Free The Game You Played by Anni Taylor

through: Tommy didn’t cry for me after he was taken? He didn’t grieve me like I grieved him? Did he forget me straight away?
    Pain speared deep inside my chest.
    Wait . . .
    The only person who could possibly know that Tommy didn’t remember me was the person who took him. This was proof that the letters were from the abductor.
    Wait . . .
    This was proof that Tommy was alive. The letter was written as though it was something that was happening now . Not at the time of the abduction. Tommy was starting to forget me and his old life now .
    I whirled around.
    The abductor wanted to see my suffering first hand.
    Well, here I am. See my suffering.
    People caught my eye and quickly looked away. My breaths were shallow, too quick.
    Who are you?
    Who are you?
    Who are you?
    I pushed the envelope and letter into my pocket, remembering too late I wasn’t meant to touch the stationery.
    Ten minutes later, I was walking into Detective Gilroy’s office for the second time that morning.
    His dark eyes showed a faint look of bewilderment as he looked up from his paperwork. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything much to tell you. We didn’t get any fingerprints. I called your husband and told him as much.”
    “That’s not why I’m here.”
    “It isn’t?”
    “I found another letter. At the Southern Sails Café.”
    “You found a second letter? There? How—?”
    “It was pinned to the noticeboard, with a message on the front of the envelope. They wanted to get my attention . . . and it worked.”
    “So, you stopped off for a coffee after leaving here?”
    “Not exactly. I got all the way home, and then I remembered something. The letter I gave you had the scent of coffee on it. Caramel mochaccino. I knew where that smell had come from. So I went there.”
    “I know the café. Where’s the letter? Is it still there?”
    “It’s here.” Carefully, I slid the crumpled letter and envelope from my jeans pocket and smoothed them both out.
    “You’ve already held them, so just put them down on the desk,” he instructed. “I won’t touch them.” I sensed a reprimanding tone in his voice.
    He moved from his desk to walk around to the letter, expelling a long breath of air as he read the message on the envelope and the letter. “It certainly seems to be from the same person.”
    My hands curled into fists on my lap. “If they’re saying that Tommy doesn’t remember me, then that means that he’s alive . . . right?”
    The words that had sounded feasible inside my head sounded like a fairy tale when they left my lips. Like I was asking if an evil wizard might be keeping Tommy in a tower. And by the cloud that entered the detective’s eyes, I knew he wasn’t buying into the fairy tale.
    “We still can’t say for sure that this is the person who took Tommy,” he told me noncommittally.
    “But you can’t say that it isn’t.”
    “No. But I’ll be honest, Phoebe.” Leaning his hip against the desk, he folded his arms. “The odds of the actual kidnapper contacting you are very, very low. After you left, I spent some time looking up child kidnapping cases. Just to see if there’s something I’m missing. I didn’t find any instance of this happening before. Look, we’ll certainly cover all bases. How about we start with the most likely scenario? There could be someone who wants to cause you emotional pain. Is there anyone in your life at the moment that you’re having issues with?”
    “No. I barely see anyone. Apart from Nan. And Luke’s parents on occasion.”
    “What about in the past few years? These could be small issues that seem tiny to you . . .” He trailed off, looking at me expectantly, like I was going to produce some obscure person from out of my hat. “Hang on, didn’t you have a problem with a neighbour at some point? Bernice, wasn’t it?”
    “Bernice Wick, yes.”
    “Okay. It might help if you tell me what the grudge was all about.”
    I twisted my fingers together. I couldn’t