Free Mother Love by Maureen Carter Page A

clattered in saucer as Caroline passed the tea to Elizabeth.
    The older woman paused, eyebrow arched. ‘And you can, dear?’ The rebuke was gentle but hit home. Clearly Caroline was jittery, on edge, and for some reason questioning Sarah Quinn’s professionalism. However much time Elizabeth had for Caroline as a family friend, she was acutely aware the reporter rarely acted without an unwritten agenda.
    â€˜Nerves of steel, me.’ A brittle laugh. ‘Tell you what does concern me?’ She dragged her chair closer to Elizabeth, opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it.
    â€˜Go on, spit it out.’
    Apparently reluctant, she sighed, then: ‘Quinn’s a ditherer. Indecisive, overcautious. Sometimes you can’t just sit back and wait for developments. You have to make things happen.’
    She had an idea where Caroline was coming from now, feigned ignorance and hid growing impatience. ‘And this is one of them?’
    â€˜I think so. And if it is, surely we have to do anything and everything to find Olivia?’
    â€˜And how do we do that?’ As if she didn’t know. She wanted to hear how Caroline would phrase it. The body language was expressive, too. Leaning forward she took Elizabeth’s hands, fixed her with a compelling gaze. ‘The case needs exposure. We have to go public, get lots of media coverage.’
    â€˜The case?’ Glaring, Elizabeth broke Caroline’s grasp. ‘We’re talking about my daughter here.’
    â€˜I’m so sorry.’ She raised both palms. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. This isn’t easy for me either. All I care about is getting Livvie back. I really didn’t mean to upset you. I got carried away.’ Was the contrition genuine? Elizabeth imagined she’d had lots of practise.
    â€˜I don’t see the problem, or your point. The police will surely want to release details given—’
    â€˜A boring statement. A talking head cop. I can hear it now.’ She adopted a police-speak voice: ‘We are anxious to trace the last known whereabouts of blah blah blah.’ She flapped a hand. ‘That’s not going to do it.’
    She was beginning to understand why Caroline was so successful. Most people would be taken in by the passion, the persuasive powers. Most people.
    â€˜So what is?’
    â€˜An interview with you, footage of Livvie, an appeal for witnesses to come forward. If she’s being held against her will, coverage could flush the abductor into the open, force him into making a mistake.’
    â€˜And if the error’s fatal? That’s far too high a price for giving you a free hand.’
    â€˜But, Elizabeth.’
    â€˜No. I’m sorry. I’ll be guided by the police on this. If they think it’s the way forward, so be it. But I’d have thought with the bogus call to the school and the letter from the abductor . . .’
    â€˜Sorry, what did you say?’
    â€˜Letter from the abductor.’ Frowning, Elizabeth reached out a hand. ‘Are you all right, dear?’

THIRTEEN
    â€˜ A ll right, boss?’ DC Harries was in the driving seat, index finger tapping a beat on the wheel. It had just gone noon, but the sun seemed to have clocked off for the day. The sky was slate grey. Traffic was mostly white van. ‘You seem a bit quiet.’
    It was one way of putting it. Madison had been on the phone. The news conference was set for two p.m. DC Smug Bugger. Sarah gazed through the passenger window, not really taking it in, her focus elsewhere. ‘It’s called thinking. Try it some time.’ It was a cheap, unwarranted pop; she almost apologized.
    Few bars of tuneless humming then: ‘I don’t mind, boss. No worries.’
    Interest piqued, she turned her head. ‘Mind what?’
    â€˜Taking it out on me.’ He gave a lopsided smile. ‘I quite like being your whipping boy.’
    Despite the dark