The Secret Child (A DI Amy Winter Thriller Book 2)

by Caroline Mitchell

  ‘If you want your exposé, then so be it. My colleagues know all about you. They know I can’t help what a vile family I was born into.’ Amy’s chin tilted upwards in defiance. ‘They accept with good grace the decent, loving people who brought me up. They judge me by my actions, not yours.’

  But Lillian was not listening; she was looking over Amy’s shoulder to the far side of the room. Like many psychopaths, she failed to acknowledge the words she did not want to hear. In Lillian’s world, her actions were justified. She had done nothing wrong. ‘See her over there?’ She pointed to a pale, pock-skinned woman in the corner of the room. Her stringy blonde hair was scraped back off her face, and Amy caught her regarding Lillian with a cautious gaze.

  ‘She’s my girlfriend. We call her Mighty Mouse.’ Lillian smiled. ‘She got banged up for dealing. That’s her daughter visiting her. We’re proper kindred souls.’

  For once, Amy was lost for words. Why the hell would a mother of any kind get together with Lillian Grimes?

  ‘It’s amazing what people will do for a little bit of Black Mamba,’ Lillian said, as if reading her mind. ‘And I’ve got plenty of connections on the inside.’

  Amy was all too aware of Black Mamba. Also known as Spice, the synthetic drug left its users in a zombie-like state. The emergency services were called so often to some prisons they were referred to by inmates as Mambulances. It was not unusual for inmates to deal on the inside in order to make money or garner friends, but Lillian being involved in drugs? This was news to Amy. ‘You’re dealing? That’s risky.’ She was still a police officer, and if intelligence presented itself she would use it to her advantage. Anything to keep Lillian behind bars.

  ‘Me? Deal drugs? Pfft! I don’t touch that shit. I just introduced her to people who do.’ A smile touched her lips. ‘She was ever so grateful . . .’ Lillian winked. ‘You’ve got to love the system. Mind you, I won’t be seeing her once I get out. Women are fine if there’s nothing else on offer, but I do miss a nice rigid—’

  ‘I didn’t come here to talk about your sex life,’ Amy interrupted, trying but failing to hide her disgust.

  The space between them was speared by a titter as Lillian threw back her head and laughed. ‘Forgive me. Children don’t like hearing about their parents’ sex lives, do they? You can blame Adam. He got me all hot under the collar, and I needed some . . . release. As I said to Adam, that DI Donovan must be good in the sack if you dumped the Italian stallion in favour of him.’

  Amy’s spirits plummeted. How did Lillian know so much about her? But she would not give her the satisfaction by asking. ‘I’m warning you. Quit contacting me, or I’ll have you done for harassment. If you’re arrested, it will go against your appeal – another conviction to add to your long line of offences. You’ll never get out of here.’ Amy leaned forward, driving her message home. ‘I have proof. Plenty of my colleagues have received calls from you in recent weeks.’

  ‘They got a call from someone claiming to be your mother, and I believe the number was blocked. Now, I know that poor delicate Flora won’t be up for testifying in court to say it wasn’t her. And I also know you won’t slap a harassment order on me because you won’t want the intrusion into your private life. You can’t kid a kidder, Amy.’ Lillian’s lips parted in a sly smile. ‘I’m your mum. I know when you’re lying, and it’s my guess they don’t know about us yet.’

  ‘This is the last time I visit.’ Collecting herself, Amy prepared to leave. There was no point in wasting any more time here today.

  Another titter in response. ‘And how many times have you said that? Yet here you are. Like a boomerang, finding your way back to me.’ The air between them cooled as Lillian met her gaze. Her body tense, Amy found herself unable to look away.

  ‘You can blame me all you want, but you can’t resist the pull. Poppy Grimes still lives in a little dark place inside you and she’s crying out to be free. Can you imagine living life without limits?’ She took a slow breath. ‘Maybe one day you’ll realise that and maybe you won’t, but mark my words: I will always be part of your life. It will be you making sure of that, not me.’ Satisfied, she sat back in her chair. ‘So why don’t you start by telling me why you’re really here?’

