The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(43)

Molly responded to his quip with a withering look. ‘I can only stretch your measly contributions so far. A fiver a week isn’t much for biscuits and all the brew-ups you can drink.’

‘Yeah, but for the price of a pack of digestives, you could easily get some Jaffa cakes.’

‘Jaffas are biscuits, not cakes,’ Steve piped up, and a long-running argument about the definition of Jaffa cakes reared its head once again.

Amy’s mouth twitched in a smile. They were up to their necks in work but such was the nature of their department. When were they not under monumental pressure or dealing with something with the potential to go horribly wrong? These brief moments of office banter helped them stay sane.

Nursing her cup of coffee, Amy thanked them for coming in early. ‘I thought we could have a quick round robin pre-briefing,’ she said to Paddy. Briefing was not due for another hour, and it was rare for DCI Pike to make an appearance before then. ‘Ma’am Pike’s been a bit off with me lately. I want the team to present a professional front.’

‘Huh,’ Paddy snorted, leaning in so only Amy could hear. ‘You know what they say . . . you can’t make a good impression on wet sand.’

Amy knew there was no love lost between him and Pike, but she was taken aback by the remark. ‘I thought it was just me getting it in the ear these days.’

‘Far from it.’ Paddy checked nobody was listening. ‘I mean, she’s never been great but, lately, she’s lost the plot. We’ve got the HMIC due in next week. They’ll be sniffing around like a dog at a buffet. I hope she gets her act together before then.’

Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of Constabulary independently assessed all police forces, and their reports carried a lot of weight.

‘Until then, there’s always coffee.’ Inhaling its aroma, Amy took a sip. Her skin throbbed as the warmth of the mug transferred to the nerve endings in her fingertips. She had taken off the cumbersome dressings, leaving skin-coloured plasters in their place. DCI Pike had torn a strip off her for being so ‘wreckless’ as to run into the site. But they both knew she would do it all over again if it meant saving Ellen’s life.

The case involving the Curtis family had been named Operation Pegasus, taken from a long list of names generated for officers to choose from. Operation Roadrunner would have been more apt, given how their suspect was giving them the runaround this week.

‘How are we doing, welfare-wise?’ she asked, casting an eye over her officers. They were a small percentage of the number of people working on the case. ‘Managing your workloads? Getting enough sleep?’

Heads nodded in unison. ‘Good. We’ve budgeted for overtime for the rest of the week, so fill your boots. Any problems, see me in my office rather than bringing them up during briefing.’ Again, knowing murmurs and nods of heads. Amy crossed her legs, happy she had got her point across. ‘I’ve spoken to the hospital. Nicole had an operation for the bleed on her brain and it went better than expected. She was lucky we found her in time. Methanol can be deadly when taken in the wrong way.’

‘Methanol . . .’ DC Gary Wilkes spoke up. ‘Isn’t that alcohol?’

‘Trust you to know that, Wilkie,’ Molly jibed. Her smile faded as she recalled the gravity of the case.

Amy carried on. ‘It’s the simplest form of alcohol and it looks like Nicole drank it willingly. There was no evidence of a struggle and no bruising on her body. No fingerprints or DNA we can’t account for and no forced entry into her home.’ She could still see the scene, still hear Dr Curtis’s screams, still taste the dried blood crusted on Nicole’s mouth. The echo of such horrors would remain in her memory for a while to come. But Nicole was a fighter, pulling through for her child. It was imperative that they found Ellen alive.

‘We’ve had the results back from ANPR,’ DC Steve Moss interjected, referring to the automatic number-plate recognition system. ‘Dr Curtis’s alibi checked out. We clocked him driving to his house minutes before you.’

Amy nodded, recalling that the hood of his car had still been warm. But in some cases, minutes were all it took, and the poison could have been administered earlier that day. Just the same, Nicole had been carrying the weathered card from ‘Luka’ on her person with the ‘Ladybird, Ladybird’ rhyme, and Luka’s words about Nicole playing her part had rung true. Test results on the other three phials found at the address proved they were nothing more than coloured water. Had she chosen differently, she would have been OK. Had anyone else received such a package? What about flowers? The yearly card? If they had, they weren’t admitting to it. The letter sent to the London Echo was now police evidence, but one thing bothered Amy as she read the statement covering its seizure. Adam had failed to mention that the same letter had been sent to the newspaper year after year. It seemed Luka had been trying to get their attention for some time.

‘Curtis’s next-door neighbour, Alison Drew, has come forward,’ Steve said, cutting into her thoughts. ‘She saw a motorbike pull up to his house on the morning Nicole was poisoned.’

‘I didn’t see that on the system.’ Amy wondered how she had missed it. There were numerous strands of the investigation, and she needed to keep on top of things as they came in.

‘The statements are still being uploaded.’ Paddy’s gaze was apologetic as he stood beside her, mug of coffee in hand. As team sergeant, he should have let her know of any big developments straight away. Amy’s idea for an early pow-wow had been justified, not least because Pike was waiting for her to slip up.