‘CID can handle it,’ Jones replied. ‘It’s a bunch of teenagers fighting back, from what I’ve heard.’ He exhaled a breath down the phone. It sounded like he was smoking a cigarette, so she gathered he was outside. ‘We need you back here, pronto.’
Amy didn’t doubt it. High-profile criminals did not put their activities on hold just because she had left. ‘I need more time.’ She nibbled on her bottom lip. ‘It would be a shame to give Clacton all the glory when it’s so close to being solved.’ Amy was appealing to her super’s vanity. She didn’t care about glory like he did, but she did care about getting results. These kids deserved the best from her. She could not hand back an unsolved investigation when they were so close to the truth.
‘Very well, Winter. Twenty-four hours and not a minute more. Don’t disappoint me.’
Amy checked her watch as the call came to an end. Pulling her planner from her desk, she wrote ‘24 hours’ in big letters. Every minute would need to be accounted for. In Clacton, officers were out in force, patrolling the pier, beaches and buildings. Drones, dogs and the force helicopter had been involved. But such resources were costly, and their budget was running low. All fingers pointed to the group of kids Molly had encountered beneath the pier. They had motive, were in each area and possibly left a calling card of a graffiti tag. Height-wise they fitted the bill, and had access to needles and the drugs needed to weaken their victims prior to each kill. The investigation had taken hundreds of man-hours, with CCTV from each of the murder locations being integral to their enquiries. Matty and April’s image had been picked up on shop CCTV in Brighton, Blackpool and Clacton, along with others in their group. But their pick-pocketing was a cover for something sinister. These teenagers were not determining their own fate. There was a puppeteer at work, and Amy’s team was closing in. Which is why she had arranged for another meeting with children’s social care.
They had forwarded Carla’s email enquiries. They had been sent from Carla’s secure police national network email address, which was needed for a response from social care. But Carla had covered her tracks and deleted everything she sent. It was a matter Amy would be discussing with DCI Donovan. Carla was hardly the ‘golden child’ he made her out to be.
But first, she had to put Sally-Ann out of her misery. There would never be a good time to break the news that she had a daughter, and she had overloaded her team with taskings which would keep them busy while she was gone. She knew deep down that no good would come from this meeting. But she could never turn her back on the sister who willingly sacrificed her own life to save hers.
Amy flanked Sally-Ann as they strode past the daytime shoppers and holidaymakers that flooded the streets at this time of year. A bus rumbled past on the one-way street, belching out a plume of smoke. Today, Sally-Ann would come to recognise the devastation her mother had caused. Lillian had known the truth about Sally-Ann’s offspring all along. She had tried to ease her conscience by telling Amy. It was a surprise to discover she had a conscience at all.
‘Someone’s exhaust needs replacing,’ Amy said, flapping smoke from her face as they walked. But Sally-Ann was too engrossed in her thoughts to hear her. Amy would never understand how her sister had made peace with Lillian, the one woman in the world whose job it was to protect her.
Amy had remained the only family member who could not be swayed. For a narcissistic psychopath like Lillian, that must have been a bitter pill to swallow. Lillian had fought back the best way she knew by keeping the truth to herself – until now. Despite the odds, Lillian had given her the name of Sally-Ann’s daughter, who had been right under her nose.
Amy had been astonished to discover her identity. It seemed like more than a coincidence that they had already met. Perhaps fate had given them a helping hand after all. Raised in Clacton, Sally-Ann’s biological daughter had travelled throughout the UK. But to be caught up in the very case Amy was working on? The coincidence was eerie.
Now Sally-Ann was fiddling with her dress, her hair, her jewellery as she prepared to meet her child. ‘I’ve found them,’ Amy had told her, without giving their identity away. ‘They’re a professional, involved in the investigation. I’ve arranged a meeting. They won’t know who you are.’ Shocked that Amy already knew them, Sally-Ann had been overcome by emotion, and grateful for any contact at all.
They were almost at the designated meeting point, and Amy reiterated her conditions. ‘Don’t mention who you are, no matter how much you want to,’ Amy warned. ‘God knows, I wouldn’t wish our bloodlines on anyone.’