  Blinking, Amy inhaled a sudden, quick breath. It was as if she had been entranced, and she hated herself for allowing the woman to creep under her skin. She was loath to ask Lillian for help, but they were no further on with finding Ellen and she needed all the assistance she could get. Lillian listened intently as she ran through details of her communications with Luka to date. Spent, she leaned back in her seat, hoping Lillian would provide her with the answers she desperately needed right now. ‘Why? Why are they doing this? I don’t understand what the kidnapper is getting out of it.’

  ‘You’re asking me for help in my capacity as a serial killer?’ Lillian regarded Amy with mistrust.

  ‘No,’ Amy replied, knowing such accusations would not get her on side. ‘But you’ve lived with one. You know how they work. What’s the best way to handle Luka?’

  ‘Just like I handled your father?’ The smile returned to Lillian’s face.

  Amy nodded. She knew Lillian was equally culpable but she would pretend to think otherwise if it meant helping Ellen. Her parents had done untold damage. This was her way of putting things right.

  ‘Then let me tell you. It’s the game this Luka is getting off on, not the actual kill.’

  It was said with such authority that Amy struggled to maintain eye contact. She clenched her fists beneath the table and the sudden sting of pain from her fingertips brought her firmly back in control. ‘Go on.’

  ‘All this drama, pretending to be Luka, setting up the call. He’s enjoying the attention. Killing the child will bring it to an end.’

  ‘So you think she’s alive?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. He wants you to think she is, though. He probably saw where they had marked that concrete pillar and pinned her nightdress to the other side. Not that difficult to do, if you can distract the workers long enough to sneak in.’

  ‘How would he distract them if he was trying to get on site at the same time?’

  ‘Oh, come on, hasn’t it occurred to you yet? He’s not working alone.’

  Amy frowned as she considered the implications of Lillian’s words.

  ‘How else has he been able to watch you, stay one step ahead?’ Lillian continued. ‘And he’s had a lot of time to brood on this . . . years, by the sound of it.’

  For once in her life Amy was speechless. She had never for a moment considered there was more than one person involved.

  Lillian’s voice lowered as she leaned forward, speaking so only they could hear. ‘Tell me, do you think about the murder victims when you’re in bed at night?’ Her eyes glittered with dark intent. ‘Do you touch their faces, gain a little bit of pleasure from the coldness of their skin? Does your pulse quicken at the prospect of attending a murder scene?’

  ‘Is there anything else?’ Amy replied, briefly snapping her eyes shut. She knew she should stay for longer, try to tease out what she could. But the words leaving her mother’s lips made her sick to the core.

  ‘Ooh, I’m right, aren’t I?’ Lillian’s eyes grew wide, following her daughter’s movements as Amy folded her arms tightly across her chest. ‘The only difference between you and me is that you have the law on your side.’

  Amy shook her head in amazement. How quickly this woman could change, one moment playing up the fact she was falsely accused and the next trying to reel Amy into her games. Did she have dual personalities? Amy wondered why she was pandering to the type of predator she had spent her career trying to protect people from. Then the alarm activated, telling them visiting time was up. ‘Goodbye, Lillian,’ she said firmly as she stood to leave. She did not wait for a response before turning and walking away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The Curtis Institute, December 1984

  Floating in his chamber, Luk
a was frozen in fear. Darkness had closed in from every angle. As the water temperature dropped, the cold pricked his skin like a thousand tiny needles. The tests had progressed, and he would have given anything to go back to choosing between coloured sweets and cake. It wasn’t the physical discomfort that frightened him, it was the feeling of impending doom. The monsters were coming, and he was too weak to fight them any more. He had promised himself that he would not cry. He would not give the doctor the satisfaction of reading his emotions. Every sob, every wail, had been documented up until now.

  It had been weeks since he had been allowed outside. Isolation was part of the experiment – it was as if they wanted him to fall apart. The tablets he was forced to swallow were followed by hallucinations which hunted him down mercilessly. Vomiting sessions had carved bony cheekbones into his face and his skin was paper-white from lack of sun. Dr Curtis was pushing him hard and Luka didn’t know how much more he could take. His thoughts were stolen by a malevolent presence lurking in his periphery. The monsters were here, dark creatures with bulging eyes and sharpened teeth. He told himself they weren’t real. But his pulse pounded as he heard their feet drag, his name on their laboured breaths.

