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

by Caroline Mitchell

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  ‘I thought it only fair that you hear the news from me.’ DCI Pike looked different today. Her face carried a sense of peace Amy had not seen in a long time. A sad smile crossed Pike’s lips. ‘It’s been a tough year, but I hope we can put it behind us and be friends.’

  Friends? Amy swallowed the acidic response on her tongue. Pike knew how let down Amy had felt when she issued the order that caused Luka to bolt. With the limelight solely on her, Amy had taken the flak. Her actions could have been career-breaking and her job was the one thing that kept her sane. Finding Toby and Ellen in the panic room had been one of the highlights of her time on the force. These were the moments she lived for. But there was more digging to do. Details of the children in the doctor’s care were slowly filtering through. Julian, Martha, Sam, Jamie and Luka would finally have a voice. Amy would not rest until they followed up every lead. Her hunch about the pharmaceutical company had been justified. Dr Curtis had two sets of tests: the legitimate results concerning his usual subjects, and another, secret set for the tattooed children. These results had been sent to pharmaceutical company Novo-Hynes, which had funded Curtis’s studies for years. Stuart was offering his full cooperation, which would hopefully gain him leniency in court. While not directly involved in the children’s deaths, he and Christina had turned a blind eye.

  Luka was conscious, fortunate to have survived his ordeal. Seeing his father again would be a groundbreaking moment, and Amy hoped it would go some way towards putting things right. Not that she would convey any of this to DCI Pike. Amy’s disappointment in her senior officer was expressed without words. She would not share her private thoughts with a person she no longer trusted or even liked.

  ‘I hear you’ve been talking to Steve.’ Pike was referring to DC Moss and the part she had played in getting him demoted. ‘It’s regrettable how things turned out between us, but it’s never too late to put things right.’ She turned her gaze towards the window. Amy shifted in her seat as she took in her expression. Were there tears gathering in her eyes? ‘I’ve taken early retirement,’ Pike continued. ‘Let’s say I was encouraged to do so.’

  As her words sank in, Amy wondered if she had heard right. ‘You’ve quit the police?’

  ‘Yes, and I’ve a good idea who my replacement is. The role needed some fresh blood from an outside force.’

  ‘Oh . . . I see. I’m sorry to hear that.’ But was she? She was glad Pike was facing up to things, including her sexual harassment of Steve Moss. But losing her job . . . the woman lived and breathed the police. It was bound to hit her hard. ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘Between us, I’m going to concentrate on my marriage. We’re relocating to Devon, hoping for a fresh start.’

  Amy imparted a hesitant smile. How her husband had put up with her infidelities this long, she did not know. But there were two sides to every story, and she would not be quick to judge.

  ‘This job’s changed me, and I don’t like who I’ve become.’ Plucking a tissue from a box on her desk, Pike dabbed the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. ‘The official line is I’m retiring because my role as a DCI has been made obsolete. I thought I owed you an explanation.’

  ‘I’m shocked,’ Amy replied. ‘I hope the decision to go wasn’t down to anything I said.’

  Pike sniffled before blurting a humourless laugh. ‘No offence, but you’re not that influential. On a brighter note, the command team are very pleased with you. They want to capitalise on what you bring to your role. Just imagine when the story comes out. Teamed with a new DI, you’ll reach stratospheric levels of success.’

  Thoughts of further publicity made Amy bristle, but she was glad the command team were behind her. Pike was right, a good leader could take them even higher. Be an example to other forces implementing similar teams. ‘So there’s a DI taking over your position? How is that going to work?’

  ‘You’ll share the same rank but he’ll be responsible for overseeing the team. I’m sure you’ll work well together.’

  ‘So it’s a he?’ Amy held her breath. As much as she mistrusted Pike, sometimes it was better the devil you know.

  The clock on the wall ticked a few more seconds before Pike passed on the news. ‘DI Donovan is going to make an excellent addition to the team.’

  ‘Donovan?’ Amy’s mouth fell open as she lost all composure. ‘Not DI Donovan from Essex Police?’

