‘Come in,’ she said flatly, trying to contain the simmering anger bubbling up inside.
It was Paddy, wearing an apologetic grin. ‘We’re doing a chip-shop run, wondered if you’d like anything?’
Amy’s stomach churned at the thought of food. They were no further on with finding Toby, and the CPS had released Dr Curtis without charge.
‘No thanks,’ she said. ‘Is there anything else?’ She sighed as Paddy took a seat. The last thing she needed was company. She knew if he stayed that she would only end up taking her anger out on him.
‘There is, actually.’ He shifted awkwardly in the swivel chair as he unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. It was ten o’clock at night and his tie had been discarded hours ago. ‘There’s been some mumblings in the camp. I wasn’t going to say anything but then I figured you’d want to know.’
Amy’s grey eyes alighted on him in disbelief. Really? she thought, unable to trust herself to utter the words aloud. You’re going to go there now?
‘The team . . .’ Paddy frowned, his discomfort evident. ‘Well, ma’am, the team feel you’re being too easy on the kidnapper.’
‘Do they now?’ Amy said. The fact that Paddy had called her ‘ma’am’ was enough to raise her guard.
‘Mmm,’ Paddy continued. ‘Empathising with him a little too much. I mean, we don’t even know if he’s Luka. He could be anyone.’
‘So while Christina Watson was slashing her wrists, the office gossips were busy picking holes in my running of the investigation. Who put you up to this? Was it Molly? Gary? I hope you put them straight.’
‘It doesn’t matter who it was. The fact is, I agree.’ He rose briefly, fully closing the door before settling back down. ‘It’s bound to affect you . . . all this stuff with Lillian Grimes. It’s easy to see how you could empathise with someone like Luka at a time like this. But this guy . . . he’s playing on your heart strings. Making a fool of you.’
Amy’s jaw clenched as Paddy’s words cut to the bone. The dynamics between them weren’t always as those between a sergeant and a DI should be. As her ex-tutor, sometimes he slipped back into that role. He should respect her decisions instead of doubting them. She wasn’t eighteen anymore. But Paddy continued, oblivious to her darkening mood.
‘It’s the rubber-band effect.’ He checked for understanding, frowning slightly at the scowl on Amy’s face. ‘You and Lillian Grimes . . . as much as you want to move on from your past, you can’t let go. Like a rubber band, you find yourself being dragged back to where you came from. It’s why you sympathise with Luka. He spent his childhood in captivity too.’
‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this.’ Amy rose from her chair. ‘I thought we’d got over my news. Seems I was wrong.’
‘Wait,’ Paddy said, as Amy reached the office door. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you . . .’ But his words trailed behind her as she joined her colleagues.
‘So,’ she said, hands on hips as she stared down her team. ‘You think I’m being too soft, do you? Fraternising with the enemy?’ Inside, a small voice advised her not to be so silly, to take their comments on the chin. But her anger could not be stemmed, and Paddy’s words had made her blood boil. She had not expected to add him to the list of people who had let her down.
A hush descended over the office as keyboards silenced and telephone calls came to an abrupt end.
‘You think you can do a better job than me? Then go ahead, be my guest.’ Amy paced the length of the room, pausing at Molly’s desk, which was littered with glittery pens and coffee-stained paperwork. ‘Those tasks I set you. Why hadn’t you safeguarded Christina Watson in time?’ She turned to Gary. ‘Where were you when I asked you to oversee Nicole to make sure she was OK?’ She stared at Paddy with unconcealed fury as he approached. ‘That’s two women we’ve let down in this investigation. You were meant to oversee the team, make sure everything got done. Christina should have been found in time. Her death is down to us.’
‘Boss,’ Steve piped up, ‘Molly was re-interviewing Dr Curtis and we were focusing on finding the courier. We had no way of knowing the suspect would go after the orderlies too.’
