Gone

         Gone
         Aaron          J Hall
         [e-mail]
                             
                             Total          word count: 6855 words

Rain fell heavily as John drove up to the school gates. His daughter, Lily, always waited for him just outside the gate. He would pick her up and they would go book shopping in the local charity shop - a passion she had picked up from her mother when she was alive.

Today though, Lily wasn't there, she was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the usual thriving of cars picking up their children. His stomach performed a gut-wrenching somersault that made him feel queasy. She always waited there. He parked the car up and made his way to the school reception.

He greeted the receptionist and asked if she had seen Lily, she hadn't but had only moved on to reception five minutes ago, the other lady whom had been on reception through school time had already gone home. Frustrated, John demanded to see someone of authority.

"She's probably just walked home; it's a bit late for a child to still be waiting about." The deputy head dismissed when John explained what had happened.
"You're Just over reacting."
"No. She always waits, she never walks home. Not since her mother..." John faded out at the grim thought of his wife lying under the wheels of the truck.
"Well, we have CCTV. Maybe you can take a look at that?" The deputy suggested half-heartedly.

The grainy footage flickered on the monitor. Lily stood in her usual place, just by the gate post near the curb of the car park entrance. They watched as a car pulled up. A door swung open. A hand reached out and pulled Lily inside. The door slammed shut. The car drove off. The short clip painfully burnt itself into John's memory as a tear welled in the ducts of his eyes.

"Pause it," he snapped, coming across more abrupt than he had intended. At least the deputy complied, fearful of what John might do if he didn't. The footage froze on the tail end of the car as it drove away into the traffic. Taking his phone from his jacket, he took a photo of the CCTV image, dialed 999, and left without another word.

John told the police what had happened and was told an officer would be straight on the case. After leaving his name and contact number he felt he too should help the investigation. He couldn't just sit around and wait. Anything could have happened to his girl. He had to do something, anything.

Then rationality set in. He realized that he needed rest. It had been a lot to take in. He headed back to his home to wait for an update from the police, and then he might be able to do something.

The Sat-Nav told DI Nichols that he would arrive at the 'Real Rental's' office in just over thirty minutes. As he drove, he couldn't push away the thought of the poor missing girl, or the distress that was evident in John's voice from the call. Slamming his foot on the accelerator, the car lurched forward, hurtling him down the motorway as he weaved between the traffic; A blaze of car horns erupted from somewhere behind him.

The sky had filled with heavy storm clouds time he pulled up in the visitor car park of the office, and the rain was falling heavier as the grey clouds turned to a smoky shade of black. His clothes began to stick to him and his scruffy hair stuck to his frail face as he made his way across to the reception door.

The place seemed deserted, which was peculiar as it was still in office operating hours. Undiscouraged, he pushed the glass door open and made his way to the reception desk.
"Good afternoon, how may I help you?" the receptionist chirped in greeting. Nichols pulled out his badge and flashed it at the woman. Her face seemed to drop. He looked at the receptionist closer. She was about twenty something, blonde, and a full face of thick makeup.
"I'm Detective Nichols," He began, keeping his voice steady. "I've had a report that a girl has been kidnapped using a car leased from this company. I was hoping you could give me some details."
The receptionist seemed unsure, but then tapped on the keyboard in front of her for a few seconds. Hesitantly, she asked for the registration. Nichols quoted it from memory.

"Ok, that car was leased two days ago," She began, her brow creasing as she squinted to read the screen. "It was leased under the name Mrs. Burrows."
"Is there a first name?"
"No, sorry detective. The car was paid for by cash, but there is a driver's license number. Will that help?" DI Nichols took out his notepad and jotted down the name and number. Mrs. Burrows wasn't much to go on and getting the feedback from a license number could take a day or so, but at least it was a start. He thanked the receptionist and passed her a business card, telling her to call him if she found any more information, then left and walked back to his patrol car.

The moment he was in the car, he dialed the number for DVLA enquiries. He knew a man that worked there so hopefully he could get some information faster than usual police enquiries. He left the license number and name, as well as his own details with them. They promised to have an answer for him by the end of tomorrow. That wasn't great, anything could happen to a missing girl in twenty four hours. At least it was something. With the knowledge that he was making headway, he decided to call John and keep him updated.