  Luka’s fists grew rigid as he struggled for air. It was impossible to scream and his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Sucking in a breath, he grasped for purchase in his watery tomb. Eyes open or closed, it made no difference. There was only blackness and the monster looming above him, jaws wide and salivating as it prepared to bite down on his head. Luka pulled at the tube feeding air into his lungs. The thick rubber gloves encasing his hands had reduced his sense of touch. A gargled scream left his lips as water gushed into his mouth. What had he done? Salty water flooded his airways and he gasped for air that would not come.

  A sudden slice of light cut through his disorientation as the doors of his chamber were pulled back. Luka chugged for breath, the whites of his eyes rolling in his mask. A set of strong arms rescued him, and he had never been so relieved to see light.

  Water gushed from the mask as Deborah lifted it from his head, and Luka coughed and choked, inhaling a desperate breath.

  ‘Slow your breathing,’ Deborah said, enveloping him in her arms. ‘It’s OK. Your pipe became disconnected. You’re safe. I have you.’

  On shaky legs, he clambered out of the chamber, salt water stinging his eyes and burning his throat.

  ‘Luka. Speak to me. Are you OK?’ Deborah swivelled her head towards the doctor, who was standing with a clipboard in his hand.

  He frowned at Luka as if he were a lab rat who had failed to find the cheese.

  ‘I hate you!’ Luka screamed in his Russian tongue, knowing the doctor would not understand.

  Deborah pursed her lips, for once failing to translate.

  ‘I hate you and I wish you were dead!’ Luka’s words were delivered in an angry stream, cursing the man he hated with all of his might.

  ‘What’s he saying?’ Dr Curtis snapped. ‘He’s ruined the experiment, he’ll have to go in again.’

  Luka dug his fingers into Deborah’s forearm at the thought of returning to the tank.

  ‘He’s been in there for four hours.’ Deborah glared at the doctor. ‘He’s had enough for one day.’

  ‘I decide when the experiment is complete. I want him back in there now.’

  ‘Nyet, nyet! ’ Luka cried, his body stiff as he tried to clamber away.

  ‘Shhh, it’s OK,’ Deborah soothed. ‘Did you see things? Did they seem real?’

  Eyes wide and unblinking, Luka delivered a sharp nod of the head.

  A timer beeped to signal the test had come to an end. Deborah turned back to the doctor. ‘It’s over. You have your results. The hallucinations are hitting him with full force. The fact that he disconnected his air supply can be updated on our records. We’ve pushed him as far as he can go.’

  But the doctor did not seem convinced. ‘Such a shame. I was hoping a tweak in medication would keep them at bay.’ So that was what the isolation chamber was about. It was the quickest way of finding out if the hallucinations were still there.

  ‘I’ll take him back to his room, get him fed. Extract a full update.’ Deborah gave Dr Curtis a reassuring smile. ‘Besides, Shirley is expecting you home. Aren’t you going to the theatre tonight?’

  ‘Very well,’ he replied, barely giving Luka a second glance.

  ‘I want Mama!’ Luka shivered beneath his towel after Dr Curtis had left.

  ‘Shh, shh, shh, it’s OK, you have me,’ Deborah responded, her words softly spoken. ‘Sweetheart, I’m sorry you were frightened, but I never left your side. We’ll change your medication. I won’t let anything bad happen to you – ever.’

  Luka’s chin wobbled, his eyes glistening with tears. ‘I want to go home. I don’t want to live here anymore.’

  ‘Soon. Just be patient. It’ll all be over soon.’

  ‘Why doesn’t Papa write? I want my papa.’

  Taking a second towel from the radiator, Deborah wrapped it around him, giving his shoulders a squeeze. ‘I’ll tell you what. You keep going with the last of the tests and I’ll speak to your papa. Maybe we could organise a phone call.’

  ‘Really?’ Luka said, clinging to the towels and absorbing their warmth. ‘I can speak to Papa? And Mama too?’

  Deborah nodded, but her features carried concern. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. Your mama . . . she’s not very well. She’s been prescribed medication but . . . well, she shouldn’t be too stressed. So if you have any worries, come to me. Think of me as your second mother. Yes?’