‘I won’t,’ Sally-Ann said, almost breathless with nerves. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’
Amy gave a long, hard look at her sister. ‘I don’t know . . . You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.’
Closing her eyes, Sally-Ann inhaled some deep breaths. ‘I’m OK. Honestly. Look . . .’ She held up her hand. ‘No movement. Ninja calm. You’ll barely know I’m here.’
They were outside McDonald’s now, and Amy had arranged to meet at the fountains across the road. The young woman was dressed in black, sitting on a bench waiting for Amy to show. There was caution in Amy’s voice as she halted her sister’s movements. ‘Wait. I need to tell you something.’ Now, Amy was the one feeling nervous. She could not put it off any more. ‘Lillian lied about your son. That’s why you couldn’t find him. It’s why you’re better off away from her.’
The blood drained from Sally-Ann’s face as she looked around. ‘He’s not here, is he?’
Amy shook her head.
‘You brought me here to teach me a lesson.’ Sally-Ann glared at her sister in a look of stunned disbelief. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he? And here was I, thinking he was part of some paedophile ring. Trying to get my head around it all. They killed him.’ Tears brimmed as her emotions swept her away. ‘Used him up and killed him before he could tell anyone.’
Amy flushed. She had been wrong to hold back the truth until now. ‘Hey, it’s OK.’ She took her sister’s hand. ‘Your child is here, and very much alive. But Lillian lied to you. I’ve got a niece . . . and you’ve got a daughter.’
Sally-Ann’s eyes shone as she took in the news. ‘No . . . that can’t be right. I . . . I had a boy.’
Amy hated her mother for what she had put Sally-Ann through. ‘Did you though? Lillian never said you had a son; you did. She just went along with it.’
‘What? Why would she do that?’
‘So you’d never find her,’ Amy said. But she took no joy in the revelation.
‘So how did you know . . .’ Sally-Ann stared at her sister as the realisation sunk in. ‘Mum told you in hospital, didn’t she?’
Amy nodded. ‘She must have been hedging her bets. Trying to keep us on side in case she took a turn.’
‘Or she could have been remorseful for what she’d done.’ Sally-Ann dabbed her eyes with a tissue before blowing her nose.
‘Why do you see the good in everyone?’ Amy felt irked. Her plan had backfired. By withholding the information, she had become the bad guy. She stepped out of the way as a family with a double buggy walked past.
‘The question is, why don’t you?’ Sally-Ann replied with sympathy in her eyes. ‘Not everyone is out to get you.’
‘Tell that to her victims.’ Amy sighed. ‘Look. I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. I wanted you to see her for what she was. This is meant to be a happy day. So, let’s do this. Do you want to meet your daughter?’
Swallowing, Sally-Ann nodded. ‘All these years, I imagined my son growing up. I pictured him climbing trees, playing football. I can’t believe I had a little girl.’
‘Well, you have one, and she’s sitting on that bench right there. Now c’mon,’ Amy said, checking for traffic before crossing the road.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
‘Hi, sorry, do you mind if my sister joins us?’ Amy smiled. ‘She’s a health professional.’ It was stretching the truth, but the best excuse Amy could think of for bringing her sis
ter along.
Rising from the bench, Rachel looked from Amy to Sally-Ann, seemingly at a loss for words. She was dressed in skinny black jeans, Dr. Martens and a sleeveless black shirt. Today, her hair was swept back from her face, and only now could Amy see her resemblance to Sally-Ann.
‘Well . . . I . . .’ Rachel muttered, looking Sally-Ann up and down.
Tentatively, Sally-Ann shook Rachel’s hand. ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said, breaking the ice with small talk.
Amy slipped on her sunglasses, feeling a mixture of pride and sadness envelop her. Pride for the young woman Rachel was, and sadness that they were not meeting under better circumstances. It was probably best that Rachel never knew her true parentage. She only hoped that Sally-Ann could resist blurting it out.
‘So, you weren’t tempted to join the police too?’ Rachel asked Sally-Ann as they sat together on the bench. Before them, the fountain shot spurts of water from the ground in a timed display.
‘Goodness, no.’ Sally-Ann laughed. ‘I’m not brave enough for that. I work in a private hospital.’