The answer phone took his call.
"Hi you've reached the voicemail of John Burrows, please leave your message after the tone." He hung up before the beep.
That was odd. John's name was Burrows, as was the suspects. He got back on the phone to the DVLA.
"Hi, it's DI Nichols here. I filed a data request a few moments ago on a license number. I need it prioritised as a matter of urgency. The family is now the primary suspect."
The operator insisted they would have an answer for him in about two hours.

John tossed and turned as he napped on the sofa. His wife's voice echoed around his mind as she lay in the road;
"When I'm gone John," She had gasped as she lay dying. "Look after Lily for me. You are all she has left now."
He awoke to a hot tear running over his cheek as he remembered his promise to her.

Trying to shake the morbid memories he lifted himself off of the sofa and walked into the kitchen. The wall clock told him it was ten past eight. Where had the time gone? He had only been dosing for ten minutes. What could he do to try and help his daughter? Where could she possibly be?
There were so many questions running though his mind. Who would want to take his daughter - his only daughter - away from him? The people of this world had already taken his wife away in that horrific accident.

He decided the best thing for him to do was to take a walk. The fresh air might help him clear his mind and think clearer. With that, he grabbed his coat and walked out the door.

As he walked aimlessly he began to generate a mental list of people that might have some connection to Lily and a motive they might have to kidnap her. She was a clever girl, envied by a lot of the other kids in her class, but he couldn't see another parent swiping her just to make their own child happy. But then the things you would do for your own flesh and blood is un-comprehendible to most onlookers.

He moved on to other possibilities, the thought of what another parent may have done chilling him to the bone. There weren't many people that would have wanted to harm Lily; she was a very likeable girl and wanted to be friends with everyone. Some people even adored. Maybe too much. Her school teacher was always singing praises about how Lily is the most amazing eleven year old she has ever met, and how she would love for her daughter to be the same.

The penny dropped. What if the teacher had taken Lily out of jealousy? Where would she have taken her? His heart began to slam into his rib cage. Tugging his mobile from his pocket, he dialled the number for Nichols.

The phone barely rang before Nichols answered.
"Hi John, how can I help?"
"Hey, I think I know who took Lily." John was gasping with eagerness. He would soon have his little girl back. On the other end, Nichols seemed puzzled.
"Go on," He said. John told him about his suspicions around the teacher - Miss Layard - and the possible motive she might have. Nichols in turn explained that he had been able to get a license number and some information on the person renting the car. He made sure to omit the part about the name so that he didn't send John into a panic. People act irrationally when they panic.
"When the results on the license come back, they may well confirm your suspicions around the teacher," Nichols lied. The teacher's name, Layard, sounded nothing like Burrows.
"I'll keep you posted."
John hung up, feeling positive for the first time all afternoon.

Back at the station, Nichols was the only one to be seen. Despite the urgency that surrounded the detective team, no-one seemed to work in the office past five o clock.
The clinical white glare of the strip lights cast dark shadows across the far wall, a glum reminder of the looming darkness that hung over poor Lily. Nichols tried as best he could to brush the ominous thought aside and concentrated instead on being practical.

Bringing up a record search, he hammered in 'Burrows' and hit enter. A small progress bar paced across the screen and then the results flooded the screen. There were a lot of Burrows' that were registered in the last census. Filtering the search, he found John and clicked on the 'relations' tab.

Only a few relatives appeared on screen. One was his father who had passed away over a decade ago and one was Lily. That left only two Burrows' who were registered and matched the filters Nichols had applied. Two 'Mrs' Burrows...

John's wife was one of them, and was also registered as deceased, killed in a road traffic incident earlier on in the year. That left one person, now Nichols' prime suspect. Mrs. Eleanor Burrows. John's mother who was alive and well. And living in the local area.

Getting up from his desk in something close to disbelief, Nichols reached for a disc that rested atop a pile of reports towering on the corner of his desk. Pushing it into the reader that sat below the TV monitor across the office, he opened the video file of the CCTV footage taken from the school. He had a strong suspicion around what he was about to see.

Lily appeared in the grainy, distorted images. He watched as the rental car pulled up at the side of the road just before the school gates. Lily pulled the door open and climbed inside. He noticed a hand reach out from the driver's seat to help her get in. That meant that whoever was driving the car cared enough for Lily to make sure she was in the car safely. It also meant that Lily had got in the car on her own accord. The driver must have been someone she knew and trusted.