  Luka nodded.

  ‘Now, let’s get you into some warm clothes so you can have a bite to eat. We’ll skip your medication tonight. Nobody needs to know.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Toby wasn’t sure how long the little girl had been there. He had slept facing the wall, feeling her gaze, before he discovered her perched on the end of the bed. Daddy always said he sensed things better than other people, as if he had developed a superhero power to make up for the bodily functions he had lost. This morning he had felt that something wasn’t right. Everything seemed off, somehow. School had been fine up until the time the fire alarm was activated. Toby’s classmates had bumped into his wheelchair, scrambling out of the classroom for a few extra minutes of fresh air. Then the taxi had turned up, along with the driver with the funny hair and a cap that made him look shifty from the off. I mean, who wears a cap when they’re driving? It’s not as if it’s going to rain inside the car. These were the thoughts that had occupied Toby’s mind as he sat in the back of the cab. But Miss Pringle, his teacher, had not seemed worried, and Toby had remembered his father’s words.

  ‘Trust me,’ he’d said that morning when Toby asked to take the bus to school. ‘The taxi is here to keep you safe.’ Toby trusted his daddy more than anyone in the world. But today his daddy had been wrong.

  Shuffling on his elbows, Toby bore the discomfort as he worked his body into a sitting position. He had not wanted to fall asleep, but a long day at school followed by Xbox games and pizza had made his eyelids feel like two lead shutters he could not keep open. As sleep called, he had clung to the hope that his father would be there when he awoke. But instead, a blonde-haired girl with a piece of tissue paper stuck up her nose sat on the bed.

  ‘Who are you?’ Toby said eventually, straightening himself up. He had fallen asleep in his wheelchair but had a vague recollection of someone removing his shoes and lifting him into bed.

  ‘I’m Ellen,’ the little girl said, scooting towards him. There was no suspicion in her gaze, only an intense curiosity, which, given the circumstances, seemed odd. She pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose, the thick glass making her eyes seem as big as moons. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I’m Toby.’ He rubbed his face. How long had he been napping for? He gazed around the room, noting the absence of clocks on the wall. It could not have been any more than an hour or two.

&n
bsp; ‘Have you come to take me home?’ Ellen said, her lips parting as she breathed in through her mouth.

  Toby stared at her, a flash of incredulity on his face. ‘How would I take you home? I’m six! Haven’t you seen my wheelchair?’ He pointed at the chair next to the bed.

  Ellen stared at it, her tongue finding the gap between her teeth as she tilted her head.

  ‘Haven’t you seen a wheelchair before?’ he asked.

  Ellen replied with a shake of the head.

  Toby sighed. ‘I have it ’cos I can’t walk. Not very far, anyway.’ He looked her over. Her grey tracksuit was just like his, except hers was stained with chocolate and some kind of purple drink. ‘Why have you got toilet paper up your nose?’

  ‘Nosebleeds.’ Ellen pulled at the offending plug of tissue, inspected it, then, happy the blood had dried, threw it on the floor. In Toby’s house, throwing rubbish on the ground would earn you a telling-off. But was this Ellen’s house, or had she been brought here too?

  ‘Where are we?’ He lowered his voice, pulling himself to the edge of the bed. ‘Where do you live?’ He badly needed to pee but wanted to know what was going on. Apart from the guy who’d brought him here, he’d had the room to himself. So why was Ellen here now?

  She shrugged in response to both questions, her eyes growing wide. ‘The man brought me here. I don’t like him. I want my mummy.’ She plugged her thumb in her mouth, gave it two sucks and added, ‘I want to go home.’

  Toby wanted to go home too. Back to his daddy and Jodie. What were they doing now? Had they remembered to feed Thor? His hamster had been a birthday present. They weren’t meant to have pets in their block of flats, but Daddy knew the landlord and he said he’d allow it, given it was for Toby. But when Thor had arrived, Toby felt sad because none of the other boys and girls in their block would know how nice it felt to have a pet of their own. Miss Pringle said everybody deserved kindness, not just one or two people. It felt wrong that he was allowed a hamster and they weren’t. And now he was the one feeling like a hamster in a cage.