Miss No One, Mark Ayre [romantic love story reading .TXT] 📗

dead lodged in her mind. Over time, she had learned the midnight wake-up signalled the setting of a ticking clock, counting down to the stranger's demise.

None of the fifty-plus people of Abbie's dreams had reached their final moment of life or death within thirty hours of Abbie waking from her prophetic dream. Had she failed to act in any of the fifty-plus cases, two people would have died before noon on day two. The vast majority would have lost their lives after sundown on that same day.

This wasn't hope but experience. Abbie had time. Isabella was not dead.

But she was in perilous danger.

Someone had come to Ndidi's house, murdered the au pair, and kidnapped the child. Kidnapping was seldom random, speculative. The kidnappers had specific reasons for taking that particular victim. Usually, their motives were simple, straight forward. More often than not, the kidnappers sought either to punish or to gain.

Abbie had never met Isabella but felt confident in her assumption that no one wanted to punish the child. This was not the work of eight-year-old Callum or whoever. A classmate who had proposed a playground marriage to Isabella and who had suffered a callous rejection.

Or what he considered to be callous, anyway.

Nor would Isabella have anything the kidnapper would want other than herself.

Abbie recalled her conversation with Ndidi. Talk of a wife, Isabella's mother. Clearly, his wife's departure had affected Ndidi, but that didn't mean he had been honest with Abbie about the situation. He had displayed shock that she would leave, abandoning her child, but Abbie couldn't verify this was the truth of the matter. Perhaps Ndidi had caught Isabella's mother cheating, or stealing, or something equally or more sinister. In such a scenario, might Ndidi have scared his wife off, warning her to stay away from her husband and child?

It was possible, and perhaps the wife would send someone to reclaim her daughter in such a scenario.

Possible, but unlikely.

The au pair was dead, for a start. Would Isabella's mother have been so violent? Would she even have been able to get hold of a gun or find the funds to hire someone to do all this for her? Would she risk it?

Abbie didn't know. She kept the theory on the table but close to the edge, ready to sweep onto the carpet.

The theory in the centre of this non-existent table was hazy but involved Ndidi as the reason for Isabella's kidnap.

If this was the case, it was unlikely to be to do with money. Detectives didn't earn enough. Punishment then?

Abbie had caught Ndidi beating Gary. Because of the Isabella news, he had never had a chance to explain why he was harming the lanky, younger man, whether with an honest explanation or a false one.

Was Ndidi entangled in something naughty? Had he displeased a bad man, and was he now reaping the rewards of this betrayal?

As the clock ticked towards midday and the cell door opened, Abbie was thinking about Davesh. Davesh, who had been preparing to do business with a dangerous man named Orion. Davesh, who someone had killed before he could complete whatever this business was.

Was Ndidi wrapped up with this also? Perhaps he had been working with Orion but had turned against him.

Abbie thought of Orion Becker, the only Orion she knew. Abbie had first crossed the Becker family's path as they were demonstrating how they dealt with co-conspirators who turned against them. Suppose this was that same Orion, and he felt Ndidi had betrayed him. In that case, Abbie could easily believe Orion had retaliated by taking Isabella.

He would see it as the perfect punishment.

Speculation. Hours and hours of speculation, and none of it leading anywhere until Abbie could get free, could learn more from first-hand experience, from asking questions.

More than anything, Abbie needed to speak with Ndidi. To hear his side of the story.

Not something she could orchestrate while behind bars, but she didn't expect that to be an issue. Ndidi wouldn't find Isabella. Before long, Abbie would be the only lead. He would come to her.

The door opened. Abbie rose. Was this him now?

Abbie hoped it would be, but her hopes were in vain. The door opened, and a man stepped in, but this guy was tall and at least a decade older than Ndidi. Also, he was white. He had thinning dark hair and a crooked smile. He looked a little friendly and a little like a shark.

"Miss King, I presume?"

Abbie rolled her eyes. "And I told the receptionist not to give my room number to anyone. What a wily fox you must be."

The tall man laughed, and the laugh seemed both genuine and fake simultaneously, which was odd.

"You've kept your spirits up, I see. Commendable, with so much hanging over you. Assaulting a police officer, kidnapping a child, and murder to boot. Not looking promising, is it?"

Abbie shook her head. "You're so wrong."

"Do you think?" said he.

"I know," said Abbie. "It's not kidnapping and murder, is it, because I was locked up when it happened. Presumably, the charge would be conspiracy to kidnap and murder or something similar. A charge that reflects my lack of participation in the event itself."

The detective withdrew his most patronising tone and said, "Aren't you clever? You're quite right, of course, and what a comfort that will be when they're carting you off to prison. Nearest high-security is right up the road, so you won't have far to go. Another bright side."

Abbie made a point of smiling but said nothing. The detective hadn't mentioned the dealership, the bodies. By now, the police had to be all over the scene, so they'd either not yet thought to connect it to her or had decided to hold back the information, ready to launch it at a stubborn Abbie halfway through the interview. Maybe they thought it would be the information to break her.

If so, they were very wrong.

"I'm DCI Kliman, and this is my colleague DC Lakes. She's pretty new around here, so I hope you'll