‘Why not?’ Amy snapped. ‘It seems obvious to me. I set those tasks and you all ignored them because you thought you knew best. Now Christina is dead, maybe Ellen too. But that’s OK . . .’ She threw her hands in the air, her voice taking on a manic edge. ‘Because all you’re worried about is working with a Grimes! What’s the problem?’ Amy scanned the room. ‘Scared I’ll turn into a serial killer overnight? Well, I’ll make it real easy for you. Tomorrow morning, I quit. This case and this team. You can speak to Luka. See how far you get.’
Turning on her heel, Amy marched out of the door, but Paddy was close behind.
‘Bloody hell, hold up a minute!’ he shouted after her, his face flushed. But Amy was in no mood to listen. She stood by every word. Her team no longer had her back.
‘Why don’t you come back in, we’ll—’
‘Don’t!’ Amy’s lips formed a thin white line and she raised her palms at him in a gesture to stop. ‘I don’t trust myself around you right now, so back the fuck off!’ It was the first time she had sworn at him. The first time she’d treated him with disrespect. But she had to put some distance between them if there was any coming back from this.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Amy’s footsteps were heavy as she wheeled her bike on the pavement. She would hop on it in a minute, she just needed to catch her breath first. The cool night air played with her hair, and she brushed back the loose strands dancing around her face. Her outburst could cost her dearly. It frightened her how quickly she lost her temper these days. Poppy Grimes, the scared little child she once was, had taken up residence inside her. Now Amy’s insecurities had made her lash out for the first time in her career. An undercurrent of anger still lingered. What were her team feeling now she had walked out? Regret? Relief?
She raised her eyes to the sky. The moon was full, occasionally cloaked by some evil-looking clouds. Did that mean it was going to rain tomorrow? Paddy had texted to offer . . . no, insisted on giving her a lift home, but her sharply worded response had left him in no doubt that she wanted to be alone. Besides, the cycle home would give her time to think. It would offer her the opportunity to untangle some of the thoughts in her head. She paused to straddle her bike.
‘Sleep at night, can ya?’
Venom laced the words, making Amy spin round, ready to assert herself. But her movements stalled as she came face to face with Marian Price. She was the younger sister of sixteen-year-old Barbara Price, who had been murdered by Jack and Lillian Grimes decades ago. Barbara’s brother had thrown the egg outside the station and now Marian had come to say her piece. In seconds, Amy assessed the middle-aged woman’s form. Her black puffa jacket could be hiding weapons, up the sleeves, in the lining or inside the hood. Her jeans were tight but the pockets deep enough to conceal a syringe. As for her ankle boots, they were long enough to house a small blade. Her auburn hair was tied up at the back, thick enough to hide a hairpin. Amy did not get her ideas from James Bond movies – this was real life, and these were just a few of the things she encountered during police searches. Just the same, her temper finally dissipated, her stern expression fading to one of sorrow and regret. ‘I’m sorry . . .’ She hesitated, grasping for the right words. ‘But I’m not the one to blame.’
But the annoyance on Marian’s face told Amy this would be a one-way conversation. ‘You’re sorry? Your parents killed my sister. Did God knows what to her first. And then . . .’ She stabbed the air with her finger, her words trembling with emotion. ‘Then you had the gall to turn up at Mum’s door and act the hero.’ Tears shimmered in her eyes. ‘What kind of sicko are you?’
‘Now hang on a minute,’ Amy replied. ‘I was just a child back then.’
‘So was I,’ Marian continued, her features soured with disgust. ‘But you weren’t a child when you came to update us on the burial sites. It was
n’t that long ago. To think I shook your hand. Thanked you for everything you did. That child they used as bait . . . was it you? Did you see my sister? Remember what they did to her?’
Amy danced around the question. ‘I have nothing but sympathy for your family. It’s why I wanted to help.’
‘You shouldn’t have come to our house. You weren’t welcome there.’
‘I had no choice. Lillian Grimes would only help me on the condition that I told the families in person where their loved ones were buried. She’s the one who’s sick in the head. Surely you remember everything my father did to solve the case? Robert Winter – my real father. I could have told Lillian no. God knows, I felt like walking away. But I had to let those girls rest in peace.’
