang Polly. ‘Polly? Milo's safe. We're coming home!'

The way he spoke the words filled Cryssie with a deep sense of wonder.
We're coming home!
Would any words ever again match those? she thought.

After letting the police know, and still without asking any questions of Milo, they turned to go back to the car. But the child hesitated.

‘This is my new friend,' he said. ‘She's called Victoria, and we've been playing with our Runaways in her caravan. I brought mine with me,' he added, holding Jed by the hand and looking up at them as if nothing unusual had happened that afternoon.

‘Well, thank you, Victoria, for letting Milo play,' Cryssie said. ‘I'm afraid we have to go home now, because Milo's mummy is waiting for him. Perhaps we'll come and see you again soon.'

As they walked slowly back to the car Jed and Cryssie exchanged glances over Milo's head. They both knew that there would be time for explanations later. But for now, blessed thankfulness was the only emotion they felt, or that mattered.

Much later, after the police had gone, they gently persuaded Milo to tell them how he'd got to the fair.

‘I went on the bus,' he said importantly. ‘And I wasn't going to the fair, anyway.' He helped himself to another potato crisp. ‘I was going to see you, Jed, at your house. I wanted to throw stones in the river, like we did before. Cryssie said I couldn't go this time, but I thought you wouldn't mind. There were lots of people and children at the bus stop as I went by, and then a bus came and everyone got on, and I did as well.'

‘But—didn't anyone ask you who you were with?' Polly asked. ‘Who paid for you?'

Milo shrugged. ‘No one. I didn't have any money. No one paid. And then everyone got off, and so did I, and then we were all at the fair. After a bit I saw Victoria—you know, with her Runaway—and she said we could play with them together.' He sucked a finger. ‘Her mummy and daddy work the rides,' he said. ‘But I didn't see them at all.'

So it was that easy, Cryssie thought, for a child to mingle, to become anonymous, in a crowd. And for no one to realise or notice.

After they'd all had something to eat, and put Milo to bed, Polly said, ‘I feel so utterly exhausted I'm going up as well—if you don't mind, Cryssie—Jed?' she asked. ‘I just want this day to end, and never to know another one like it.'

‘Of course, Polly,' Jed said gently. ‘You'll feel better in the morning. So will we all,' he added.

Polly hesitated. ‘I shall feel better when I know what you intend doing about the matter of the scarf I stole, Jed,' she said simply, and Cryssie was touched at her sister's courage to mention this today. ‘You must know that I stole from the store?' she went on slowly. ‘And—'

‘Yes—I was informed,' Jed said. ‘But, please think no more about it, Polly. I shan't,' he added. ‘That's a very small drop of water in the ocean.' He was silent for a moment, then, ‘I was wondering the other day whether you'd be interested in a small part-time job at Latimer's, Polly—as a beauty consultant in the cosmetics department,' he said, not looking at Cryssie, who had raised her eyes at him. ‘We stock most top-of-the-range make-up brands, as you probably know, but we've never bothered with a resident expert…someone who could give advice. It would be a very useful asset to us…if you're interested, that is?'

‘Oh—Jed…' Polly was overwhelmed at the suggestion.

‘You'd obviously need to think it over,' he went on quickly. ‘But it would be the sort of arrangement that could easily fit in with Milo's school hours.'

He sat back and looked across at Cryssie then, a tiny glint of triumph in his eyes. How long had he been thinking this one up? she thought. But it was a wonderful possibility, and it might help to restore some of Polly's self esteem—which, as he had so perceptively pointed out, was in short supply.

And, as a first step in that direction, Polly went right over to Jed and kissed him softly on both cheeks. ‘I'll let you have my acceptance in writing,' she said.

When Cryssie and Jed were alone together, she said curiously, ‘Was your suggestion to Polly a sudden rush of blood to the head, or…?'

‘No,' he replied. ‘It's been on my mind for a while that a professional in the beauty department, to give advice, would undoubtedly shift more of the expensive brands. And your sister is a very good advertisement, isn't she?'

Cryssie smiled. Polly had always known how to make the best of herself—a talent she could pass on. ‘Well, thanks for thinking of that, Jed,' she said slowly. ‘It might solve more than one problem for her.'

‘That's what I thought,' he said smoothly.

Sitting there, close together on the settee, Cryssie looked up at him thoughtfully. ‘I could not have kept going today without you, Jed,' she said.

He ran his hand through his hair restlessly. ‘If anyone…if anything had happened to Milo—' he began, then was unable to go on. And Cryssie realised, again, that he loved their little boy almost as much as they did. ‘I could do with a drink,' he said. ‘You don't feel like going out somewhere, I suppose…?'

‘I couldn't face anywhere else today, Jed, but there's a bottle of red wine in the pantry. Let's be devils and drink the lot! It's only nine o'clock,' she said lightly.