‘It’s pretty brave though, isn’t it? Palliative care. You must feel their loss.’
‘I suppose,’ Sally-Ann replied. ‘Much like social care, I guess. We all try to do our best.’
‘Have you had any progress with Matty?’ Amy said, steering the conversation to the case.
‘Yes, thanks to you. We know who he is.’ Rachel cast a cautious eye over Sally-Ann. ‘Life hasn’t been kind to him, but he’s still young enough to turn things around.’
‘I don’t suppose it’s been easy for any of them,’ Sally-Ann replied, the smile fading from her face. She unzipped her bag, slid out a bottle of mineral water and took a sip. The sun was high in the sky now, beating down on their backs. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ she said to Rachel, pointing to a nearby newsagent’s.
Amy gave her sister a tight shake of the head. She’d be asking to buy her a lollipop next.
‘I’m fine,’ Rachel said, turning her attention back to Amy. ‘I can fill you in on Matthew’s history as long as this won’t go outside professional circles.’ She was asking Amy if Sally-Ann could be trusted.
‘Of course,’ Amy said. ‘If you follow up with an email later, I’ll add it to the report.’
Satisfied, Rachel continued. ‘Matthew’s home life has been chaotic, with one “dad” after the other. We got involved after his mother’s boyfriend dangled him out of the window of their high-rise flat for making noise.’ A group of children splashed in the water before them, their laughter carrying in the air. It was painfully at odds with the dark scene Rachel was describing.
Sally-Ann paled. ‘That poor boy.’ Amy shot her a glance to keep quiet. She should not be privy to any of this information, much less be commenting on it.
‘He was severely traumatised. But that’s only half the story,’ Rachel said, seemingly over her initial reservations. ‘Matty’s big sister stabbed the boyfriend in the back when he brought Matty inside.’
Amy shook her head. Trauma like that did not go away. No wonder Matty looked so haunted in the picture Molly had captured from FaceTime. ‘What happened to his sister?’
‘She was sent to a young offender’s institute for GBH with intent. Matty’s mum was given a choice: her son or her boyfriend. Do you know what she said?’
Amy swallowed, her throat tight. Sitting here with her niece discussing child abandonment was beginning to feel very wrong.
‘Have him,’ Rachel said, referring to her notes. ‘He’s more trouble than he’s worth.’ She glanced up at Amy, her voice low. ‘That poor kid was taken kicking and screaming as he begged her to let him stay. She’s dead now. Beaten to a pulp in a domestic abuse incident.’
‘Does Matty know?’ Sally-Ann interjected.
‘He knows.’ She glanced at Sally-Ann. ‘It’s why he latched on to your DC, Molly Baxter, so quickly. She looks uncannily like his sister.’
‘At least Matty survived.’ Sally-Ann’s words were faint.
Rachel nodded. ‘He’s better off without them.’
Amy frowned. What a strange thing to say. The point of social care was to support families, not break them apart. Perhaps when his sister served her time, she could take Matty under her wing. But at the moment, the onus was on finding him. She was about to say as much when Sally-Ann took a breath to speak.
‘How did you know? That I work in palliative care, I mean. I’ve only been doing it for six months.’
Rachel’s smile became rigid as the two women exchanged a glance. ‘You work in a hospital, so I presumed . . .’
Oh God, Amy thought, seeing what was coming. ‘Why don’t we change the subject—’
‘You know, don’t you?’ Sally-Ann said, the atmosphere becoming charged.
Amy glared at her sister. Coming here had been a bad idea.
‘I’ve always known,’ Rachel replied, relaxing into the metal bench.
Amy fell into stunned silence. Around them, the children screamed in laughter, but she could not hear any of it. All she could hear was the beating of her own heart. ‘So that’s why . . .’ she began to say to Rachel.
‘Why I took the case? Well, yes, of course,’ Rachel interrupted. ‘As soon as I heard you were coming to Clacton, I got myself assigned to it. I’m freelance. I work through an agency. It wasn’t hard.’
Amy shook her head as she realised she had been played. The supreme forces of fate had not drawn them together after all.
‘When you say you know . . .’ Sally-Ann sounded half-afraid of the answer.
