The Poole Harbour Murders by Rachel McLean, book 10 in the Dorset Crime series - Chapter 1

Izzy Davison sat at the reception desk of the Sandbanks Hotel, her eyes heavy. The clock read 2am.

She leaned back, listening to the soft hum of the intercom system and the background swoosh of the sea beyond the windows. The baby-listening service was part of her job, and usually, she didn’t mind it. But tonight was different.

The baby in 204 – Ellie, her name was – had been crying for the past hour. Her wails echoed through the intercom, piercing the quiet of the hotel lobby.

Izzy sighed, looking around. The place was deserted. She picked up the phone and dialled the duty manager.

“Yeah?” His voice was gruff, tired.

“Mr Thompson, it’s Izzy. On baby-listening. It’s Room 204. The baby’s been crying for ages.”

“Parents not back yet?”

“No sign of them.”

He grunted. “I’ll check it out.”

Izzy put the phone down, her fingers tapping the desk. She listened. The crying had stopped. She hoped the manager had sorted it.

The minutes dragged. She flicked through the other intercoms, devices the hotel lent to parents so they could go out for the evening without having to take small children with them. She rubbed her eyes, yawning, and tried to focus on her work, but her mind kept drifting back to Ellie.

At 5am, the crying started again.

Izzy straightened, her heart sinking. She listened, bending towards the intercom. She waited for someone to shush the baby.

Nothing.

She checked the guest log. Mr and Mrs Sharp. Surely they’d be back by now?

By 6am, she couldn’t take it anymore. She stood, smoothing down her skirt, and headed for the lift.

She rode up in the lift, listening to its creaking and the sounds of the hotel coming to life. Distant toilets flushing, the hum of pipes in the wall. She stifled another yawn and tried to picture the baby in her cot. Alone in that room.

Surely not.

Room 204 was at the end of the corridor. She hesitated outside the door, then knocked softly. No answer.

She knocked again, then used her pass key to enter. The room was dark, the curtains drawn. Ellie’s cries were louder now, desperate.

Izzy opened the curtains just a crack and moved to the cot. The baby was red-faced, her tiny fists clenched. Izzy lifted her, cradling her gently.

“It’s alright, lovey,” she murmured. “It’s alright.”

She looked over towards the bed. It was empty, the sheets unruffled. The little slabs of chocolate from turndown service were untouched on the pillows.

She looked down at the baby. “Where are your mum and dad, eh?”

A voice made her jump. “What are you doing?”

She turned. A man stood in the doorway, his expression hard.

“Mr Sharp,” she said, pushing her shoulders back. She reminded herself she had a right to be here. “Your daughter… she’s been crying for hours.”

He frowned, stepping into the room. He took Ellie from her, yanking the little bundle from her arms.

Izzy looked from the baby to him. “Where’s Mrs Sharp?”

“Rowena?” He cast about the room, only now spotting the neat bed. “I don’t… I don’t know.” He turned back to Izzy, his eyes dark. “You can leave now.”

“Are you sure? You don’t need help?” She looked at the baby, wriggling in her father’s arms.

“I said you can leave.”

Izzy swallowed. She gave a little bob, feeling foolish, and made for the lift.

Why had they left that poor baby alone all night? And where was her mother?