The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(11)

‘I credited you with more intelligence. Do you really think I’d go through all this just to hand Ellen back?’ He paused as if mentally forming his words. There were no background noises, just the sound of his breathing as he prepared to make his next move. ‘We are all pawns in this game. Ellen’s mother played her part, affording you this call. But now it’s your turn.’

Memories of Lillian Grimes came to the forefront of Amy’s mind. In order to find the bodies buried by her parents, she’d had to jump through hoops. And now, having read of her exploits in the newspaper, was another psychopath toying with her?

‘Why don’t you get to the point and tell me where she is?’ Amy knew she was being optimistic, hoping for such a quick resolution.

‘Because I can’t,’ the caller replied. ‘At least, not yet. I know I’m on loudspeaker. That’s fine, as long as you take the lead. You see, I want your team behind this. I want you to understand why I came back from the dead to put things right.’

Amy pinched the bridge of her nose. Her caller may have thought he was Luka Volkov, but she was pretty sure no resurrection had taken place. ‘How do I know this isn’t a hoax?’

‘Nicole Curtis believed me. It’s thanks to her that I’m calling you now.’

Nicole? Amy thought. What involvement has she had in this? She paused for breath. ‘What do you need? Tell me, we can sort this out.’

‘I hate children,’ the man muttered. ‘Their whiny voices and sticky fingers invading my space.’

‘Then for God’s sake let her go.’ Amy’s voice raised in volume as frustration crept in.

‘Not until the world knows just how sick and twisted Dr Curtis really is. I want headlines. Front page. Every year, I send letters to the papers but they’ve ignored me . . . until now. I’m sure a hotshot detective like you can make them listen when they get my next one. It’s already winging its way to them.’

‘Letters?’ Amy frowned. ‘What letters?’

‘You’ll know soon enough. Give me your mobile number.’

Amy reeled off her number without hesitation. ‘How do we know Ellen’s still alive? I need proof.’ She looked around the room, reading the tension on her colleagues’ faces. The atmosphere felt on a knife edge.

The caller sighed, before speaking in a matter-of-fact way. ‘Her nightdress is blue with a pink ribbon. She has curly blonde hair. We took her glasses when we left because she can’t see without them. I left her slippers behind because they’re lined with rabbit fur. She’s a chatterbox – although her ability to speak has been somewhat limited since I took her into my care. I’ll call tomorrow. Be ready.’

An ominous silence filled the briefing room as the call came to an end. Amy turned to her team. ‘Find out if they’ve had any luck tracing that call.’ Swivelling her head, she spoke to Paddy. ‘Bring the car around. We’re paying another visit to Nicole Curtis. We need to verify what he said about Ellen.’ She turned to Steve. ‘His comment about fur-lined slippers was a bit odd. Find out if there’s been any recent contact between Dr Curtis and animal-rights activists.’

Already on it,’ DC Steve Moss replied, tearing off the sheet of notepaper he had been scribbling on then rushing out of the door.

‘Molly, I want you with me on this tomorrow. Clear your workload for when he makes that return call.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Molly nodded, her eyebrows raised. ‘What did he mean about Ellen’s ability to speak being limited?’

Amy shook her head. She was trying hard not to think about that right now. ‘Hopefully, it just means she’s been gagged.’ She sighed. ‘Or it could mean her tongue is winging its way to her parents right now.’ An old case flashed in her memory in which body parts had been sent through the post. Ransom cases were unpredictable and could go either way. But Ellen’s kidnapper was communicative, and that in itself offered a small but much-needed crumb of hope.





CHAPTER NINE

‘How are we going to play this?’ Paddy tapped the steering wheel as the traffic lights turned red. Wearing his crumpled blue shirt and colourful novelty tie, he was not what you would call a sharp dresser, but behind his sloppy exterior was a man who was wholly dedicated to his team. Amy valued his opinion. She had a lot to thank him for, given that he had taken her under his wing when she first joined the police. Sitting forward in the passenger seat, she contemplated their next move. They had been all set to discuss Luka in the briefing, but now her team were racing to find answers due to the unexpected call.

‘I’ll be having a stern word with Nicole,’ she replied, wishing she’d had the opportunity to speak to her alone before now. DCI Pike was so scared of upsetting the esteemed Dr Curtis and his high-profile circle of friends that she had pooh-poohed the idea of bringing his wife in for questioning. Such favouritism left a bitter taste on Amy’s tongue. Why should such people be treated differently to everyone else?

An update from Control came through the police airwaves in the car, informing her there had been no recent calls to the police from the Curtis family home. ‘Received,’ Paddy replied, activating the buttons on the steering wheel to deliver his response.

Amy turned down the radio as officers updated Control on their own locations and tasks. ‘What do you make of it all?’ she said, bringing her attention back to the phone call. ‘We’ve read the reports. Luka died in that fire. So why would anyone go out of their way to make us think he’s alive?’