CHILDHUNT: A Mystery & Suspense Thriller in the Bestselling Diana Rivers Series (The Diana Rivers Mysteries Book 5) by Faith Mortimer Page B

modern. She had taken all her old garments and bundled them up for the charity shops. Shopping for new clothes had taken her mind off things for a few hours.
    Debbie still had a few remnants of that shopping expedition: a pair of jeans and a shirt or two. That was why the photo of her was the biggest shock of all. It was taken when she left England to come to Cyprus. The airport had been crowded, as it was near the Easter holidays and the busiest time for travel to and from the island. She travelled on her own and spoke to no one until she was sitting on the plane. She really thought she had managed to slip away unnoticed to begin a new life.
    But someone thought differently.
    Now, it would begin all over again. William couldn’t protect her from an evil mind. He couldn’t protect his family. My God! What was she thinking? It was too late. Sally and Stuart had been taken away and murdered, and now Hannah and Charlie were missing.
    She bit her lip so hard she drew blood. No! Please, God, protect my children. Don’t let harm come to Hannah and Charlie. They were playing in the garden. She remembered hearing them playing hide and seek. Charlie was counting down, and no doubt Hannah would have been giggling somewhere not far from her big brother. Charlie looked after his little sister despite teasing her mercilessly, but he was always there for her.
    Last time, last time, last time…it beat against her brain. She fought a sob as it rose to her throat. It was like last time…when they found Stuart and Sally lying together in their sad little grave. Nose to nose and dumped in barely six inches of icy dirt.
    They had to be around somewhere. She heard Roger and William talking softly as the dizziness and darkness came and engulfed her. No, God, not again! Please, no!
     
     
    Chapter 13
    It was highly entertaining, watching from his vantage point. Standing in the near dark and with his Steiner binoculars clamped to his eyes, he saw everyone running around like crazy wasps. There were two police cars in the grounds of the house as far as he could ascertain from their flashing blue lights and four policemen. They were inside the house for half an hour before setting foot outside to search the garden and surrounding orchard.
    He felt like laughing at them. It was almost too pitiful to watch. The local police weren’t renowned for their expertise when it came to searching for missing people. He remembered when two years ago a resident in another valley went missing. She had been ill and confused, but despite their ‘search and rescue’ efforts, the unfortunate woman hadn’t been found until months later. If all went as planned, these two wouldn’t be found until long after he had left the island.
    A drool of saliva ran down his chin. Wiping it away with his sleeve, he realised his armpits and groin were wet where he was sweating inside his jacket. Bored with watching the police, he turned aside, laid down his binoculars and switched his attention to his next move.
    Earlier, on arrival back at the house, he parked the car inside the outhouse, making sure he still had access to the cellar trapdoor. He disguised this by spreading some oily sacks and large plastic bags over the floor and tacking an old stained cloth to the trapdoor itself. With the addition of a pile of rusty oil cans and a few lengths of pipe gleaned from the garden, he reckoned it looked authentic enough as a scruffy, dirty garage.
    He carried the drugged children down to the cellar and laid them on the mattress on the single bed. Despite not feeling the cold himself, he realised small children would soon succumb to the chill if they weren’t cared for.  After gazing at their sleeping faces, he covered them almost tenderly with a blanket, smoothing down their untidy and damp hair. He didn’t want them dying on him; he wanted to play some games first. He then had a thought and removed their shoes. In the unlikely event that one or the other escaped, they