The revelation reinforced his suspicions and made him half-smile. Back at his desk, he ran a few routine background checks on Eleanor Burrows and found more points to support his case. There was a pattern of mental instability in the family tree, and Eleanor had been diagnosed more than five years back. That would give some reason as to why she would kidnap her own granddaughter.
Eagerly he tapped at his keyboard, documenting his findings.

John knocked frantically on the solid oak door of his mum's bungalow. He had handled this situation on his own so far but now he needed to speak to someone, to release some of his anxiety into the world before it consumed him.

After a few moments the dark wood door peeled back and the tidy grey perm of his mum's hair appeared.
"Oh hello dear. Do come in." Her chirpy voice made him smile inwardly.
"Hi mum." He stepped through the frame and put his arm around Eleanor's dainty shoulders. "It's so good to see you." Taking a few steps into the bungalow, he stood in the claustrophobic kitchen of his mum's bungalow.

He leant against the worktop that framed the rest of the kitchen clasping a steaming cup of tea. He watched as Eleanor poured herself a small polka-dot mug from a matching teapot.
"So to what do I owe the pleasure?" She asked softly. John almost didn't want to tell her in case it upset her too much.
No. He had to tell her, Lily didn't have many family members. It was only right that the family she did have knew about her.
"It's Lily," He started, a bleak tone in his voice. "She's missing."

He watched as Eleanor's face plummetted.
"What do you mean Lily's missing?" She leant back and clasped the edge of the work top. Whether this was because of the shock or because of her frail legs, John wasn't sure. He suggested they talk in the lounge and they both took a seat on the leather sofa.

The bungalow's lounge was always a little gloomier than the rest of the house because the sunlight from the back garden was shielded by the huge shed that he had been tasked to building last summer. Today though, the lounge seemed to carry a glum undertone. Usually vibrant colours and shapes seemed distorted and washed out.

He talked Eleanor through the series of events that had played out. He told her about his suspicions surrounding the teacher and her possible motives. He explained that DI Nichols was investigating and that he was waiting for an update on the driver's license.
"Oh my god," Eleanor exclaimed. "That's awful." Her face dropped with shock as she shook her head in dismay. But there was something about her reaction that didn't seem quite right. It was probably just John's paranoia kicking in, understandable considering the things he had been through this afternoon. Thinking no more of it, he set down his cup of tea and went to the toilet.

As soon as John had left the room, Eleanor picked up his phone. She could hear him in the small water closet under the stairs; he wouldn't be long. She quickly scrolled through his contacts until she found DI Nichols. Reaching for a note pad that rested on the counter, she scribbled down the number then hit 'delete' from his phone. She set the phone back in its original place as the toilet flushed.

John left soon after, hugging his mum and promising to keep her updated if he got any more information from Nichols. She held him loosely; almost distant that didn't go unnoticed by him. Maybe it was just because she was worried about Lily. That was understandable.

As John got back into his car, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. The caller didn't have a name and instead a string of numbers showed across the screen. He answered tentatively.
"John, its Nichols." Stress filled Nichols voice causing him to sound gruff. That was strange, John had saved his number on his phone so why didn't his name show up?
"Hi, any progress?" John asked, brushing away his confusion.
"Yea, loads. John, there's no easy way of telling you this..." Nichols broke off.
"What? What is it?" John half shouted down the phone as a swirling sickness emerged from the depths of his stomach.
'Please be alive. Please be alive.' He thought to himself frantically as his heart thundered in his chest.

"It's your mum John."
"My mum? What do you mean it's my mum?" The words resounded in his mind. What did he mean? He had just seen his mum.
"She is the primary suspect in the case." Nichols continued. "Do not say or do anything, but I will be making the arrest as soon as possible."
John didn't reply. He was in deep thought leaving him in a trance like state. How could it be his mum? She was surprised when he had told her the news about Lily. Hell, she looked horrified at it.

"John." Nichols called down the phone pulling him out of the spell. "Do not say or do anything. I just wanted to tell you because I didn't want you to feel betrayed."
John hung up.

It couldn't be Eleanor. Not his mum. He refused to believe it. Turning the key from the car, he opened the door and made his way back to the bungalows front door.

Nichols swore as he thumped his fist on the desk. Quickly searching for Eleanor's latest address, he grabbed a pair of handcuffs from his draw and bolted out of the station wrestling with his coat as he went. There was no time to wait for any form of support or back up.

John stood in the cold wind of the night as the door in front of him seemed to creep open. He fought the urge of bursting in, knowing that it would cause more harm than good.