  ‘Yes, he’s been primed for the role. ‘Nice chap, very personable, and he’s got a lot of time for you. He has a daughter living in London and wants to relocate to the Met.’ She rose from her chair and turned to the coffee pot. ‘Would you like some?’ she said, filling a cup.

  ‘No,’ Amy said on autopilot, her head spinning with the news. Donovan was moving to London? Leading her team? This was a joke. It had to be. But then she thought about his visits to the area, how he had happened to be around when she got pelted with eggs. His dinner with Pike. Had he been using Amy to get inside information on the role? No. She was a decent judge of character, and he was too genuine for that. But still . . . How was she meant to work with him every day?

  Pike was too busy singing his praises to notice Amy’s rising panic. ‘He’s got some amazing commendations and is just what this team needs. I’m sure you’ll get on famously.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’ The words tumbled from Amy’s mouth as she acclimatised herself to the news. Donovan must have known he was joining the team, yet he hadn’t breathed a word. But Pike was right. Things were going to change.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  ‘May I say how honoured I am to spend a rare day off with you. How long has it been since you’ve taken one? Ten days? Two weeks?’ The comment came from Sally-Ann, who had guilt-tripped Amy into spending some ‘sisterly time’ together. But the words were delivered with a smile. Sally-Ann was well aware of the challenges that working in the police brought, particularly given she was living with Paddy, Amy’s right-hand man.

  Amy returned her smile. ‘I can think of worse ways to spend my day. Being surrounded by cats and kittens is just the therapy I need.’ As far as Amy was concerned, it had been an excellent idea to visit their local cat shelter. Not that Dotty would have approved, but this visit was to complete Sally-Ann’s family, not hers. As they ambled past the outdoor enclosures with the sun on her face, everything felt well in Amy’s world. But peace was there to be shattered, and as her mobile phone rang, Amy was tempted to ignore the call. ‘It’s Adam,’ she said, plucking the phone from her jeans pocket and eyeing the display.

  ‘Go on, answer it,’ Sally-Ann said. ‘I want to hear what the scumbag has to say for himself.’

  There was a time when Amy could not have shared her personal life even with her sister. But what she had with Adam was over, and she was finally in a place where she could move on. Snatching up the phone, she accepted the call before she could change her mind. ‘Hello, who’s this?’ she said, giving her sister a wink. She would not give Adam the satisfaction of knowing she still had his contact details saved on her phone.

  ‘It’s me, Adam.’ He sounded deflated, dissolving the smile from Amy’s face.

  ‘Have you got a minute?’ he said. ‘Can we talk?’

  ‘I think the time for talking is over . . .’ Amy began to say.

  ‘Please. It’s important.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Amy frowned. She may have washed her hands of him, but she no longer wished him ill. She watched as Sally-Ann bent down at an enclosure and stroked a tabby cat through the wire mesh.

  ‘Look, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I took our break-up badly. I let Lillian get under my skin. I should never have printed that story. That woman . . . she has a way of making you do things . . . she egged me on.’

  Amy’s sympathy began to fade. Even now, Adam could not take responsibility for his deeds.

  ‘The damage is done. It’s too late for apologies.’ She frowned. What did he want her
to say? Surely she had made her feelings clear?

  ‘Anyway . . . I was thinking we could balance it out if you gave your side of the story too.’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ Amy blurted out with a laugh.

  ‘Think about it. Lillian’s had her say, now you can respond. Or we could interview you both together . . . pit her argument against yours.’

  ‘Adam, I need you to warm up your few remaining brain cells and work with me.’ Amy’s voice dripped with sarcasm. She was enjoying having her say. ‘From now on, all I want from you is the silent treatment. I don’t want to hear your bullshit. I don’t want to see your face and I certainly don’t want to receive your calls. You get me?’

  ‘If you’ll just let me explain,’ Adam replied. ‘We could meet up over coffee, discuss it properly.’