‘Really? You’re telling me the truth?’
‘Your mum knew my father. She remembered what he did. Do you think he’d raise me to do anything less?’
‘I’ve been waiting hours to see you. The newspaper headlines . . . they’ve been going around and around in my head.’ Slowly, the heat left her words. ‘I shouldn’t have come here. But it was such a shock.’
‘It was for me too,’ Amy replied sadly. ‘I’m still coming to terms with it.’
‘It was bad enough having to bury my sister, but finding out the killer’s daughter had been in our house . . .’
‘I don’t see myself like that. I’d go mad if I did. I’m Amy Winter. I’ll always be a Winter. I hope you can find it in your heart to see things the same way.’
‘My brother . . . Some woman messaged him on Facebook, told him where you’d be. I warned him not to bring those eggs.’
‘He’s upset. We all are. Handling your sister’s case is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I had no choice.’ They walked side by side, Amy’s bike keeping a safe distance between them. They talked about past and present and the pain that would not go away. Her suspicions were confirmed. It was one of Lillian’s online groupies who had set up the heckling incident.
Finally, they parted. Shoulders slumped, Marian returned to her car. Another soul tormented at the hands of Lillian Grimes. What would tomorrow’s headlines bring? The media were still picking the bones of Lillian’s story, and it was a meaty carcass indeed.
Amy was grateful when she got home and discovered her mother had decided on an early night. After quickly checking in on her, she took Dotty for a walk around the block before settling into bed with a cup of Ovaltine. She needed to straighten herself out, and self-medicating with booze was not going to help.
Amy’s bedroom had not changed much over the years. Apart from a new double bed, it was still decorated in the Laura Ashley colours her mother had picked. Amy had never been one for pink. Instead, the decor was soft white and dove grey, the one exception the tiny pink cherry blossoms dotted on the cover of her duvet. Snuggling up against plump cushions, Amy opened her laptop and began to research online. There was no way she could sleep, so she decided she may as well put her time to good use. Typing keywords into the search engine, she started looking up the rubber-band theory Paddy had spoken about.
Stockholm syndrome was also referred to as ‘trauma bonding’ and was defined as the psychological tendency of a captive to bond with their captor. As she read the article she thought of Luka and the things he’d said. The more she spoke to the kidnapper, the more positive she was that Luka Volkov had survived. But what about his possible accomplice? Lillian’s theory was not something she had discussed in great detail with her team. After today’s incident, it was probably just as well. How would they react if they knew she was going to Lillian for advice? The woman who helped her one minute, then organised a brawl outside the police station the next. Something bothered her about their last conversation but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Describing it as an ‘extraordinary phenomenon’, the article spoke about the mystery of a ‘loving abuser’ and the strange and intricate relationships that sometimes formed. Although the victim’s behaviour could come as a surprise to even them, it was believed to be a strategy for survival.
Amy had a light-bulb moment as she read the article. Back then, Lillian had always been a strong character, sometimes ‘saving’ Amy from unbearable situations at home. Putting her to bed when things became ugly, telling her to be quiet for her own good. She had been the head of the household, and when Amy was taken into care the little girl had felt adrift. Then in had stepped Robert Winter, a force for good. He and Flora accepted Amy into their hearts as well as their home. He felt strong, powerful. Which is why Amy took it so badly when he died. Then Lillian wrote from prison and, despite her disgust, Amy had answered the call. Was that why she felt so compelled to visit? Had Lillian become her new bedrock?
She scanned the words, trying to make sense of her life’s twists and turns. Stockholm syndrome was defined by several conditions. Usually the victim experienced a situation perceived as life-threatening and, while living in captivity, had to gain permission for every move they made. A small gesture of kindness from their captor would strengthen the bond between them, even make the victim feel that their captor was saving their life. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, Amy read on.