"John!" His mum exclaimed with surprise. "What are you doing back so soon?" She looked into his eyes and saw a frenzied, absent look that she had seen once before. A look she had seen in the mirror a long time ago.
"Come in, it's cold out here." She said. John stepped in uttering that he had forgotten his wallet.

Back in the kitchen, John's mind was racing from the update from Nichols. 'It's your mum, John.' Somehow he couldn't believe it. Nichols sounded convinced but John definitely wasn't.

Eleanor was too preoccupied looking around the kitchen for the wallet to notice that John had turned a deathly shade of grey.
"Mum," He started. She didn't hear him.
"Mum!" He called again. This time she stopped and turned around.
"John are you ok? You look awful." A worried tone slipped into her voice. How could she be to blame for what happened to Lily? She cared so much about everyone, especially Lily.

"You're a suspect." He told her. The painful words loomed in the air and a thick awkwardness hung between them as the words set in to Eleanor's mind.
"What? How?" She spoke in disbelief at his news.
"DI Nichols, the guy I told you about earlier." Eleanor's face was filled with anguish. John went on to tell her about the phone call from Nichols and that he was planning on making the arrest as soon as he could. Her face became contorted with horror.

Without saying a word, Eleanor took out her notepad and searched for Nichols number she had taken earlier, and started dialing.
"Mum? What are you doing?"
"Calling Nichols. I took his number from your phone earlier. Oh John I saw a look in your eye that scared me, and I really thought it might have been you that had taken Lily..." she drifted off as she noticed the boiling anger rising in John's face.
"You thought it was me? You thought it was me!" John burst with anger, a frenzied tone escaping from his jaws.

He snatched the phone from her hands and cut the line, casting a sharp glare in her direction, cutting into her emotions.
"How could you possibly think I was to blame?" He spoke calmer now, his anger subsiding, making way for anguish to set in.
"She is my daughter, mum! I have been thinking of any way I could possibly help to save her."
Eleanor didn't say a word. There was nothing she could say.

After a long, awkward pause, he spoke again.
"Come on. Let's get away from here; Nichols will be coming any moment to make the arrest." Eleanor nodded. John told her to pack for the night while he got the car started. She disappeared upstairs to stuff a few items of clothes into a bag. While he waited he reflected on what she had said. How could she have thought it was him? He had been feeling a bit voliatile lately but there was no reason for him to have taken is own daughter. Despite that though, he still cared for her and he didn't want to see her get arrested. Nichols might be convinced she was responsible but John certainly wasn't.

Eleanor trundled down the stairs and out the front door carrying her bag. A wild, desperate look had infested her features. She looked scared. At that moment, John realized just how real the situation was. He couldn't take her to his house, it would be the first place Nichols would go to when he saw Eleanor wasn't home. They would have to go to his wife's old home. She had insisted on keeping it to rent out.
Pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind, he slung his mum's bag in the boot, climbed into the driver's seat and then drove off into the dark night, an ominous feeling falling over them.

Nichols watched as the speedometer on the patrol car stuck at eighty nine miles an hour.
"Come on!" He yelled impatiently. Stamping harder on the accelerator, he tightened his grip on the leather wheel turning his knuckles painfully white.

If there was one thing that he had leant about John in the short space of time he had known him, it was that he could be volatile and temperamental. It had been a big mistake telling him about the plans to arrest Eleanor. But then, Nichols had been trying to keep him updated and thought it would have been better to tell John beforehand so that he didn't feel betrayed.

Well now Nichols felt betrayed. He had been trying to help John to find his daughter, and had found a very promising lead just to have it all thrown at him. This was one case he wouldn't have stolen from him. He had to find Lily, for her sake more than John's.

Dropping the sedan down a gear, he slammed on the throttle and lurched forward, speeding past ninety five miles an hour, the blue lights waving frantically.

Ten long minutes later he arrived at Eleanor's bungalow. Her car was still on the drive and the kitchen light was left on. That looked promising; maybe John hadn't been to see her. Parking the car up at the end of the driveway making sure to block Eleanor's car in, he made his way up to the front door.

He knocked on the door rapidly and stood in the cold wind and rain waiting for someone to come to the door. No one answered.
"Police          !" He called abruptly. Still no answer. He moved from the door and peered through the kitchen window. From the looks of things no one was in. swearing to himself, he made his way round to the back of the house.

