A Is for Abigail by Victoria Twead

against the wall, but the handlebars twisted round and it fell. His second attempt was more successful.
    “Morning, sir,” he said as Aiden swung the door open. “Ready to start the search now that it’s light?”
    “Morning, Stan, I’m more than ready. And I’ve just made a bit of a discovery. Somebody has been in the guest cottage. It’s unlocked and the door was open a crack.”
    “Did you search it?”
    “Yes, I think she was there, but she’s gone now.”
    “Well, bearing in mind that Mrs Martin didn’t take her car, or any possessions really, I don’t believe she’s gone far. Of course she was weighed down with the baby, too. And I think you would have passed her down the lane last night if she had gone that way. We know she’d only just left before you arrived because you said the water was still hot in the kettle.”
    “Where is she then?”
    “We’ll find her, sir. My intention is that we search until midday. After that, well, then we have a bit of a problem. We can’t register Mrs Martin as a missing person. She’s an adult and can do as she pleases. However, she’s taken the baby. Unfortunately, if we go official, then she could be charged with kidnapping.”
    Aiden sighed. He blamed himself. Abigail had taken flight because of him. He was totally responsible. He’d made no attempt to understand how much she yearned for a baby. No, he’d not only high-handedly announced that he’d never adopt somebody else’s child, but he’d also had an affair behind her back. He didn’t deserve her.
    No wonder she couldn’t face him with a baby in her arms. No wonder she’d run away. And because of him she could now be looking at a serious criminal charge.
    Aiden had lain awake most of the night, listening out for the slightest sound. His thoughts churned in his head like the contents of a cement mixer. Eventually he’d fallen into a fitful sleep, promising himself that when he found her, he’d beg her forgiveness.
    “I’m guessing she didn’t cross the gravel at all, or you’d have heard her,” remarked the policeman.
    “What? You think she may have gone down the garden and across the fields?”
    “It’s possible…”
    “Right! Let’s go! No, Sam, you can’t come.”
    Sam’s ears were pricked and his delight at an unexpected early morning walk was evident.
    “Excuse me, sir, but I think Sam might be able to help us here. He’s a retriever, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, perhaps if you let him sniff something of the baby’s, he might be able to help with the search?”
    “Genius! Yes! Do you know, Stan, I think you may be onto something there!”
    Aiden grabbed a towelling bib that was lying on the kitchen table and held it up to Sam’s nose. Sam wagged his tail.
    “Go find it, Sam, go find it!”

Chapter Thirteen
     
    Sam was in his element. This is what he was born for! Feathery tail swishing furiously, he bounded out of the kitchen door and into the garden. Nose down, he trotted along the path until he came to the guest house.
    The two men looked at each other. Neither man was surprised, but they were definitely impressed by the dog’s sense of smell.
    Aiden let Sam into the guest cottage. Sam sniffed around, particularly near the window, then ran outside again, along the hedge, towards the bottom of the garden.
    “Hold on, boy,” panted Aiden, and clipped a lead onto his collar. “Okay, go find it!”
    Sam usually walked perfectly on the lead, but today he was on a mission. Today he was hunting down the little human that smelled of milk. His nose never stopped working and he strained on his lead, pulling so hard that Aiden was forced to jog, the policeman trotting close behind.
    Sam skirted the garden, paws soaked by the dewy grass. He followed his nose, and that took him along the hedgerow, exactly where Abigail had walked the night before. When he came to the gap in the hedge, he didn’t hesitate. He pushed through, tugging his master behind him.
    “Shucks!” said