waited for me to do the same. I didn’t move; my limbs refused to cooperate, as if they too were in fear of what the next few moments held.
The DI opened the passenger door. I got out slowly, every movement jerky. The detective’s hand brushed my arm as she went to close the door. Her touch caused me to jump.
‘Sorry,’ she said, scrutinising my face. ‘OK?’
I nodded my head tiredly. We walked to the front door and DI Ward pressed the bell. I could hear Paul shuffling about inside. Just as she was about to ring again, Paul flung the door open.
‘Sophie,’ he said, his eyes questioning, ‘what are you doing here? And who’s this?’ He smiled tentatively at the detective. ‘Where’s Amy?’
‘Paul!’ I shouted, re-finding my strength as adrenaline shot through me. I bolted through the door, knocking Paul to one side, and moved toward the back of the house. ‘What do you mean, where’s Amy? Is she here?’
‘What are you talking about?’ he called to me down the hall. ‘She’s with you. It’s Saturday, you always take her on a Saturday.’
‘I beg your pardon? She’s with me?’ I was hurrying back toward him, my face flushed with colour. A swathe of red moved rapidly up my neck.
‘You collected her this morning, Sophie. Where is Amy?’ He looked furtively behind DI Ward. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’
The detective moved forward to introduce herself. ‘Mr Mitchell, I’m DI Ward. Your ex-wife reported your little girl missing. You were at the fairground with them, to celebrate Ms Fraiser’s birthday?’ Her tone sought affirmation.
His eyes widened and he paled. ‘Missing!’ He took a deep breath and turned to me. ‘Sophie?’
DI Ward cleared her throat. ‘The fairground, Mr Mitchell, were you at the fairground?’
‘Um, I’m afraid, Officer,’ Paul said, his eyes moving from DI Ward to me, ‘I wasn’t at any fairground. Sophie did ring me a couple of hours ago asking where I was. I told her I was at home.’ He ran his hand across his forehead. ‘You had better come in.’ Paul frowned at me and nodded for the detective to go through to the living room.
She made her way through but remained standing. Paul stood on one side of the room, me on the other.
‘OK, do you think Amy might have run away?’ the DI asked.
I looked at Paul. ‘Do you think she might have run from the fairground?’
Paul glanced at me, rage causing his face to twist. ‘What fairground, Sophie?’
I turned to the detective. ‘Do you see what I mean?’
She gave a slight nod. ‘Mr Mitchell, you weren’t at the fairground today?’
‘No. I don’t know what she’s talking about.’
‘OK, do either of you think Amy might have run away?’
We both shook our heads.
‘She –’ Paul started.
‘She,’ I cut in, ‘was fine when we were together.’ I looked hard at him. ‘We were together.’ Weren’t we?
‘Nothing happened that might have upset her?’
I looked at the floor. ‘Like I told you, when I saw her speaking to a woman, I did get a bit cross.’ I nibbled my lip. ‘But only because I was worried.’
‘OK.’ The DI’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘And, Mr Mitchell, where were you?’
‘Out and about.’ He glanced at me. ‘I went into town for some food, that kind of thing.’
I gasped. ‘Out and about?’ Spittle covered my lip. ‘What are you doing here?’
The DI ploughed on. ‘Could Amy be with friends, relatives?’
‘Of course, she could be,’ I said, ‘but she was with me.’
Paul turned to me now. ‘Yes, she was with you. Where is she now?’ He ran his hand through his hair and clenched his fist as he did so. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’
‘OK, Mr Mitchell,’ DI Ward said, ‘can you phone around her friends, close relatives, and check she isn’t with them?’ She thought for a second. ‘Does she have a favourite place she might go to?’ She looked at us in turn.
Paul was staring at me. ‘I don’t think so.’ He paused. ‘Sophie, what the fuck is going on here?’
‘I can’t think of one now,’ I said quietly.
‘OK, Ms Fraiser, can I have that photo you showed me earlier? You said it was taken recently?’
‘Yeah, it’s a month old. We went to a passport booth together.’
I searched my wallet and handed it to her and with relief saw that it was one of two copies. Amy’s face stared up at me and I traced the outline of her face with my forefinger. I wanted to reach into the photo, grab her, hug her, never let her go.
‘Right, I just need to make a quick call.’ The DI backed out of the living room and stepped outside.
‘Paul, where’s Amy?’ I said, my voice a hot whisper as I dropped my bag to the floor. ‘Don’t do this to me! Why are you lying?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not lying.’ He seemed furtive. ‘Are you having a you-know?’
I waited, let him explain, even though I knew what he was implying. ‘A you-know?’
‘An episode. When you,’ he pursed his lips, ‘make stuff up. Imagine things.’
I stared at him in stunned silence, tapped the sofa three times. ‘You won’t get away with this.’
Paul didn’t say anything and left the room. I could hear him addressing family members, parents of Amy’s friends.
‘Mr Mitchell? Ms Fraiser?’ Ten minutes later, DI Ward stepped back into the hallway and made her way to the living room. ‘DCS Fields is on his way over. I just need to ask a few more questions.’ She looked at us. ‘Right, then. Mind if I sit down?’ She gestured to the sofa before sitting down on the paisley-covered cushions. The fabric was a remnant of our failed marriage. I had always hated it. Paul’s choice. Not mine. I sat myself at the other end.
‘Right, so let me get this straight, Mr Mitchell,’ she started to say.
‘You can call me Paul,’ he interrupted.
‘Right, OK, Paul,’ she tried again. ‘Can you confirm that you were not at the fairground today, on Acton Green, with Ms Fraiser? That you have no knowledge of a day out?’ She jotted something down in her notebook.
‘That’s correct.’ He wrung his hands.
‘And that you