Fortunately the back gate to the bungalow wasn't locked. Entering without permission or a warrant was illegal of course, but right now his main priority was to find Lily. If Eleanor really was to blame and John had warned her, then it wouldn't be long until she would move Lily somewhere else. He had to act fast.

Slowly, he pushed the rough wooden gate open and slinked up the garden towards the bungalow. He could see the lounge through the panoramic window, but that was just as desolate. From what he could see of the upstairs windows, they told the same story.

Against every caution his mind was shouting at him, Nichols paced slowly down the garden to the back door. He had no idea now of where Eleanor was and he feared that calling John would alert them to his naivety. No. He needed them to think that he was a few paces behind them, hot on their heels so that they didn't set up anywhere. It was better if they were running scared. People make more mistakes when they're running scared. With no other option, he tentatively tested the handle of the back door.

The car breaks squealed in the pouring rain as John pulled up. They had only travelled a few miles away from where they started, but John had insisted on taking a few diversions on the way to throw off anyone that might have been tailing them. Eleanor sighed as she looked out of the car window. Heavy drops of rain hammered against the thin glass. How had they ended up in this situation? Running from the law and ensuring they weren't being followed. This morning everything had been normal.

After five minutes, John finally switched off the car engine and they clambered out into the cold darkness. Quickly they grabbed Eleanor's bag from the boot and dashed for refuge under the porch. Fumbling for the keys to the old home, John ran through the plan in his head. He would leave his mum here in his wife's old house, then drive back to his own home and call Nichols to see if there had been any developments. Hopefully he would be able to persuade him that Eleanor wasn't to blame.

They darted across the road to the house. It was cold, lonely, and desolate. It was only now that John realized that he hadn't been here since the accident that killed his wife. He hadn't wanted to. There was so much here that would open the fresh wounds of losing her. Right now though he didn't have a choice. He led Eleanor through to the lounge, looking past anything that might set him off.

As they made their way down the narrow hallway, a small bang emanated from the bedroom upstairs which made them both freeze on the spot. No one was here. No one could be here. The previous tenants had moved out more than two months ago and had handed the keys back. John's heart began to race. He raised a finger to his lips and beckoned Eleanor to step back a few paces. Then slowly, he ascended the stairs and pulled the handle, peering into the dark, moonlit room.

Nichols wasn't having much luck. Unsurprisingly the back door was locked. He searched under the mat and nearby plant pots for a key, but to no avail. His morale plummeted as he stood back up, no idea of what to do next.

Before he realized what he was doing, he kicked the door hard with the heel of his shoe. The door trembled and succumbed to the force, swinging open and crashing into the wall. Unable to believe what he had just done, Nichols crept inside careful not to make any more noise in case the neighbors became suspicious.

He had to find an address. Something to point him to where they could be. There might even be something to point to where Lily could be. Eagerly he searched the lounge. There was nothing to be found other than the pristinely polished ornamentals and photo frames.

Walking out to the kitchen, Nichols searched for clues frantically. He could see the bright moon suspended behind wispy clouds in the black sky casting the perfect scene for a horror movie; a reminder of the horrors that would come to Lily if he didn't find her.

He pulled his gaze from the chilling scene, his eyes falling on an open notebook lying on the counter. The pages were filled with spidery writing. Amongst the scrawls was a number. A number he recognized. It was his phone number. How had Eleanor got hold of his number? And why had she written it down?

Before he had time to think through any sort of reason, his phone rang in his pocket. He answered half expecting Eleanor's voice.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Nichols. It's Adam from the DVLA. The data request has come back." Nichols wasn't sure whether he should have been disappointed that the call wasn't from Eleanor, or pleased that the results had come back quicker than expected.
"What did you find?" He questioned sombrely.
"The licence is held by a Mrs. Burrows." Adam sounded pleased with himself as he spoke.
"Do you have a first name? I can't use the licence as evidence without a first name."
"Oh there's a first name, I have an address too if it helps." Nichols pulled a small leather notebook from his jackets interior pocket as he listened to Adam, scribbling down the information as it was said.
"The licence was registered to Mrs Leanne Burrows."
"What? Leanne is John's wife. Leanne is dead."
"Sorry detective, I'm only telling you what my database tells me."
"What was the registered address?" Nichols almost snapped with frustration. That was not possible. There were death records on file certified by the local morgue. She was killed in a car accident, pronounced dead on arrival. But if she was dead, that would mean...

