52

Lennon forced the panic back down to his gut, willed himself to be calm even amongst the nausea and trembling. He turned another circle, picking over every detail, looking behind and through the people. He called her name again. Some glanced up from their trays of food, others ignored him.

The cleaner slipped past, and he grabbed her sleeve.

She spun, pulled her arm away. ‘What do you think you’re—’

‘Have you seen her?’

‘What?’ Her face turned from anger to confusion and back again. ‘Seen who?’

‘The little girl.’ Lennon grabbed her shoulders. ‘She was with me just now. By the bin. You were putting some rubbish in. She’s about five or six, blonde hair.’

Her expression softened. ‘No, I never saw her. Have you lost her?’

Lennon turned another circle, searching, the panic climbing back up to his throat.

The woman pulled on his shoulder. ‘You’d best go down to reception. They’ll announce it on the speakers. She’ll be all right, don’t you—’

He walked away, calling, ‘Ellen? Ellen!’

The tide of people on the stairs pushed against him as he descended to the ground floor. He moved faster, ignoring their complaints as he shoved them aside.

‘Ellen!’

A security guard left his post at the exit and approached. ‘You all right there, big fella?’ he asked.

‘My daughter,’ Lennon said, continuing to turn and search. ‘She’s gone.’

‘Well don’t worry, we’ll get an announcement out. Kids are always getting bored and wandering—’

Lennon gripped the guard’s shirt collar. ‘You don’t understand. Someone might have taken her.’

‘All right, all right.’ He prised Lennon’s fingers away. ‘No need to be putting your hands on me, sir. We’ll get it sorted, but just keep the head, okay?’

‘Call the police, Grosvenor Road is closest. Tell them DCI Lennon needs urgent assistance. Tell them a child’s in trouble.’

‘You’re a peeler?’ the guard asked.

Lennon grabbed his tie, brought the guard’s nose to his. ‘Just fucking call them!’