The syndrome could work both ways, the captor developing powerful feelings for their prisoner. Then there was the victim’s inability to escape – the rebound effect. The article spoke of one kidnap victim who had been raped and abused for eight years. Yet when she was told of her captor’s death, she broke down and cried. Later, she bought his home, spending time in the rooms she had been forced to clean as a child. Unable to leave the past behind, she was compelled to return.
Sighing, Amy closed the laptop. Was this what life had in store for her? For almost five years of her childhood, she had been brought up by Lillian Grimes. She was not allowed to mix with other children, for fear of what she might say. Her daily life was controlled from hour to hour, and the one time she had slipped away into the basement, she was severely traumatised by what she found. Could she ever hope to recover from such an upbringing? Was she psychologically damaged too? Perhaps that was why people like Luka sought her out. Could she use this childhood trauma to put her skills to good use, or would her experiences serve to replace patience with violence, and empathy with suspicion and regret? She shut down the thought. The internet was vast and filled with theories. She would not self-diagnose just yet.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Amy drew back her clothes hangers as she decided what to wear. Since when had she become so uptight about work clothes? And who would have thought that blacks and greys could come in so many different shades? Then there were her shirts – rows of stiff white cotton so starched they could stand up on their own. She needed a power suit if she was to face DCI Pike today. No doubt the team had complained about her outburst last night. Where did this leave her now?
She faltered as her phone vibrated on her bedside table. Donovan had tried ringing her last night but she had rejected the call. But as she picked up her phone, it was Paddy’s name flashing on the screen. He only rang her mobile when there was something wrong.
‘What is it?’ she said, cradling her phone between cheek and shoulder as she grabbed a suit from the rack. Her movements were urgent as she threw it on the bed and chose a pair of leather ankle boots.
‘Don’t cycle to work, I’m coming to pick you up.’
Amy’s stomach tightened. ‘Why?’ Sliding off her dressing gown, she pulled on the black fitted trousers. ‘I thought I made myself clear last night. I’m done with you and the team.’
‘We messed up. You had a wobble. It’s water under the bridge now.’
Secretly, Amy was pleased, but her pride would not allow her to forgive and forget. At least, not until she heard what Paddy had to say. His hesitation filled her with dread. There was more to this than her fallout with the team. ‘What is it?’ she said, swallowing her pride. ‘Have they found Ellen?’
‘No, it’s not about Ellen,’ Paddy said, the tick-tock of his car indic
ator providing a backdrop to his words. ‘Last night Luka spoke to London Talk2Talk radio live on air. He told them all about Toby, span them a big sob story, and then the subject turned to you.’
Zipping up her trousers, Amy shot her right hand through her shirt. ‘You’re kidding. What did he say? I thought he was calling me later?’
‘Oh, he is. If the eyes of the world weren’t upon us before, they’ve got front-row seats now. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. It’s all over the news and on TV.’
Amy groaned. She had been avoiding the news channels since word broke about her connection to Lillian Grimes.
‘I’ll pick you up in my car, explain on the way. If you sit in the back, the journos won’t see you through the tinted windows.’
Amy cast an eye over the clock on the wall. It was 6.25 a.m. If the journalists were gathering now, what was it going to be like later on? It was fortunate she had recently moved in with her mum and they didn’t have her address. ‘Where are you?’
‘Driving to the nick, but I turned around to get you when I saw the media scrum outside. I can be with you in ten minutes?’
Just enough time to tie up her hair and apply a little make-up to disguise the paleness of her cheeks. Amy ended the call, buttoning up her shirt as her thoughts raced ahead. All she wanted was to do her job unhindered, with her team’s full support. Was she asking for too much? Would life ever be the same again?
Sliding into the back of Paddy’s Jag, she felt like a reluctant reality-TV star. She could almost hear the narration providing a backdrop to her car-crash life. Tune in this week to see Amy stumble from one disaster to another. We’ll be discussing last night’s meltdown, then on to her childhood with Lillian Grimes. Such thoughts only served to worsen her mood. ‘Thanks for the lift,’ she said begrudgingly, eyeing Paddy in the mirror as he drove.
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