The Mystery of the Empty Pram (The Middle Way Mysteries Book 2)

A Gripping Family Mystery of Secrets, Identity, and a Long-Buried Crime

Twenty-two years ago, two children vanished without a trace. Thirteen-year-old Bron Temperley and his baby brother Theo disappeared from their home, leaving behind only questions and an empty pram. No ransom demand. No sightings. No answers.

When a chance discovery of bones in the garden of the old Temperley house reignites the cold case, private investigators Jenny Meaden and Neeta Biddle begin to unravel a mystery that has haunted a family for decades. Their search leads them to a confident and successful young man who claims to be the missing Bron. While Bron’s brother Graham and their mother Auriol welcome him without hesitation, Jenny and Neeta begin to notice troubling inconsistencies in his story.

As doubts grow and a DNA test raises new questions about his identity, the investigators suspect that the truth lies buried in the past—among a small circle of friends and a holiday taken many years ago in Derbyshire. But someone is determined to keep that past hidden. With attempts on Bron’s life escalating, Jenny and Neeta must uncover what really happened all those years ago before the truth is silenced forever.

The Mystery of the Empty Pram by Mariko McCarthy is the second book in the Middle Way Mysteries series—a compelling tale of deception, family secrets, and the shocking truth behind a decades-old disappearance.

Discover the truth behind the Temperley mystery—start reading The Mystery of the Empty Pram today.

Excerpt from the book

Graham has no words for what has just happened. He simply knows that it’s the most terrible thing ever—that nothing, in all his nine years, comes close to it. As he trudges towards the house, his sandals shove up puffs of dirt from the loosened earth. The sun burns the back of his neck, and his breath leaves his mouth in shallow gasps that seem to echo the painful thudding of his heart.

Now he is skirting the flowerbeds—spiky leaves claw his bare legs. When he’d left the house earlier to walk down through the garden, he’d stopped by the blood-red peonies and carefully separated a few petals. There were ants inside, bustling about, and he’d watched them and let a few crawl over his hand before gently blowing them off. If only he could turn the clock back, to there, to then …

His short-sleeved shirt is sticking to his skin, the groove under his nose is running with sweat. He can taste its salt.

‘Graham!’

He looks up, squinting against the sun’s glare. His mother is standing on the steps to the top lawn, twisting this way and that, holding a hand above her eyes to shade them. Now she’s running towards him.

She knows. How, he has no idea. But—she knows.

She grips his arms.

‘Graham, is Theo with you? Did you take Theo out of his pram?’

He is bemused—what does his baby brother have to do with any of this?

‘Have you seen Theo?’ she insists. ‘If you were playing with him … it’s all right, I’m not angry … Just tell me Gray, please, please …’

He shakes his head slowly. ‘I haven’t seen Theo, Mum.’

She draws a long stuttering breath and races back towards the house, dragging him with her. On the top lawn Theo’s pram stands empty, the net thrown back, the bottom sheet still with a faint dimple where the baby was lying.

His mother is panting for air.

‘Come with me!’

She fumbles with the catch to the side gate, gasping and sobbing. Then they’re stumbling down the alley between their house and the next, between the rose bushes in the front garden, and out into the street.

‘Theo!’ his mother screams. ‘Theo! Theo!’

She runs wildly, clutching his arm, and he tries to match his steps to hers, but he can’t. Once, his toe catches in a jutting paving stone and he nearly falls. She yanks him up, roughly, and they run on. When they reach the first crossroads his mother halts and scans the streets either side, whirling her body round, screwing up her eyes.

‘Theo! Theo!’ Not screaming any more but shoving his name out with each painful breath.

And then he sees them.

‘Look, Mum!’ It’s their friends Dennis and Nell, strolling towards them, talking and laughing together. His mother grips his wrist and they set off again, not stopping until they’re almost on top of them. He sees surprise and alarm break across their faces. Dennis takes hold of his mother’s arms, steadying her, while Nell clasps his hand.