“It’s okay,” I coaxed. “I’m here and nothing is going to happen to you. You’re safe, I promise. Look, DCI Stevenson will make sure of that. He’s like a bodyguard. He’s strong, like Superman.” I avoided Stevenson’s eyes, worried he might laugh, or, more likely, grimace. “It’s okay, Aiden.”
The rain continued to patter down, picking up speed, almost drowning out the sound of my voice. I moved forward a few more steps, walking between the first line of trees into the woods. It was a large forest, almost as big as a national park but never given the status. There was rumour of private land bought within the woods, and some was owned by a stately house that resided on a hill overlooking the village. I’d often gone wandering through those woods with Rob, taking our vodka and our cigarettes and worse into the depths. Though it was cold and dark, being there with Rob had always evoked a sense of ticklish danger that warmed my extremities. But now it was different. I saw nothing but pain lurking within those trees. The pain experienced by my son, and the pain I’d felt when he was taken from me.
My coaxing seemed to work. Aiden shuffled forward, finally reaching me. I took his small hand, and found that it was like a block of ice. I rubbed it between my palms, injecting heat into those cold fingers. Aiden was deathly pale. Two bruised eyes looked out at me from beneath the hood, which should have been enough to make me turn back. I didn’t.
“Everything is going to be all right,” I said.
I wanted this to work. I wanted it more than anything. I wanted to find Aiden’s kidnapper and get justice, not just for Aiden, but for me too. How could I sleep at night knowing he was still out there? So I pulled him on. He resisted. He pulled back. I was firm. I stepped on into the woods, holding Aiden’s hand, determined that he would show us what he knew. It was in there, deep down. Everything we needed was in there, locked up tight. I just needed the key and I thought it lay within the leaning beech trees of Rough.
“Come on,” I said, my tone frostier than before, frustration creeping in.
But Aiden was resisting. He refused to move any further, digging his heels into the soft, muddy ground.
“Please, Aiden,” I insisted. If he did this one thing, he could solve everything. I was close to tears as I thought of the monster still out there, still lurking somewhere ready to take my son for a second time. I couldn’t allow that to happen. The answers were inside Aiden, I knew they were, but he refused to tell me. I was reduced to begging him. “Aiden.” I brushed away a tear, aware of everyone watching us, embarrassed, frustrated, and close to the breaking point.
“Maybe we should take a break there, Emma,” said Dr Foster. This time I wasn’t interested in hearing her opinion. She was supposed to be backing me up, wasn’t she? Sisterhood and all that?
“No.” I didn’t recognise my voice, it was more like a growl. There was a hint of wild animal in there, and still I gripped Aiden’s arm while he squirmed away from me, no longer silent but panting heavily. “Aiden, you will show us. You will show us.”
DCI Stevenson held up his hands. “This was a mistake. You were right, Emma. He’s not ready. Let him go.”
“No.” My lips trembled. My voice was virtually unrecognisable. I didn’t know who I was anymore. My face was wet, but whether it was from the rain or from my tears I didn’t know. “Aiden, please.”
“Emma, let the boy go.”
“No.”
“Emma, look at his face.” Dr Foster was firmer this time. “Look at the distress you’re causing him.”
I blinked, bringing the world back into focus. Aiden, where was my Aiden? I shook my head and tried to concentrate. There he was, all grown up, a different boy than when he left. He was red-faced with wide eyes, shaking his head back and forth, leaning away from me with his heels dug firmly in the ground.
“Aiden?” I let him go, and my knees buckled.
14
I’d messed it up. I’d ruined a good shot at finding out more about what Aiden was keeping locked up inside him, and possibly ruined any trust we’d built together.
Even after sitting in the police car with a steaming cup of tea, waiting for the rain to stop, Aiden was terrified of the woods. He was wary of me, too. He flinched when I tried to hold his hand, he backed away when I walked towards him, and he turned his head away from me when I tried to talk to him. I’d made everything a hundred times worse than before.
I felt like the lowest of the low. I was a slight step up from the deranged monster who took him. I was pond scum. Nasty, grimy. I wanted to go home and take a shower to scrub the filth from my body. What kind of person behaves like that with their traumatised child?