  Amy marvelled at his cheek. ‘I’d rather stick my head in the oven than spend another minute with you. Enjoy your playtime with Lillian. I’m never letting you close enough to hurt me again.’ Pressing the power button, she switched off her phone. She glanced at Sally-Ann and saw admiration on her face. ‘I try to be nice,’ Amy said. ‘But my mouth doesn’t always cooperate.’

  ‘Good for you,’ Sally-Ann replied, chuckling under her breath. ‘Look at this little girl.’ She pointed to a skinny grey cat housed in its own enclosure. A handwritten sign tied to the mesh gave her the name of Taz. ‘She’s had a lifetime of cruelty, and she’s only three years old.’

  All thoughts of Adam dissipated as Amy read the sign. The cat was not the prettiest of creatures. A line of shaved fur revealed a shock of stitches running across her back.

  ‘I’m having her.’ Sally-Ann smiled, not in the least put off as the cat shied away from her touch. ‘I’ll win her round.’ A cold breeze enveloped them as a cloud passed over the sun.

  ‘There’s something I wanted to ask you,’ Sally-Ann said, eyeing up a family who were cooing over the kittens. ‘I wasn’t going to bring it up, but seeing as Adam’s killed the mood . . .’

  ‘Is it about Lillian?’ Amy sensed her sister’s concern. Together, they walked away from the enclosure.

  ‘Yeah. Is it true? Is the appeal really going ahead?’

  Amy nodded. ‘It’s gaining momentum. You know what that means, don’t you?’

  Her head bowed, Sally-Ann seemed burdened with the weight of her plight. ‘I’m going to have to give a statement, aren’t I? God, the thought of her knowing I survived makes me sick.’

  As an older sibling, Sally-Ann had suffered at the hands of her cruel parents a lot more than Amy had. Yet she had found the strength to revert to her old name. Amy could never imagine calling herself Poppy again.

  Sally-Ann stared at the gravel drive as they headed back towards reception. ‘How much do you remember about our childhood?’

  ‘Enough. Too much. Although I’m not sure how reliable my memory is. The more I see Lillian, the more I remember, which is why I throw myself into work.’

  ‘It’s just that I . . .’ Sally-Ann took a breath, her palm flat on her chest. Inhaling slowly, she tried to assemble her words. ‘It’s just that I may need your help . . .’ Another deep breath. Her hand circled her chest. It was the beginnings of a panic attack. Amy recognised it instantly. Flora had suffered from them for years.

  Amy touched her arm. ‘It’s OK. Take a deep breath. Focus on my words. In and out . . . nice and steady. You’re safe here. We don’t need to talk about it right now.’

  Breathing through her panic attack, Sally-Ann stood beneath one of the trees bordering the driveway. Gradually, her breath returned to normal. She gave Amy a grateful smile. ‘I’m OK now, thanks.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it? You said you needed my help.’ Amy knew she was going back on her earlier reassurance, but she needed to know what was wrong.

  ‘It’s just stuff from the past. I can’t bear the thought of it all coming out.’

  ‘I’m here for you,’ Amy replied. ‘Whatever it is, I’ve got your back.’ She would never forget how Sally-Ann had hidden her from their drunken father in the basement of the Grimes family home. Had she not acted so selflessly, Amy could have taken the full force of an anger dark enough to kill.

  Sally-Ann stood rooted to the spot beneath the tree.

  Amy recognised her expression. Her gaze was far away, in an unspeakable place.

  Sally-Ann reached out to the bark of the leafless tree, her fingers tracing its grooves as she tried to ground herself. ‘I stood by and allowed my parents to be sent down for my murder. Yes, there were others, but the fact they killed their own daughter made a big impact on their case. Now I’m worried what will happen when I come forward. There’s a very real chance Mum will be freed.’

  Amy was also dreading the excavation of their past. There were secrets buried in her psyche and things that Sally-Ann was still struggling to get to grips with. But Lillian was an abomination. She must never be set free. Sally-Ann’s use of the word ‘Mum’ sickened Amy. Why couldn’t she call them Lillian and Jack? It was a stark reminder that, in some ways, they were worlds apart. She looked away from her sister as she tried to conceal her emotions. ‘We can testify, tell the jury what we’ve seen.’

