Lucy Fielding is six years old, and lives with her mother, Jane Fielding, at number 12 Carleton Road, Sheffield. Recent disturbances in Lucy's life appear to have begun after she went missing in Endcliffe park on 6th June...
Lucy sat on the swing, and pushed it as far back as her legs would allow. She lifted her feet off the ground and pulled herself into the seat.
Lean back and push, lean back and push. She hadn't been able to swing herself at the beginning of the summer. Now she could swing herself far higher than Emma would push her. Lean back and push.
She'd escaped from Emma. Emma would be pissed off - mum's favourite word.
"Wait in the playground," Emma had said. She meant the small playground, but Lucy didn't want to do that. She liked the big playground better, even if it did mean a long walk.
She'd been waiting in the small playground, feeling cross and upset. It wasn't fair! Then suddenly he was there - Come on, Lucy. Quick! - and they were off on a magic ride to the big playground through the woods, across the big road she wasn't allowed to cross by herself.
Extract from a report by DI Steve McCarthy:
...details in the child's drawings. In the light of this, strongly recommend that Lucy Fielding is interviewed again to see if she can give any more information about the murder of Emma Allan.
Lucy's colouring book and crayons were on the table and Suzie moved them to one side. She tried not to look at the picture Lucy had been drawing, but it pulled at her attention and she found herself staring at it as she listened to Heather telling Jane again that it was still early days, that most missing children turned up safe and sound.
It was a typical child's drawing, a blue sky across the top of the page, and green grass across the bottom. Two figures, a tall one and a small one, stood on the grass. Their arms came out of the sides of their heads, each finger carefully drawn. They were holding hands.
Lucy and Jane. Suzie looked more closely. No, the taller figure had brown hair. Lucy and Sophie?
Suzie could picture Lucy sitting at the table, hunched intently over the paper, her face serious, talking her way through the picture, partly to herself, partly to her mother and Suzie. And they're in the park and they're walking on the big field and also they're holding hands and they're smiling, look...
But these faces weren't smiling, she noticed. The mouths were turned down, grim.
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