His thoughts trailed off as realisation set in. His concerns had been misplaced. Eleanor wasn't to blame at all. She was innocent but maybe knew something. Maybe that's why she took his number.
"The address. What is it?" He demanded down the phone.
"23 Waldenbrook Avenue." Adam announced. Nichols scribbled the address down and hung up. Making his way out of the bungalow and down the garden, he devised a plan in his mind, a plan that might just solve the case.

Gazing into the dark room, John could just about make out the silhouette of a single bed under the window. There was no sign of anyone or anything that could have made a noise. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside followed closely by Eleanor. Slowly, he tip toed towards the bed.

As they got closer, they heard a flushing toilet from the ensuite bathroom behind them. Time seemed to freeze, as they realised they were about to come face to face with an intruder. It had to be an intruder; no one had keys to this flat other than John. Leanne's set were safe at home in the lock box. No one could have got in using a key.

The ensuite door slowly opened, revealing a single person standing in the door way. Unsure of whom it was, both Eleanor and John took a step back in the darkness. The figure noticed them as they did so. Then it spoke.
"Dad?"

Nichols was hurtling as fast as he could down the road. The address was only a few blocks away, but if his suspicions were correct then there was no time to lose. If Leanne really was dead, and he was pretty sure she was going by the authorised death certificate on record, then only one person would have been able to get hold of her driver's licence. John. Nichols wasn't sure it was him to blame, and it made no sense but John was the only reasonable suspect that could have accessed Leanne's licence. The car charged around the bend as he made his was closer to the address.

"Dad? Is that you?" This time the voice was a lot softer, sounding almost scared.
John was stunned. That was Lily's voice.
"Hey, it's me." He took a few steps towards her, but she moved away from him.
"It's me, daddy." He said softly. He reached out and moved towards her in the darkness again. She backed away again, this time pulling the bathroom light cord.

Brilliant light filled the tiled room. It dazzled him for a second and then his eyes refocused. Before him, Lily stood in her nightgown, cowering against the toilet in the small room.
"Please don't hurt me daddy." He heard her sob.
"Daddy wouldn't hurt you darling; I've been very worried about you." He looked closer at his daughter. He saw a thick black bruise surrounding her left eye, and finger marks across her right forearm.

"What have you done to her?" Eleanor screamed from behind him as she gaped at the inflictions. A searing headache suddenly burnt into his forehead. Images filled his mind; images of him.

He was here, in this room with Lily. She was shaking, crying and whimpering as quietly as she could. He saw himself dragging her across the room to the small bed under the window. She had no choice but to oblige, his grip far too strong around her petite wrists. He made her look out the window, telling her in a raspy voice that the world outside was too dangerous, and he wanted to keep her here forever, where she would be safe. Lily gazed out the window, sobbing hard, terrified of her own father.

Then he was back in reality, staring at his little girl cowering away from him in the nook between the toilet and the wall.

Finally Nichols pulled up across the road from the house. John's car was parked outside, as was a 'Real Rental's' black sedan, confirming his suspicions. Either Eleanor or John was responsible for this, and they were both just a few meters away from him. Grabbing his handcuffs, Nichols climbed out of the car and stepped warily towards the apartment.

As he approached the front door, he heard sobbing from the upstairs bedroom. A child's sobbing. Lily was here. Nichols heartbeat shifted up a gear, pounding against his ribcage. He wasn't too late. Aiming for the lock, he kicked the front door open and ran up the stairs.

He was met by an open door. Eleanor stood inside by the bed clasping her hand over her mouth in horror. Taking a step inside, he reached for his handcuffs. Taking a second step, she noticed him. And he noticed John.

It couldn't be true. John just couldn't believe it. He wouldn't have hurt his beautiful daughter. He loved her. He shook his head and moved to give Lily a hug.
"Baby, it's me. I wouldn't hurt you." She whimpered quietly in the corner as he moved towards her.
"Lily, listen to me."
"Get away from me! You're horrible! I miss mummy!" She screamed as she welled up with more tears. Before she could stop herself, hot drops flooded over her cheeks.
"Get away from me!"

Nichols had heard enough. Ignoring Eleanor, who was staring at him in surprise, he marched towards the ensuite. He found John on his knees, arms outstretched to Lily in the corner. Seizing the opportunity, he slapped the handcuffs around John's wrists, stating the passage of rights as he did so. When he was finished, he saw Lily visibly relax.