‘My parents told me that I was adopted from an early age, but I had to keep it a secret or I’d be taken away from them. When I was old enough to take the news, they told me exactly who I was.’
‘Why would you be taken away?’ Sally-Ann said, her head tilted to one side.
‘The adoption was illegal. My parents chose me like a puppy in a pet shop, then passed me off as their own.’ Rachel’s voice rose in defiance. ‘But you know what? I’m glad they did. I couldn’t have asked for a better home.’ Her kohl-rimmed eyes darted from Amy to Sally-Ann. ‘I trust you won’t want this going public. Mum and Dad are good people. I don’t want to hurt them.’
‘We won’t breathe a word,’ Amy said. ‘But I wish you’d told me the first time we met.’
‘I needed to suss you out first. I wanted to see if there were any decent people in the Grimes family tree. Seems there are.’ But she was looking at Amy, not Sally-Ann.
‘I have so many questions,’ Sally-Ann said softly.
‘Sorry.’ Leaning over, Rachel picked up her bag and shoved her paperwork inside. ‘But I’m not here to answer them. I’m done.’ She rose from the bench, her words sounding very much like goodbye.
‘But . . .’ Sally-Ann stood. ‘I don’t want anything from you, apart from getting to know you a little better. Please . . . we can take it at your pace.’
Amy rested a hand on her sister’s forearm. She hated to see her beg.
‘I’ve got a mum, and she’s all I’ll ever need. She knows I’m here, but she doesn’t trust you, and I can’t say I blame her.’
Amy watched her sister’s face crumple. ‘Please, hang on a minute . . .’ she said, taking a step forward.
But Rachel’s expression was stony cold. ‘I thought maybe that I’d feel some kind of connection . . . but there’s nothing. I’ve satisfied my curiosity. But that’s as far as it goes. I don’t want anything to do with the Grimes family.’
‘I know how you feel,’ Amy reasoned. ‘Because I felt that way once too. But Sally-Ann is a good soul. Please, give her a chance. Is it too much to ask to have a coffee together every now again?’
‘I’m afraid it is.’ Rachel hoisted the strap of her handbag over her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, but at least now you can move on with your life.’ Her gaze fell on Sally-Ann. ‘I’m happy, I’m well, surely that’s all you need to know?’
But Sally-Ann wasn’t ready to give up. R
ooting in her handbag, she pulled out a pen. ‘We won’t mention you to Lillian. It’ll be our secret.’ Tears formed in her eyes as she searched in her bag, her movements becoming more frantic by the second. ‘Where’s my notebook?’ She tugged open zips, discarding items on the ground. A packet of tissues. A make-up compact. She grasped an unwritten postcard from Clacton, swiping away her tears. ‘Here’s my address. My phone number too. Ring me anytime. Or write, you could write.’
But Rachel pressed the postcard back into Sally-Ann’s hands. ‘Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.’ She slid her hand into her bag. ‘Here. It’s all I can give you.’ She slipped an old photograph into Sally-Ann’s hands. It was one of her as a baby; she couldn’t have been more than a week old.
Amy left her sister standing next to the benches as she followed Rachel down the road. ‘Look, I don’t blame you, but Sally-Ann is fragile. Couldn’t you send her a letter every now and again?’
‘I don’t owe her anything.’ Rachel’s movements were stiff and mechanical as she marched down the footpath. ‘I came here for closure, and I got it. She should try therapy. It did wonders for me.’
Amy stood, watching the young woman march away. This had been a mistake. She never should have arranged to meet. What had she been expecting, after all? That Rachel would suddenly sense they were related and fall into Sally-Ann’s arms?
Her footsteps heavy, she returned to her sister, who was still staring at the photograph. ‘Oh, sis,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Do you want me to get Paddy?’ She retrieved her mobile phone from her pocket.
‘No – I’ll be fine,’ Sally-Ann replied. ‘And you need to be getting back.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Amy said, picking up her sister’s discarded items from the ground.
‘Go find Matty,’ Sally-Ann said, still tightly gripping the photo. ‘Help him. Like someone helped my little girl.’
Flesh and Blood (A DI Amy Winter Thriller) Page 23