  Sally-Ann shook her head, her face haunted by shadows of the past. ‘Mum was promiscuous. She slept with lots of people and had a filthy tongue. But I never saw her murder anyone. Dad, yes, but not Mum. She was too clever for that.’

  ‘But I saw her,’ Amy replied. ‘She killed one of the women who got a little too close to Jack.’

  ‘You were so young. Do you think the court will give any credence to your testimony?’ Sally-Ann stepped away from the tree, dry-washing her hands. ‘Thanks to Adam’s story, a lot of people have changed their minds about Mum. She’s being backed by No Choice. They’re helping to fund her appeal.’

  Amy knew about No Choice, an anti-police movement set up to assist victims coerced into crime because they feared for their lives.

  ‘Up until now, the major stumbling block was that Mum allowed her daughter to be killed to save her own neck. When it comes out I’m alive . . .’ Sally-Ann stared glumly into the distance. ‘She’s an evil woman but I can’t lie in court.’

  ‘Then why call her Mum?’ Amy said, unable to contain the question a second longer. ‘You said it yourself: she’s evil. Why don’t you call her Lillian, like me?’

  Sally-Ann sighed, her face grim. ‘Because I’m sick of fighting it. She’s my mum, always will be.’ She turned to face Amy. ‘I’m not as strong as you. I tried pretending I was someone else, but the stress of it was making me ill.’

  ‘Then you must do the right thing.’ Amy followed Sally-Ann’s lead as they took the path. Lillian’s appeal was a blight on the horizon, but there was more to her sister’s behaviour than that. She was hiding something, and the prospect of Lillian being freed was a reality neither of them was ready to face.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Coming to the end of a book always feels like a huge accomplishment, but I haven’t done it alone. I’d like to thank my editors, Jane Snelgrove and Ian Pindar, for their valued insights. It has been a pleasure working with you on this book. Thanks also to Eoin, Laura, Jack, Hatty, Nicole, Shona and the team at Thomas & Mercer. I feel very privileged to work with people who are as passionate about my writing as I am. I’d like to give thanks to Tom Sanderson, whose cover designs leave me in awe.

  I want to thank Madeleine Milburn, Hayley Steed and the wonderful team at the Madeleine Milburn literary agency – a more dedicated bunch of professionals you could not meet.

  A special mention of gratitude to my supportive fellow authors, in particular to Angie Marsons and Mel Sherratt, two truly inspirational (and hilarious) people I feel proud to call my pals. Also, to my ex-colleagues in the police who are still up against it, you are never far from my thoughts. To the organisers of such events as Theakston’s Crime Writing Festival, Bloody Scotland and Killer Women – thanks so much for having me at your events.

  To the wonder
ful bloggers and book clubs on Facebook who read and promote books: THE Book Club, the Crime Book Club, Book Connectors, Crime Fiction Addict and The Book Trail to name a few. To my all-important readers, words are not enough to express my gratitude for your support. I hope you continue to enjoy my offerings. Thanks also to Amy Jane Hinton for assisting with my research into all things Russian.

  Last, but certainly not least, to my family, both in Ireland and the UK, especially my husband, Neil, who encouraged me to take the leap of faith and leave my job to write full-time. Thank you for believing in me. To my children: near or far, you inspire me every day.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A former police detective, Caroline Mitchell now writes full-time.

  She has worked in CID and specialised in roles dealing with vulnerable victims – high-risk victims of domestic abuse and serious sexual offences. The mental strength shown by the victims of these crimes is a constant source of inspiration to her, and Mitchell combines their tenacity with her knowledge of police procedure to create tense psychological thrillers.

  Originally from Ireland, she now lives in a pretty village on the coast of Essex with her husband and three children.

  You can find out more about her at www.caroline-writes.com, or follow her on Twitter (@caroline_writes) or Facebook (www.facebook.com/CMitchellAuthor).