John roared.
"She is my daughter!" Nichols saw a wild, frenzied look in John's eyes as he pulled him out of the bathroom. The same look Eleanor had seen earlier. The same look he had seen a dozen times before. The look of a frantic parent pushed too far until thy finally snapped under the pressure. The death of his wife must have taken a bigger toll on him than anyone knew.

"John. Calm down."
The roaring continued.
"John!"
He fell silent, his strained arms relaxed and fell lower to his stomach.
"Oh, my dear son," Eleanor cooed to him as he fell silent. "It got to you too then."

What did that mean? Nichols tried to work it out in his head. Thoughts surged through him: The frenzied look, the medical records, the death records, and the desperation in his voice. Of course, the family instability.

He let go of the handcuffs, making sure John was seated on the bed before he stepped away. He knew that shortly after the rage came the shock. John was quiet, breathing heavy, his eyes distant.
Moving to the bathroom, Nichols helped Lily up, careful not to hurt her frail arms further. She had stopped crying now. The poor child would have to sit through a lot of counselling to help her through this, Nichols thought as he led her quietly down the stairs and into the passenger seat of his car as she whimpered and sobbed into his shirt. He didn't mind, she had been through too much for a child.

John was miffed. He couldn't understand. His eyes searched around the room, trying to find something that could prove his innocence. They fell upon a car key; the key for the rental car. Realisation crashed over him. He recognised that key. He had used that key. He remembered now why Lily wasn't at the gate when he went to pick her up. He had already been there.

Images of him helping her into the car flashed through his mind. The buzz of the school parents collecting their children was all around him. Lily had got in the car with him, and he had taken her off with that crazed look in his eye to the home his wife had rented. Then he remembered nothing until he was back in his own car, pulling up at the school and seeing Lily was missing.

Nichols made his way back up the stair case to the bedroom. John was still sat quietly on the bed, Eleanor sat next to him with her arm around his shoulders. He almost felt sorry for John. He had been so concerned, so desperate to find his daughter. Nichols had seen that he genuinely cared for her.

"Why did you do it John?" He asked softly but firmly.
"I.. I don't know." John replied in a broken voice. "I don't remember doing it."

He told Nichols of the visions he had seen. Eleanor expanded saying that John had taken the death of Leanne harder than anyone had expected. She told him about the counselling sessions to help him through it and that a lot of progress had been made. Something must have triggered a relapse in John's mind, causing him to act out and try to protect the one thing that meant the most to him. His daughter. The house was certainly a nice place to put her. The walls were nicely decorated, and there were countless children's toys scattered around the room. 'She could have been happy here,' Nichols thought. 'If things had been different, she would have been happy here.'

The distant wailing of police sirens grew closer as a detention van weaved its path towards the house. It wouldn't be long now until John was taken to the station and detained. A sudden remorse washed over Nichols at that moment. He realised that this was another family to count towards the endless others that contributed to the broken home statistic. The sinking sadness overwhelmed him, drowning him in its deep sorrow. Slowly he stepped over to John and released the hand cuffs.

"You're a good man, John." He spoke. "I'll take these off and you promise me to be cooperative. Ok?"
John nodded solemnly. The thick metal straps unclipped and his wrists fell free loosely into his lap.
"You care for her John. The emergency call is evidence of your concern, it will act in your favour. She will only be gone while you take some time to get your head straight."
John nodded again. The realisation and shock of it all had taken control of his body, numbing him of any more emotion, any more hurt.

The detention van pulled up out outside and a dozen police officers bolted up the stairs. Nichols met them at the top and briefed them on the events. Then he stood. He stood and watched as they led John slowly down the stairs and into the back of the van. They slammed the grated cage door shut and John began to weep. He couldn't control the deep gasps for air as waterfalls erupted from the ducts in his eyes. The outer door closed, shutting him off from the world.

As the van pulled away, John peered out of the small circular window in front of him. He saw Lily sat in the patrol car, hugging tightly to her book. She was still sobbing to herself, heavy breaths shaking her chest.

"Good bye sweetheart, this isn't the end." He spoke to himself as the van made its way down the road, Lily and the scene drifting further away from him.
"I love you." He whispered as the van took a sharp turn around the corner and in that moment, Lily was gone.

She was safe now, he resolved. She was with the police. She was safe from her father.


         

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                   2014 Aaron J Hall