Girl, Missing by Sophie McKenzie

with panic. ‘Where are you taking us?’
    Oh God, oh God. She’s a psycho. Like the sort who Mum says kills two kids a year. And Jam and I are this year’s two kids
.
    Suzanna looked at me in her rearview mirror.
    â€˜Don’t you recognise me, sweetie?’ She grinned nastily and put on a fake, sugar-sweet voice. ‘I’m Sonia Holtwood.’

15
    No escape
    I stared stupidly at the back of her head, at her neat, set, brown hair. She was Sonia Holtwood?
    My mind was too dazed to make sense of it.
    â€˜What do you mean?’ I said.
    â€˜Taylor told me you’ve been asking questions. Trying to find me,’ the woman said, evenly. ‘I decided I’d better find you first.’
    I frowned, still struggling to get my head round what was happening. Taylor, again. Where had I heard that name recently? Then I remembered. It was Mr Tarsen’s first name.
    â€˜Mr Tarsen called you?’ I said.
    â€˜Correct.’ The woman flicked on the car floodlights. ‘He said it was obvious you knew more than you were saying. Not that he
did
anything. No, he just turned off the burglar alarm, hid your file – waited to see what
you
did. Typical freakin’ Taylor.’
    My mind seemed to have crashed like an overloaded computer. I stared out of the window. A dense pine forest was all around us. Snow was falling.
    â€˜But you’re a police officer,’ Jam insisted. ‘We saw your badge.’
    â€˜Costume rental.’ I could hear the smug grin in Sonia Holtwood’s voice. ‘That’s the great thing about tourists. They think they know what cops look like but they’ve only ever seen them on TV shows. If you hadn’t got in the car I’d have arrested you.’ She laughed. ‘So you guys feeling OK?’
    Suddenly it all fell into place. ‘You drugged us,’ I said. ‘The orange juice. You took our phones.’
    I caught Jam’s eye. His face was ghostly pale in the reflected light from the snow-covered trees outside.
    â€˜What do you want?’ My voice trembled. ‘What are you going to do with us?’
    Sonia ignored me. She drove on for half a minute or so more, then pulled the car over to the side of the track. She switched off the ignition but kept the headlamps on.
    Fear flooded through me like ice water. I reached for the door handle and pulled. It was still locked.
    Sonia turned round and stared at us both.
    â€˜You’ve got no idea what it’s like to have nothing,’ she said. ‘No money. No hope. No future.’
    I wrestled with the handle, panic twisting and slicing at my throat. ‘Let us out,’ I shouted.
    â€˜You were a spoilt little princess when you were three as well,’ Sonia sneered. ‘Bright and white and worth a fortune.’
    I turned on her, fury suddenly swamping my fear. ‘You stole me from my family. You—’
    â€˜I was in debt,’ Sonia spat. ‘I needed the money.’
    â€˜You evil piece of—’
    â€˜Shut up.’ Sonia reached out and slapped my face.
    â€˜Hey!’ Jam yelled.
    I gasped at the sudden pain. My hand flew to my cheek. I slumped back into my seat.
    Jam reached out for my hand again.
    I stared at Sonia’s hard, angry face. Beyond her, through the windscreen, white snowflakes fluttered yellow in the light from the car’s headlamps.
    â€˜When Taylor called,’ she said, ‘I could have just turned and run. Taken the risk that the Feds would never find me. And then I thought – why should
I
run? Why should
I
hide? So I followed you from that sleazy motel you were staying in.’
    Her eyes were like black holes. Dead. Empty.
    I suddenly realised why Mr Tarsen hadn’t come after us himself or called the police when we broke into the agency. He knew we could be traced to Marchfield. To him. He didn’t want anyone else looking for us. Only Sonia.
    â€˜We won’t tell anyone what you